I should have known it would be an interesting family holiday when i walked down the front stoop to see sheep blood and flesh running swiftly down the gutter. Oh my, I thought to myself, what a way to end this semester.
For weeks all Moroccans (and Muslims in general) have been preparing for one of the biggest Eid's (holiday) of the year. It is the sheep holiday (Howli is sheep in arabic). EVery year, every family who can slaughters one ram (it cant be castrated because apparently you get sick from castrated meat...hmmm not really sure how accurate that is but i went with it) in honor of the Abraham and Isaac story.
For those of you who dont know this story (wasnt sure this was possible until my own mother informed me she had no idea what i was referring to), Abraham was asked by God to kill his son Isaac to show his faith. Abraham took Isaac up to a hill and was about to sacrifice him when (according to the Koran) Isaac was turned into a sheep or (according to the Bible) God said no, here is a sheep instead.
DUring the last week, there were herds of sheep all over RAbat. THere were even small groups of them in the little strip of grass between lanes on the highway. All of the children get really excited to pick out their sheep and theyall go leaping to the herds to pick their victim. Unfortunately, most of the kids become attached to the sheep in the ensuing days and become very distraught at the death. Many Islamic families go into debt just to buy the all-important sheep. Once they pick out their sheep, they transport it to their houses using any number of methods. Perhaps the funniest was a man on a motorcycle holding a sheep on his lap and driving up the road. I couldnt get my camera out in time to take a picture of this strange spectacle, which was probably the most dissapointing point of my trip.
On the day of the Eid, everyone got up early to watch the Imam of Morocco and the King slaughter their sheep on TV. No one is allowed to slaughter the sheep until the Imam and King have done so. In an interesting show of power the sheep of the King was absolutely the most massive sheep I have ever seen. I kind of felt this was kind of appropriate and very funny. We went to Temara for the event. I thought that everyone would be watching the killing and that it would be this big deal, but it wasnt like taht at all. EVeryone just hungout in the yard or in the kitchen and one by one, with no order in particular i dont think, the brothers went out to kill their alotted sheep. Thus, this year we slaughtered 6 sheep. i watched one slaughtering but that was about it. THe butcher holds the sheep down and then a brother would come over, say a few lines of the Koran and then (with a very sharp knife) take a single swipe at the throat and the sheep promptly dies. THen the butcher strings up the sheep in the mandarin trees and skins them in an incredibly short amount of time. AT one point there were 6 sheep hanging upside down from the tree.
When all the slaughtering is done we ate lots of sheep, including tripe, stomach fat kebabs and ribs. During the day many poorer families who could not afford to sacrifice a lamb come by the house and are served a meal.
All the English speakers spent the restof the evening playing board games next to a roaring fire. Quite a lovely way to end this fantastic semester.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Things I Will Miss About Morocco *WARNING*--These May Or May Not Sarcastic
Well, tonight is my last night in Morocco so i thought I shoudl make a list of everything I will miss about this country--I will try to give explanations of everything that requires explanations. Also these are in no particular order
1. Mouna's tea--not as sweet as regular tea--SO delicious on cold mornings
2. The dark chocolate spread that we use with breakfast and first dinner. Better than Nutella- i swear it
3. Ridiculous Turkish Soap Operas--Specifiically Noor. Every night we watch Turkish soap operas...Noor is the most popular with the laydayz because of Noor's husband. According to Selma--he is the most handsome man in the world (most definitely not true)
4. Walking up very late in the morning across the room from Selma--almost always at the same time.
5. Being asked if I STILL (after four months) know where to get on and off bus 57.
6. Temara--the family house and everything and everyone that goes with it.
7. Cedilla--aunt at Temara who always has food on the stove and whom I adore.
8. Tangerines--best fruit in the world.
9. Tutku Cookies--chocolate filled cookies available at every hanout (convenience huts)
10. Crazy Cab Drivers
11. Having to sit WAY too close to men in grand taxis--note to all--buy th extra seat in the back of the taxi. Totally worth it.
12. Being told, once again, that they smoke marijuana in Chefchouan.
13. Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!--the noise that salesmen say when they are walking down the street
14. Call to prayer
15. Freshly squeezed orange juice
16. all of the different types of olives
17. Argon oil dip that we eat with bread at first dinner. Argan is made from the nuts of the Argan fruit--a tree found in Morocco only I believe.
