My Moroccan Experience
Pictures are here
Andy and I left for Morocco Friday evening, the 30th of December on a night train. We slept in couchettes, which were actually quite comfortable. We awoke in Hendaye, France and switched onto the Spanish train company in Irun. Here we had our first layover of one hour, and I had my first glass of really good orange juice. The small cafeteria at the train station had its own machine that took whole oranges and juiced them! One train ride later we were in Madrid, where we stayed for the night to celebrate New Year’s eve. We thought ahead and booked a hotel room, which was a really smart idea because almost all of the hotels were booked for the night. The hotel was called Hotel High Tech President Castellana, and it was amazing. There were blue neon lights under the bed, and a photo of a naked woman on the glass in the bathroom. We forgot to reserve a restaurant, so we found a grocery store and made two delicious sandwiches for dinner and followed it with a bottle of wine and some chocolate. All of the workers in public transportation, and many restaurants took the night off to celebrate so we couldn’t count on the metro and finding a restaurant was that much harder.
The following day we awoke at 7am to catch our 8h15 train to Algerciras. Walking to the train station we walked past many people dressed up in suits and black dresses coming home from dance clubs. There were a fair number of middle-aged people out too, which was slightly surprising because I can’t imagine my mom and dad getting dressed up to go out clubbing until 7am on New Year’s eve. I think Spain just knows how to party.
While waiting in line for the ferry from Algerciras to Tangier we met a French woman named Laurence who is living in Morocco. We also met two guys (Dilip and Kevin) from Los Angeles, CA, and a backpacker from Australia named Jenn. We purchased our ferry tickets and waited to board. We recruited another English speaker named Mark, from the Netherlands, while waiting and we had such a good time talking with one another we spent the next few days together. All of us except Laurence who went back to Meknès, while we travelled to Marrakesh. On the ferry we had to get our passport stamped. There were two lines, one for women and one for men. I followed Laurence in the women’s line and she told me to take Andy’s passport to get it validated. Apparently many women get their masculine travel partner’s passports stamped. I went through the line again with Jenn, so we could get the passports of our masculine travel friends stamped too. The woman in front of us had a stack of at least 16 passports, so we didn’t feel too bad with two each. The men's line looked like it would last for an hour, at least. I imagine that some men spend the whole two hour trip standing in line.
When in Tangier we walked past the hoards of taxi cab drivers meeting us at the port to find a taxi driver who would give us a fare less expensive than what was originally offered us to the train station. The train from Tangier to Marrakech was a night train that left around 9pm and moved slowly through the night getting us to Marrakesh around 9am the next day. The couchettes were sold out, as were all of the 2nd class tickets, so we purchased 6 first class tickets and found a dinky restaurant at the train station to eat dinner. The train ride was very entertaining, and at one point we put all of the luggage on the floor of the train car and spread out Mark’s sleeping bag on the luggage rack so Dilip could sleep on it.
Dilip and Kevin had a room reserved at the Riad Njeema Lounge in Marrakesh, so after our taxi cab driver dropped us off a few blocks from the Riad I asked a boy if he knew where it was. He was very helpful and showed us how to get there, winding through the maze of houses that exists in many Moroccan towns. Andy and I stayed at the Riad Njeema Lounge with Dilip and Kevin for the first night. We all went searching for another hotel for Jenn and Mark and found Hotel Essaouira, not very far from the square “Place Jemaa-el-Fna.” Andy and I stayed at this hotel our second night in Marrakech. The Place Jemaa-el-Fna was always busy. There were snake charmers, people with monkeys who tried to get you to “touch the monkey” or take a picture with it for money. Food was easily accessible. Throughout the day there were at least 20 carts of orange juice makers. They took fresh oranges and squeezed them in front of you. The taste was incredible. The unappetizing part was that to wash the glasses they simply rinse them in a bucket of cold water behind the cart. There were also carts of dried figs, nuts, and dates. Tasty? Yes. Flies? Yes, I became good at spotting carts with no flies or fewer flies before purchasing my sticky dates to eat. At night there are about 80 food carts that open serving up snails, sheep heads, tajines, couscous, salads, rice, seafood, lamb and chicken brochettes (I think this is their name.. kind of like a mini shisk ka bob). When we walked through the different stands the stand owners would grab your arm to try to get you to sit down. One stand, took Jenn’s arm and pulled her up behind them to take a picture. The ploy worked and we ate at this stand. The stand across the way was really upset that we didn’t choose them and throughout our meal they actually gave us the middle finger and said, “fuck you” while staring us down. Geez. No wonder they didn’t have many clients.
There is something called a souq in Morocco. There is nothing like it in the US, so it is a bit difficult to compare for easier understanding. The souqs in Marrakech are long, windy, and jammed full with anything and everything. There was a leather souq, a fruit and nut souq, a jewelery souq, a clothing souq, a slipper souq, a carpet souq, a fabric souq, an antique souq, a ceramic souq, etc… They were very entertaining to walk through, but I got tired of everyone asking as you walked by to, “Come, have a look… just look. We have good price. Student price.” Being white in Morocco is a bit difficult because people automatically think you are rich. Even if you are a student or a backpacker who only has 30 Euros for next month’s food, you are thought of as rich. This can be a challenge, because when you do find something you want, you know you are going to get ripped off. Everything in Morocco is bought via bartering. It is the Moroccan way. I became better at it by the end of our trip, but I really appreciated seeing the fixed prices at the grocery store, Monoprix, in France on my return.
We decided to move on to the next town in Morocco, and after some tearful goodbyes Andy and I went to Essaouira, a town on the west coast. We purchased a bus ticket with Supratours. The bus was full of tourists, and was very clean. We arrived in Essaouira and when we got off of the bus we pushed our way through locals with carts offering to push our luggage to our hotel for money. Essaouira is a walled city, and no cars are allowed inside of the walls. Probably because there is no room for them on the narrow roads. Having no vehicles zoom past us while walking added charm to the city. We found a hotel, Hotel Majestic, and dropped our things off before heading out to explore. We walked to the water and saw the sunset over the fishing boats. Dinner was at a stall where fresh caught fish were displayed and after you choose which fish looks good to you, they are weighed and then grilled. Served with some bread and lemon, it was a delicious meal. As we were walking back to our hotel we got sucked into a store, well, really someone asked to see Andy’s sunglasses and after Andy let him look at them he took them into his shop forcing us to go inside. We drank mint tea and spoke for a while in French and English. Then they tried to sell us Berber jewelery, which was quite beautiful, but they started bartering so high that I politely said thank you for the tea and I would like to leave now. I’m glad we left because later on our trip we found the same jewelery for a fraction of the cost.
The following morning, around 6am I got sick with diarrhea. I’m not ashamed to say it, because I think it is a pretty common occurrence for tourists who are not accustomed to the food in Morocco. I’m not sure why it happened, I ate so many different things it is hard to point to one specific food. I have a feeling it might have been because I tried eating a sea urchin, which was not cooked, and later I realized it is a bottom feeder (this fish sucks up crap from the bottom of the ocean and the water was probably polluted). We went to the ocean wall and I hung out there for a few hours after I was sure I couldn’t possibly expel anything more from my body. We had tickets for a bus to Taroudannt early that afternoon, so I took some pink bismuth and hoped for the best. This bus, unlike the bus from Supratours, was dirtier. I found the back seat, dirt and all, quite comfortable and spread myself out to keep my stomach happy.
In Taroudannt we stayed at a hotel for $7 a night. It worked out fine, but when we decided to stay at a nice Riad, Rida Myriam, the next night we were both much happier. There was heat and warm water there, which was a nice change from the hotels with no hot water. I think I was going on day 3 or 4 without a shower when we checked in. (On a side note, I usually washed my hair in the morning with ice cold water to maintain some cleanliness). Taroudannt is known for their silver, so we went in search of a silver ring and gifts for people back home. There were not as many tourists in Taroudannt, which worked out wonderfully for Andy and I because when we purchased things it was easier to bargain with them. I felt like they didn’t start out with an ungodly price like they would have in Marrakech. Andy and I picked out a ring and bracelet, and Andy found some nice looking wood items in a shop. We drank mint tea with the wood shop worker, Mohammed, before starting to barter. That evening we ate dinner at our Riad. I think it was the best Moroccan dinner I had during my stay there. We started with a nice lentil/tomato based soup, followed by filled eggplant and zucchini, with a chicken tajine for the main dish and then sliced oranges with cinnamon for dessert.