18. Cafes with only men. It is amazing how comfortable one becomes being surrounded by men who stare at you.
19. 4 Dirham bus rides
20. My Moroccan family
21. Prostitute clubs
22. Janet's French voice--she speaks about an octave higher when she speaks French
23. Bargaining
24. Being asked for my MSN name
25. Being able to say and do whatever I want because everyone is already staring. (this includes many singing in the rain impressions to the absolute horror of Selma.
26. Discussing Selma's boyfriends
27. Shopping with Selma
28. "C'est bonne pour la sante"--Everything in Morocco is good for the health.
29. Being forced to wear slippers--because not wearing slippers causes colds
30. Insisting for Omar that "Yes, I can do that on my own!"
31. Cous cous
32. Communal eating dishes
33. Switching language perameters on computer keyboards in order to type normally
34. The beam on people's faces when i try to use a little Arabic
35. Omar--Everything about him!
36. Saying "bonne chance" to all my fellow runners at the Hilton park
37.My daily busride home on the 57 or 30--my only time alone during the day
38. Cheap food
39. Sober dancing
40. Jesse's mom's laugh
41. The Ammor eye roll--the general reaction to pretty much everything i say
42. Shaking one's index finger side to side and tut-tutting
43. Emma and Xotchitl's Cinderella curfew--some of the girls lived in the dorms and they had to be in by midnight or they would get locked out
44. Emma's hilarious walk: she saunters like no one i have ever seen
45. "Saaiiiiiiiiiiiiida!" --our Arabic teacher
46. Preserved lemons
47. Kefta--meatball tajine with eggs
48. Speghetti bolognaise--always reliable choice in resaurants
49. Kristina's crazy chupacabra scream--a one time event, but forever in my memory
50. Restaurant California
51. Hanout CIEE--the convenience hut that everyone in our program uses
52. "C'est la meilleure qualite"--what every vendor tells you
53. Discussing the difference between "objectif" and "subjectif" for the 8th time in my anthropology class
54. The guy who parks the cars near ESDG--he likes to sing happy birthday in english to us every day
55. Stray cats
56. Chateau Briand--a local cafe, used to be a avant garde cafe...now it is kind of seedy but fun
57. Actually having the time to read as much as i want
58. Playing hearts and rummy to pass time before buses and trains
59. Weird local "guides" who are helpful but kind of annoying
60. La Une Cafe--personal favorite because it plays American oldies in the afternoon
61. Labass? Labass--everyday greeting
62. Hemdollah-thanks be to god.
63. N'shah Allah--god willing.
64. How every town has roads called Mohammed V and Hassan II
65. "It's not possible" Professor Zaki's tagline
66. How Moroccans wear WAY too much winter clothing in 55 degree weather
67. The way people play music from their cell phones for the entire bus to hear
68. Not eating the inside of the bread loaf
69. Complete lack of insulation
70. Bus 57? Est-ce que tu connais la route pour le bus?
71. Multi-colored petite taxis
72. Women wearing headscarves and a baseball caps at the same time
73. Couches in Morocco--they are awesome!! they wrap all the way around the room and they also function as beds
74. The way my little sister Miriam sleeps with her tongue out
75. Men carrying their prayer rugs on their heads when they walk home from Mosque
76. Men in the army holding hands and kissing each other hello and goodbye--nice to see
77. The first time I was asked directions and then asked, "wait, your not Moroccan?"---it was dark, so i dont think they noticed i am really really really white
78. Passing "spooky info" sign on the bus home and wondering...what does this company do?
Thanks so much for spending the semester with me, it has been fun sharing the funny happenings of my semester abroad with all of you
love and peace and happy howlidays (pun intended)
mags
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Chefchouan--Arcata's Real Sister City and Fes--36 Square Kilometers of Medina
Things are winding rapidly to a close here in Morocco, and most of us are trying to get in all the traveling we can before we head back to a world where insulated buildings and fixed price stores await. During the last couple weekends, I traveled to Chefchouan (pronounced Shefshowan), the imperial city of Fes, and the port city of Tangiers.
To get to Chefchouan, Janet, Jesse and I traveled by overcrowded bus through the Rif Mountains and around hairpin corners which took our breath away. Just so we are clear, when i say overcrowded, i mean overcrowded. Absolutely no ventilation, men pressing onto me on all sides (one was sitting against my knees on the floor), and no room to even wiggle my tush out of its perpetually numb state from sitting on the bus. Being that i am mildly claustrophobic, this really didnt sit well with me. I simply turned on my ipod to the most soothing thing i could think of (Dawn Upshaw, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, and Rachmaninoff Vespers were all employed), and pretend that i was anywhere but on that bus. It worked and we arrived in Chefchouan with no hitches.
Chefchouan should really be Arcata's sister city. It is surrounded on all sides by fields of marijuana and the constant offers of hashish were reminiscent of home. Well...and all the traveling Spanish hippies didnt help my homesickness. The more interesting thing about Chefchouan is that the enitre town is painted light blue. It is very picturesque and is nestled right against the stunningly craggy Rif mountains. Chefchouan, aside from being known for hash, is also known for wool. This was a happy coincidence because it was EXTREMELY cold. We spent most of our time wandering through the medina looking for the perfect pair of mittens and hats. Basically we spent a lot of time drinking coffee and chatting with the very friendly locals as well. During the Sunday morning, we went on a small hike up to an abandoned Spanish mosque on the top of a hill overlooking the valley. On our way up, we saw a man with a string of freshly made, hot donuts. We followed our noses to a tiny shop selling only these fresh donuts. We promptly bought a string and continued on the hike. These were the best things i have ever tasted. They werent sweet, but they were still just as tasty. If you havent eaten freshly made donuts on a crisp fall morning, i highly recommend it. As the mosque was abandoned we were able to climb to the top of the minaret and practice our call to prayers (though timidly) on the surrounding valley. We hurried back down to the town to buy more donuts, but the illusive donut maker had already closed for the day. Grabbing all our baggage, we hiked down to the bus station in the nouvelle ville (a hill even more steep than Diamond Drive!) and drove to Tangiers. This time, we were wise enough to buy tickets on the bus that doesnt oversell seats.
After a short detour to the coastal town of Martil (Janet had never seen the Mediterranean sea), we rolled into Tangiers late at night. The next morning we awoke to clear blue skies (a change from the stormy weather weve been having here), and walked around the nouvelle ville and looked at the ocean and Spain across the water. There isnt a whole lot to do in Tangiers, but it is a pretty city with a modern feel and friendly people. We went to a perfumier that has been in business for 500 years! These days, they mainly make exact copies of current perfumes, but it was quite fun anyways. We all left smelling better (or worse in my case--i accidentally asked for the wrong sample number and ended up smelling nauseatingly sweet for the rest of the day) and spent the rest of the day at Cafe Halfa. Cafe Halfa was and still is a popular Beat hangout in TAngiers. It is terraced and looks over the the water. It happened to be Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Allen Ginsburgh, and Mick Jagger's favorite spot to take in the views. Cafe Halfa isnt very touristy as it is very difficult to reach. You must be dropped off at the beginning of the medina (there isnt room for cars) and you must walk through very narrow alleyways towards who-knows-what and then you are usually grabbed by the proprietor who knows you are looking for Cafe Halfa (there really isnt much else going on in that area of the medina). Quite the little adventure. That night, we took the night train back to Rabat and arrived at 4:00 am after watchng the new James Bond in French. I was exhausted!
Last week, we celebrated Thanksgiving. There was a little mix-up on the actual date of Thanksgiving (not thanks to yours truly insisting that thanksgiving is always the 3rd thursday of november.....whoops). We were cooked a marvelous dinner by the staff of our local TGIFridays. Now, i have never been to a TGIFridays in the US but i can tell you, there is nothng that helps homesickness like boneless wings from Fridays! It has been quite the lifesaver for CIEEers. Fridays cooked us turkey, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, green beans, and PUMPKIN PIE! It was a wonderful night for all, and i am extremely grateful that we were able to celebrate my favorite holiday while in Rabat.
The day after Thanksgiving, we went to Fes. That evening, we watched a movie about Moroccan and American students traveling and living together, discussing rather emotional and intense topics (AMerica's role in the middle east, Islam, christianity, judaism, stereotypes etc). We were with a group of Moroccan students and afterwards we discussed the movie with them. It was interesting to watch Moroccan students react to the Moroccans in the movie. In particular, there was one young man in the movie who expressed some very liberal ideas about Islam. Islam is not generally criticized here (mostly because of the image that has been portrayed of Islam by the media, Arab culture, understandably, is extremely touchy when it comes to even the most innocent of questions). When this young man was expressing his non-mainstream Islamic ideas, many Moroccan students were infuriated and one turned around to me and told me that that man issued a fatwa (basically an order of a religious nature, or an opinion that is followed by many--only a few very important religious scholars are allowed to issue these). I replied that, no, actually he was voicing an opinion, not a fatwa, and we argued for about 5 minutes until he agreed that, okay, maybe the man wasnt expecting people to follow his opinion. There is a very fine line here between expressing your opinion and being sacrilegious. We also discussed the role of English and the "inferior" and "superior" languages. Some of the Moroccan students were upset by the fact that everyone was speaking English in the film and not Arabic. They felt that they were being put on a lower pedestal (it was in their country, and therefore their language should be spoken kind of thing). We responded that the American school system is seriously lacking languages, especially Arabic, and that speaking multiple languages (like most Moroccans) was a HUGE advantage, and that in fact, we were extremely jealous of this ability. The discussion was fascinating and gave a real look into the Moroccan classroom (wow--you really have to be on your toes and ready for debate).