The next morning we walked through the medina, I met a really cute little boy who let me take pictures of him without asking me for money afterwards, and then we walked to the taxi/bus station to move to the next town. Here we couldn’t find a collective taxi, one that fits 5 passengers and the driver, so we had to hire a grand taxi (collective taxi) to take us to Ourzazate ourselves. Usually you take the price of one person in a collective taxi and multiply it by 5 to hire out the whole thing. This taxi driver was very friendly and invited us to his house for lunch, as it was on the way. We accepted and met a Peace Corps volunteer, named Meredith, who is staying with him and his family for two months. They served us a really good pasta dish and tajine with little meatballs. The family has a farm, so the meal was accompanied by fresh squeezed orange juice and oranges for dessert. Meredith told us many things that we didn’t know about the culture. For example, the family has three girls and one boy. The little boy is 4 years old and he can have whatever he wants. If he wants a chocolate bar for breakfast, one of the girls is given money and asked to go to the store to fetch him one. Men have a lot of power in their society and I have the feeling this family kept trying to have a baby boy, because without one things wouldn’t be the same. Meredith told us how to eat properly, which is difficult because it means eating with only the right hand, not using silverware (use bread instead to pick up little morsels of food), and not rubbing your fingers in the napkin they give you (the napkin is just for catching crumbs rub fingers in the bread). Also, one shouldn’t lick their fingers until the end of the meal. We also learned holding hands in public is looked on as shameful, and Moroccan women never sit at the cafés, they are reserved for men only. The Moroccan women don’t go out after dark, and always eat at home.
We continued on our way, catching another taxi from Ourzazate to Tinerhir, where we were dropped off in the middle of the Todra Gorge. I was told on the telephone while speaking to someone at the hotel earlier in the day that while they don’t have hot water, they do have room heaters. We were very happy to see a glowing space heater in our room when we arrived. When we woke up in the morning, the electricity wasn’t working and we could see our breath when we exhaled. Turns out they use a generator and turn it on only when a tour bus comes by, or when they promise that they have heaters in the rooms (only for a few hours though…).
We ventured out into the Todra Gorge and started hiking. Two English speaking girls were coming from the other direction so we said “hello” to start a friendly conversation. It turns out that one of the girls goes to UW and we have a mutual good friend in common. It was an experience that reminds you that it really is a small world. They met up with us a few hours later to give us a lift into Tinerhir (the Todra Gorge is about 10 km outside of town). We then took a taxi to Erfoud to purchase a bus ticket to Fès for later in the week. The same taxi driver then drove us an hour and a half more to Merzouga, where we stayed at a hotel called “Chez Julia.” Around this time we learned that there was going to be a religious holiday a few days later, where they sacrifice sheep and then eat them. This put a kink in our travel plans, because the bus tickets I just purchased were useless because the bus company was going to be closed. There is a pretty good story here, but it is a bit confusing to describe. Basically the person who runs the bus company ticket office where I purchased the tickets, remembered after he sold me the tickets that they were going to be closed, so he called his brother in Merzouga to come find us and refund us our money. It was a great example of how important family and friends are to Moroccans.
The next day we took a camel trek into the Erg Chebbi, the area in the desert with the largest sand dunes. We only rode 7 km on the camels, but my legs were pretty sore from straddling the immense animal. We hiked up a sand dune to watch the sunset and then ate a chicken tajine dinner with our guide. He only spoke French (and Arabic, and Spanish) so I did some translating throughout the meal so Andy could understand him and he could be understood by Andy. Fun fact: There is such a thing as camel insurance, for those who run camel tours. We did a short night hike up the sand dunes and then went to bed. We didn’t have sleeping bags, but the camel wool blankets that they provided us kept us pretty warm. The next morning we hiked up the dunes again, ate breakfast and then rode the camels back into Merzouga.
We caught a cab from Merzouga to Rassini, we shared a collective taxi with the same brother that came to refund us our money. He helped us get a taxi from Rassini to Er-Rachidia, almost getting into a fight with a faux guide (someone who tries to help you while making a profit). In Er-Rachidia we caught a private bus going to Azrou (a city one hour away from Fès). In the bottom of the bus, along with a nap sack that we checked were three sheep and one chicken. I found this really humerus, and when stopped you could sometimes hear the sheep bawwing. They must have known that the sheep killing religious holiday, Eid al-Adha, was coming up and were making noise because of it. The bus encountered a snowstorm, with about 5 inches of snow. I think that Morocco doesn’t get snow that often, so people don’t know how to drive in it. Also because the roads were so small, the bus wouldn’t have been able to make it very far. So, our bus, along with a line of vehicles in front and behind us stopped for a few hours waiting for the sun to come out and clear up the snow. Andy spread out on two seats, as did I and we did our best to get some quality sleep. We woke up wondering which city we were in. It was Azrou, and we hurried to get off of the bus. As soon as we got off of the bus we found out there was another bus going to Fès, so we hopped on it before it left. I hurried so much getting off of the first bus that I forgot my wallet. I think it fell out of my pocket while I was sleeping and slid under the seat. Luckily Andy had a copy of my passport and credit and debit cards so I was able to call a number and have them cancelled.
I’m glad I emptied out my wallet before heading to Morocco, but I still lost a cool picture of Andy taken from a 100 year old camera in Cuba, and some cash.
We found a nice Riad, Riad Louna in Fès and took a shower before walking the streets of Fès. We walked in a cemetery and then sat down for lunch at a café. We sat next to a friendly Australian couple named Claire and Brad and we befriended them and spent the next two days together exploring Fès. Many things were closed because of the religious holiday, so we did a walking tour of the city, stepping over pools of blood in the streets, covering our mouths while passing the impromptu barbecues made out of old bed mattresses cooking sheep head, and I tried to avoid watching people squeeze the inside of the intestines out into buckets. They keep the intestines to use as sausage wrapping. They also eat the brain and (I think) the eyes. There were countless sheep skins laying around, sometimes inside out, sometimes right side out. There were also burned horns every so often in rubbish piles. I found it kind of disturbing, but then again, I am not Muslim.
The following day we went to the famous tanneries, covering our noses with fresh mint leaves made the stench bearable. They use pigeon dung, along with a bunch of other things, natural and toxic to dye leather hides. Then we went on a shopping frenzy. This being the last city of our trip, we loaded up our bags with various items such as a carpet, tea pot, tea glasses, coffee beans, scarfs, and even nice ceramic/porcelain bowls and plates. We ate dinner at the restaurant in our Riad and were joined by a gentleman named Rene, who used to work for the UN. He was an interesting fellow and had quite a few stories to tell.
The next day was our last day in Morocco. We woke up and took a petit taxi to the train station, then took a train to Tangier, then a boat to Spain, then a bus to Algerciras, then a series of trains to Paris. We managed to catch an earlier train from Irun to Paris than expected and we got back at midnight Saturday the 14th of January. It was interesting to note that as we left Morocco, everything looked so clean. The train station in Tangier, with it’s dinky restaurant looked spotless. Before I remember thinking it looked like the equivalent of a Denny’s with a dirty inside. Now, after experiencing a bit more of Morocco with the dusty streets and eating street food (vendors selling sandwiches and the like in the streets) this place looked classy. We also had a few hours in Spain where we ate at a cafeteria, not a real cafeteria it was more of a small place that served tapas and beer, but man, the tapas and beer tasted really good. I also remember thinking that they probably use soap to wash the dishes there.
Overall I would give Morocco 3 out of 5 stars. For a developing country it felt safe. After learning more about the culture we realized that there really wasn't much theft. People would leave their produce out in the vegetable souq, covering it with a tarp and some rocks. It is a great way to see Africa, and I would go back again.