The next day we took a run-of-the-mill tour of the Fes Medina (over 36 square kilometers of it), where we saw pottery workshops (Fes is known for its blue and white pottery), the tanneries (the biggest in the world), and the oldest university in the world (founded 859). This year Fes is celebrating its 1200th anniversary so there were big signs all over the place. EVerythng in Fes is way way way overpriced, so shopping wasnt really an option. To be honest, i prefer the Rabat medina, but that is probably because i know my way around. Fes is a gorgeous city, but with no maps for the entire 36 square kilometers of the medina, it s a little intimidating.
Well, three weeks to go! Happy real Thanksgiving!
Love and Peace
Magpie
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Omar Ammor--Father Extrodinaire
I thought i would do a little profile about my host father because i find him infinitely amusing.
Omar used to work at the Royal Library in RAbat, translating ancient arabic texts. He recently retired and now his week goes like this:
7:00 a.m. wake up and shave
7:20 a.m. warm up the car--im not sure if his car is just really old or what, but he usually wiggles the shift thingy for about a minute before he thinks the car can turn on.
7:30 tell maggee that we are going to be late to school (Omar is the only person in morocco not on moroccan time...he must be 10 minutes early at all times, even though everyone else in the country is 30 minutes late very regularly...even professors)
7:30-7:50 ask maggee once again whether or not she knows the way to the bus stop and whether she will call when she gets on the bus. Omar does not seem to think that i am capable of finding the same bus that i have taken every day for the last three months each morning. he says, are you sure? you know where the bus is? what if it rains? do you remember the covered route i showed you to the bus stop? bus 57? youre taking bus 57? the same bus as yesterday? bus 57? will you call? so when you get on bus 57 you willl call me? do you know where to get off the bus 57? class ends at 5? and then you will take bus 57? bus 57? okay, c'est bon. bonne courage. bonne journee.
From 8:00 until 5:00 i am not exactly sure, but on mondays i dont have class until the afternoons and im usually not traveling, so i have a good idea. it consists of watching a lot of sports. handball (which until morocco i didnt know was an actual competitive sport), soccer, tennis, volleyball...pretty much anything that is on one of the sports channels. Then around noon, he goes into the kitchen where mouna (his wife) has left a large amount of food for lunch. he then proceeds to heat all of it up and usually he grills chicken or sausage skewers. AFter lunch he takes all the food back into the kitchen and leaves the cleanup for mouna. Then he gets in the car and (after warming it up of course) goes to Temara to see his family or visit friends. About once a week he goes on a 10 km walk with his sister Cediya (sp?) and on fridays he and his brothers visit the grave of their father.
Of note on fridays, Omar also likes to question maggee about her travel plans. where are you going? Who is going with you? what are you going to see? what train will you be taking? do you have tickets yet? what train will you take to return? oh, a man is going with you? oh good, i have more confidence in you. (then he winks because he knows it pisses me off)
Generally Omar and i are like a real father and daughter. We get in political discussions. we complain, we get in heated arguments. the usual. Omar also likes to pull practical jokes. Especially if i am contentedly reading on the couch. It usually consists of him yelling loudly and then laughing when i jump. it is actually kind of funny when he does it to other people.
Fun Omar Facts:
He is not allowed to play sports with the rest of the family because he is too competitive
He loves to talk loudly at me. Sometimes others mistake it for a yell, but i know that he thinks that if he talks more loudly in slurred french, i will understand better.