Andy and I left for Morocco Friday evening, the 30th of December on a night train. We slept in couchettes, which were actually quite comfortable. We awoke in Hendaye, France and switched onto the Spanish train company in Irun. Here we had our first layover of one hour, and I had my first glass of really good orange juice. The small cafeteria at the train station had its own machine that took whole oranges and juiced them! One train ride later we were in Madrid, where we stayed for the night to celebrate New Year’s eve. We thought ahead and booked a hotel room, which was a really smart idea because almost all of the hotels were booked for the night. The hotel was called Hotel High Tech President Castellana, and it was amazing. There were blue neon lights under the bed, and a photo of a naked woman on the glass in the bathroom. We forgot to reserve a restaurant, so we found a grocery store and made two delicious sandwiches for dinner and followed it with a bottle of wine and some chocolate. All of the workers in public transportation, and many restaurants took the night off to celebrate so we couldn’t count on the metro and finding a restaurant was that much harder.
The following day we awoke at 7am to catch our 8h15 train to Algerciras. Walking to the train station we walked past many people dressed up in suits and black dresses coming home from dance clubs. There were a fair number of middle-aged people out too, which was slightly surprising because I can’t imagine my mom and dad getting dressed up to go out clubbing until 7am on New Year’s eve. I think Spain just knows how to party.
While waiting in line for the ferry from Algerciras to Tangier we met a French woman named Laurence who is living in Morocco. We also met two guys (Dilip and Kevin) from Los Angeles, CA, and a backpacker from Australia named Jenn. We purchased our ferry tickets and waited to board. We recruited another English speaker named Mark, from the Netherlands, while waiting and we had such a good time talking with one another we spent the next few days together. All of us except Laurence who went back to Meknès, while we travelled to Marrakesh. On the ferry we had to get our passport stamped. There were two lines, one for women and one for men. I followed Laurence in the women’s line and she told me to take Andy’s passport to get it validated. Apparently many women get their masculine travel partner’s passports stamped. I went through the line again with Jenn, so we could get the passports of our masculine travel friends stamped too. The woman in front of us had a stack of at least 16 passports, so we didn’t feel too bad with two each. The men's line looked like it would last for an hour, at least. I imagine that some men spend the whole two hour trip standing in line.
When in Tangier we walked past the hoards of taxi cab drivers meeting us at the port to find a taxi driver who would give us a fare less expensive than what was originally offered us to the train station. The train from Tangier to Marrakech was a night train that left around 9pm and moved slowly through the night getting us to Marrakesh around 9am the next day. The couchettes were sold out, as were all of the 2nd class tickets, so we purchased 6 first class tickets and found a dinky restaurant at the train station to eat dinner. The train ride was very entertaining, and at one point we put all of the luggage on the floor of the train car and spread out Mark’s sleeping bag on the luggage rack so Dilip could sleep on it.
Dilip and Kevin had a room reserved at the Riad Njeema Lounge in Marrakesh, so after our taxi cab driver dropped us off a few blocks from the Riad I asked a boy if he knew where it was. He was very helpful and showed us how to get there, winding through the maze of houses that exists in many Moroccan towns. Andy and I stayed at the Riad Njeema Lounge with Dilip and Kevin for the first night. We all went searching for another hotel for Jenn and Mark and found Hotel Essaouira, not very far from the square “Place Jemaa-el-Fna.” Andy and I stayed at this hotel our second night in Marrakech. The Place Jemaa-el-Fna was always busy. There were snake charmers, people with monkeys who tried to get you to “touch the monkey” or take a picture with it for money. Food was easily accessible. Throughout the day there were at least 20 carts of orange juice makers. They took fresh oranges and squeezed them in front of you. The taste was incredible. The unappetizing part was that to wash the glasses they simply rinse them in a bucket of cold water behind the cart. There were also carts of dried figs, nuts, and dates. Tasty? Yes. Flies? Yes, I became good at spotting carts with no flies or fewer flies before purchasing my sticky dates to eat. At night there are about 80 food carts that open serving up snails, sheep heads, tajines, couscous, salads, rice, seafood, lamb and chicken brochettes (I think this is their name.. kind of like a mini shisk ka bob). When we walked through the different stands the stand owners would grab your arm to try to get you to sit down. One stand, took Jenn’s arm and pulled her up behind them to take a picture. The ploy worked and we ate at this stand. The stand across the way was really upset that we didn’t choose them and throughout our meal they actually gave us the middle finger and said, “fuck you” while staring us down. Geez. No wonder they didn’t have many clients.
There is something called a souq in Morocco. There is nothing like it in the US, so it is a bit difficult to compare for easier understanding. The souqs in Marrakech are long, windy, and jammed full with anything and everything. There was a leather souq, a fruit and nut souq, a jewelery souq, a clothing souq, a slipper souq, a carpet souq, a fabric souq, an antique souq, a ceramic souq, etc… They were very entertaining to walk through, but I got tired of everyone asking as you walked by to, “Come, have a look… just look. We have good price. Student price.” Being white in Morocco is a bit difficult because people automatically think you are rich. Even if you are a student or a backpacker who only has 30 Euros for next month’s food, you are thought of as rich. This can be a challenge, because when you do find something you want, you know you are going to get ripped off. Everything in Morocco is bought via bartering. It is the Moroccan way. I became better at it by the end of our trip, but I really appreciated seeing the fixed prices at the grocery store, Monoprix, in France on my return.
We decided to move on to the next town in Morocco, and after some tearful goodbyes Andy and I went to Essaouira, a town on the west coast. We purchased a bus ticket with Supratours. The bus was full of tourists, and was very clean. We arrived in Essaouira and when we got off of the bus we pushed our way through locals with carts offering to push our luggage to our hotel for money. Essaouira is a walled city, and no cars are allowed inside of the walls. Probably because there is no room for them on the narrow roads. Having no vehicles zoom past us while walking added charm to the city. We found a hotel, Hotel Majestic, and dropped our things off before heading out to explore. We walked to the water and saw the sunset over the fishing boats. Dinner was at a stall where fresh caught fish were displayed and after you choose which fish looks good to you, they are weighed and then grilled. Served with some bread and lemon, it was a delicious meal. As we were walking back to our hotel we got sucked into a store, well, really someone asked to see Andy’s sunglasses and after Andy let him look at them he took them into his shop forcing us to go inside. We drank mint tea and spoke for a while in French and English. Then they tried to sell us Berber jewelery, which was quite beautiful, but they started bartering so high that I politely said thank you for the tea and I would like to leave now. I’m glad we left because later on our trip we found the same jewelery for a fraction of the cost.
The following morning, around 6am I got sick with diarrhea. I’m not ashamed to say it, because I think it is a pretty common occurrence for tourists who are not accustomed to the food in Morocco. I’m not sure why it happened, I ate so many different things it is hard to point to one specific food. I have a feeling it might have been because I tried eating a sea urchin, which was not cooked, and later I realized it is a bottom feeder (this fish sucks up crap from the bottom of the ocean and the water was probably polluted). We went to the ocean wall and I hung out there for a few hours after I was sure I couldn’t possibly expel anything more from my body. We had tickets for a bus to Taroudannt early that afternoon, so I took some pink bismuth and hoped for the best. This bus, unlike the bus from Supratours, was dirtier. I found the back seat, dirt and all, quite comfortable and spread myself out to keep my stomach happy.
In Taroudannt we stayed at a hotel for $7 a night. It worked out fine, but when we decided to stay at a nice Riad, Rida Myriam, the next night we were both much happier. There was heat and warm water there, which was a nice change from the hotels with no hot water. I think I was going on day 3 or 4 without a shower when we checked in. (On a side note, I usually washed my hair in the morning with ice cold water to maintain some cleanliness). Taroudannt is known for their silver, so we went in search of a silver ring and gifts for people back home. There were not as many tourists in Taroudannt, which worked out wonderfully for Andy and I because when we purchased things it was easier to bargain with them. I felt like they didn’t start out with an ungodly price like they would have in Marrakech. Andy and I picked out a ring and bracelet, and Andy found some nice looking wood items in a shop. We drank mint tea with the wood shop worker, Mohammed, before starting to barter. That evening we ate dinner at our Riad. I think it was the best Moroccan dinner I had during my stay there. We started with a nice lentil/tomato based soup, followed by filled eggplant and zucchini, with a chicken tajine for the main dish and then sliced oranges with cinnamon for dessert.