He is convinced i am lying to him about having previously tasted some suspect food until he sees me put it in my mouth. until then it is just goute! goute! goute! koul! koul! (just so we are all clear, i taste everything, but sour rotten milk is really not my thing)
He is kind of frightening when he helps me with Arabic (he talks really really loudly when he is explaining ARabic)
he does not understand why i am not jsut using arabic verbs more often (i have been in an Arabic class every morning for 2 hours and i can barely read)
He loves to check in on everyone in the family. Madiha and STeve purposely did not get an appartment near Omar because a cousin warned them that Omar would be checking in with them at least once a day. When questioned about this accusation, omar answered, yes, i will.
He prays, but i am pretty sure he hates every moment of it. he doesnt perform ablutions, and he does it in the living room so he can listen to the sports channel
he love love loves freecell on the computer. I have seen him play it for 2 hours at a time before. granted i am playing solitaire at the same time on my ipod but still.
he has the most amazing eye roll. he uses it on me when i tell him that really, i have no idea where im going this weekend, but im going somewhere. and he uses it a lot with selma, his daughter, for various reasons
he is almost always in a blue tracksuit, or pjs.
this gives a pretty good basica description of my host dad. But to be honest, you kind of have to meet him to believe it.
love and peace.
mags
p.s. i am working very hard on my impression of Omar, so im sure you all willsee it
Omar used to work at the Royal Library in RAbat, translating ancient arabic texts. He recently retired and now his week goes like this:
7:00 a.m. wake up and shave
7:20 a.m. warm up the car--im not sure if his car is just really old or what, but he usually wiggles the shift thingy for about a minute before he thinks the car can turn on.
7:30 tell maggee that we are going to be late to school (Omar is the only person in morocco not on moroccan time...he must be 10 minutes early at all times, even though everyone else in the country is 30 minutes late very regularly...even professors)
7:30-7:50 ask maggee once again whether or not she knows the way to the bus stop and whether she will call when she gets on the bus. Omar does not seem to think that i am capable of finding the same bus that i have taken every day for the last three months each morning. he says, are you sure? you know where the bus is? what if it rains? do you remember the covered route i showed you to the bus stop? bus 57? youre taking bus 57? the same bus as yesterday? bus 57? will you call? so when you get on bus 57 you willl call me? do you know where to get off the bus 57? class ends at 5? and then you will take bus 57? bus 57? okay, c'est bon. bonne courage. bonne journee.
From 8:00 until 5:00 i am not exactly sure, but on mondays i dont have class until the afternoons and im usually not traveling, so i have a good idea. it consists of watching a lot of sports. handball (which until morocco i didnt know was an actual competitive sport), soccer, tennis, volleyball...pretty much anything that is on one of the sports channels. Then around noon, he goes into the kitchen where mouna (his wife) has left a large amount of food for lunch. he then proceeds to heat all of it up and usually he grills chicken or sausage skewers. AFter lunch he takes all the food back into the kitchen and leaves the cleanup for mouna. Then he gets in the car and (after warming it up of course) goes to Temara to see his family or visit friends. About once a week he goes on a 10 km walk with his sister Cediya (sp?) and on fridays he and his brothers visit the grave of their father.
Of note on fridays, Omar also likes to question maggee about her travel plans. where are you going? Who is going with you? what are you going to see? what train will you be taking? do you have tickets yet? what train will you take to return? oh, a man is going with you? oh good, i have more confidence in you. (then he winks because he knows it pisses me off)
Generally Omar and i are like a real father and daughter. We get in political discussions. we complain, we get in heated arguments. the usual. Omar also likes to pull practical jokes. Especially if i am contentedly reading on the couch. It usually consists of him yelling loudly and then laughing when i jump. it is actually kind of funny when he does it to other people.
Fun Omar Facts:
He is not allowed to play sports with the rest of the family because he is too competitive
He loves to talk loudly at me. Sometimes others mistake it for a yell, but i know that he thinks that if he talks more loudly in slurred french, i will understand better.
He is convinced i am lying to him about having previously tasted some suspect food until he sees me put it in my mouth. until then it is just goute! goute! goute! koul! koul! (just so we are all clear, i taste everything, but sour rotten milk is really not my thing)
He is kind of frightening when he helps me with Arabic (he talks really really loudly when he is explaining ARabic)
he does not understand why i am not jsut using arabic verbs more often (i have been in an Arabic class every morning for 2 hours and i can barely read)
He loves to check in on everyone in the family. Madiha and STeve purposely did not get an appartment near Omar because a cousin warned them that Omar would be checking in with them at least once a day. When questioned about this accusation, omar answered, yes, i will.