The next morning we walked through the medina, I met a really cute little boy who let me take pictures of him without asking me for money afterwards, and then we walked to the taxi/bus station to move to the next town. Here we couldn’t find a collective taxi, one that fits 5 passengers and the driver, so we had to hire a grand taxi (collective taxi) to take us to Ourzazate ourselves. Usually you take the price of one person in a collective taxi and multiply it by 5 to hire out the whole thing. This taxi driver was very friendly and invited us to his house for lunch, as it was on the way. We accepted and met a Peace Corps volunteer, named Meredith, who is staying with him and his family for two months. They served us a really good pasta dish and tajine with little meatballs. The family has a farm, so the meal was accompanied by fresh squeezed orange juice and oranges for dessert. Meredith told us many things that we didn’t know about the culture. For example, the family has three girls and one boy. The little boy is 4 years old and he can have whatever he wants. If he wants a chocolate bar for breakfast, one of the girls is given money and asked to go to the store to fetch him one. Men have a lot of power in their society and I have the feeling this family kept trying to have a baby boy, because without one things wouldn’t be the same. Meredith told us how to eat properly, which is difficult because it means eating with only the right hand, not using silverware (use bread instead to pick up little morsels of food), and not rubbing your fingers in the napkin they give you (the napkin is just for catching crumbs rub fingers in the bread). Also, one shouldn’t lick their fingers until the end of the meal. We also learned holding hands in public is looked on as shameful, and Moroccan women never sit at the cafés, they are reserved for men only. The Moroccan women don’t go out after dark, and always eat at home.
We continued on our way, catching another taxi from Ourzazate to Tinerhir, where we were dropped off in the middle of the Todra Gorge. I was told on the telephone while speaking to someone at the hotel earlier in the day that while they don’t have hot water, they do have room heaters. We were very happy to see a glowing space heater in our room when we arrived. When we woke up in the morning, the electricity wasn’t working and we could see our breath when we exhaled. Turns out they use a generator and turn it on only when a tour bus comes by, or when they promise that they have heaters in the rooms (only for a few hours though…).
We ventured out into the Todra Gorge and started hiking. Two English speaking girls were coming from the other direction so we said “hello” to start a friendly conversation. It turns out that one of the girls goes to UW and we have a mutual good friend in common. It was an experience that reminds you that it really is a small world. They met up with us a few hours later to give us a lift into Tinerhir (the Todra Gorge is about 10 km outside of town). We then took a taxi to Erfoud to purchase a bus ticket to Fès for later in the week. The same taxi driver then drove us an hour and a half more to Merzouga, where we stayed at a hotel called “Chez Julia.” Around this time we learned that there was going to be a religious holiday a few days later, where they sacrifice sheep and then eat them. This put a kink in our travel plans, because the bus tickets I just purchased were useless because the bus company was going to be closed. There is a pretty good story here, but it is a bit confusing to describe. Basically the person who runs the bus company ticket office where I purchased the tickets, remembered after he sold me the tickets that they were going to be closed, so he called his brother in Merzouga to come find us and refund us our money. It was a great example of how important family and friends are to Moroccans.
The next day we took a camel trek into the Erg Chebbi, the area in the desert with the largest sand dunes. We only rode 7 km on the camels, but my legs were pretty sore from straddling the immense animal. We hiked up a sand dune to watch the sunset and then ate a chicken tajine dinner with our guide. He only spoke French (and Arabic, and Spanish) so I did some translating throughout the meal so Andy could understand him and he could be understood by Andy. Fun fact: There is such a thing as camel insurance, for those who run camel tours. We did a short night hike up the sand dunes and then went to bed. We didn’t have sleeping bags, but the camel wool blankets that they provided us kept us pretty warm. The next morning we hiked up the dunes again, ate breakfast and then rode the camels back into Merzouga.
We caught a cab from Merzouga to Rassini, we shared a collective taxi with the same brother that came to refund us our money. He helped us get a taxi from Rassini to Er-Rachidia, almost getting into a fight with a faux guide (someone who tries to help you while making a profit). In Er-Rachidia we caught a private bus going to Azrou (a city one hour away from Fès). In the bottom of the bus, along with a nap sack that we checked were three sheep and one chicken. I found this really humerus, and when stopped you could sometimes hear the sheep bawwing. They must have known that the sheep killing religious holiday, Eid al-Adha, was coming up and were making noise because of it. The bus encountered a snowstorm, with about 5 inches of snow. I think that Morocco doesn’t get snow that often, so people don’t know how to drive in it. Also because the roads were so small, the bus wouldn’t have been able to make it very far. So, our bus, along with a line of vehicles in front and behind us stopped for a few hours waiting for the sun to come out and clear up the snow. Andy spread out on two seats, as did I and we did our best to get some quality sleep. We woke up wondering which city we were in. It was Azrou, and we hurried to get off of the bus. As soon as we got off of the bus we found out there was another bus going to Fès, so we hopped on it before it left. I hurried so much getting off of the first bus that I forgot my wallet. I think it fell out of my pocket while I was sleeping and slid under the seat. Luckily Andy had a copy of my passport and credit and debit cards so I was able to call a number and have them cancelled.
I’m glad I emptied out my wallet before heading to Morocco, but I still lost a cool picture of Andy taken from a 100 year old camera in Cuba, and some cash.
We found a nice Riad, Riad Louna in Fès and took a shower before walking the streets of Fès. We walked in a cemetery and then sat down for lunch at a café. We sat next to a friendly Australian couple named Claire and Brad and we befriended them and spent the next two days together exploring Fès. Many things were closed because of the religious holiday, so we did a walking tour of the city, stepping over pools of blood in the streets, covering our mouths while passing the impromptu barbecues made out of old bed mattresses cooking sheep head, and I tried to avoid watching people squeeze the inside of the intestines out into buckets. They keep the intestines to use as sausage wrapping. They also eat the brain and (I think) the eyes. There were countless sheep skins laying around, sometimes inside out, sometimes right side out. There were also burned horns every so often in rubbish piles. I found it kind of disturbing, but then again, I am not Muslim.
The following day we went to the famous tanneries, covering our noses with fresh mint leaves made the stench bearable. They use pigeon dung, along with a bunch of other things, natural and toxic to dye leather hides. Then we went on a shopping frenzy. This being the last city of our trip, we loaded up our bags with various items such as a carpet, tea pot, tea glasses, coffee beans, scarfs, and even nice ceramic/porcelain bowls and plates. We ate dinner at the restaurant in our Riad and were joined by a gentleman named Rene, who used to work for the UN. He was an interesting fellow and had quite a few stories to tell.
The next day was our last day in Morocco. We woke up and took a petit taxi to the train station, then took a train to Tangier, then a boat to Spain, then a bus to Algerciras, then a series of trains to Paris. We managed to catch an earlier train from Irun to Paris than expected and we got back at midnight Saturday the 14th of January. It was interesting to note that as we left Morocco, everything looked so clean. The train station in Tangier, with it’s dinky restaurant looked spotless. Before I remember thinking it looked like the equivalent of a Denny’s with a dirty inside. Now, after experiencing a bit more of Morocco with the dusty streets and eating street food (vendors selling sandwiches and the like in the streets) this place looked classy. We also had a few hours in Spain where we ate at a cafeteria, not a real cafeteria it was more of a small place that served tapas and beer, but man, the tapas and beer tasted really good. I also remember thinking that they probably use soap to wash the dishes there.
Overall I would give Morocco 3 out of 5 stars. For a developing country it felt safe. After learning more about the culture we realized that there really wasn't much theft. People would leave their produce out in the vegetable souq, covering it with a tarp and some rocks. It is a great way to see Africa, and I would go back again.
posted by Irene at 9:14 AM
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