He prays, but i am pretty sure he hates every moment of it. he doesnt perform ablutions, and he does it in the living room so he can listen to the sports channel
he love love loves freecell on the computer. I have seen him play it for 2 hours at a time before. granted i am playing solitaire at the same time on my ipod but still.
he has the most amazing eye roll. he uses it on me when i tell him that really, i have no idea where im going this weekend, but im going somewhere. and he uses it a lot with selma, his daughter, for various reasons
he is almost always in a blue tracksuit, or pjs.
this gives a pretty good basica description of my host dad. But to be honest, you kind of have to meet him to believe it.
love and peace.
mags
p.s. i am working very hard on my impression of Omar, so im sure you all willsee it
Monday, November 10, 2008
Midnight Chupacabra Attacks--Fall Break 2008
First off, just wanted to tell everyone im sorry it has been so long since my last post. As the semester comes to an end, i am finding that i a) have work b) am traveling as much as possible c) dont have enough hours in the day to complete everything...ie blogs.
Fall break started off with an overnight busride from Meknes to Rissani. We drove all night though the High Atlas mountains around hairpin turns that I literally did not think were possible to make. While other slept peacefully through this treacherous journey, my nausea kept me awake. At the time, i was extremely ill (and thinking of returning to Rabat to seek medical attention of some sort). My ridiculously bad nausea has lasted over 24 hours at this point and i didnt see an end in sight. When we arrived in Rissani at 7:00 a.m. the next morning, we took a harrowing journey via really old, broken grand taxi (you know things are bad when you are sitting in the back seat and you can feel the wind through the cracks in the seat cushion) to Merzouga. The first thing you notice about Merzouga is that there really arent any roads. It is basically a flat desolate place where you can really drive wherever you please. In the background however are 300 foot high sand dunes the color of ground ginger (but more red and less brown). It is quite stunning to say the least. Once in Merzouga, we rested for the day at Chez Francoise. It used to be this giant, gorgeous complex run by Francoise herself (she is known for her excellent cooking), but in 2006, the entire area flooded terribly and everything fell down or was severely damaged, because all the building are made out of mud and straw. As soon as we arrived at Chez Francoise, I retired to my room for the duration of the afternoon. The other girls felt just fine and went out into the dune to make sand angels and write their names in arabic in the sand and things of this nature.
Francoise's Berber workmen took pity on my weakened and miserable condition and applied some Berber medicine to my nausea. I was feeling so ill by this point, i said, what the hell, it cant make it any worse...and it will be a good story to tell. He massaged the meat between my thumb and my index finer and it was very tender and sore and so he layed me down on the couch and proceeded to massage different parts of my body, which are apparently all related in Berber traditions. These included my thumb, elbow, foot and calf. Then he squeezed upwards from my thumb to my elbow and then tied a tournaquit(sp??) around my arm. He then placed the rapidly purpling arm behind my head and put me on my side (the positioning was very important because everytime i tried to move, he sighed and moved me back to the original and very uncomfortable position) with my leg bent backwards. I lay like this for five minutes and then he came vback and removed it and told me i was better. Well, i felt better for about 30 minutes. Whether that was due to the special nausea position or the massive amount of adrenalin coursing through my body as a result of the tournquit, who am i to say. By this point, I had realized that i hadnt had anything ot drink for about 24 hours and so i decided i needed some sprite or olives, or something with electrolytes (i had been chugging water at an advanced pace for about and hour and didnt want to pull a "howard stauffer" in a place where the nearest basic pharmacy was 4o minutes drive away). I told the workman that i needed salt and he agreed. We had very different ideas as to the use as you will see. He layed me down again and proceeded with the thumb and forearm massage and then gave me a large handful of salf to hold. Not exactly what i meant, but whatever. THen he massaged me with vegetable oil and salt. Quite interesting. After that, he put another tourniquit on my arm and left me in the special position for 10 minutes. After this ordeal, he informed me that the djin (demon in arabic) was ouf of my thumb and that my nausea would go away. This time, the cure lasted several hours (mostly due to the 7 up in my opinion). This got me through the three hour camel ride into the desert.
During the evening and sunset, we trekked on camels with Hassan the camel guide. Romantic? yes....for about five minutes. My tush was incredibly sore. Worse than any horse one could possible imagine (it didnt help that i had teh youngest and most uppity...hassan called mine the 4X4 of camels...ha ha ha). The downhill was way worse than the uphill. We trekked to a Berber tent in a small oasis. Then Hassan made us a delicious tajine, but as i was extremely nauseated once again, i didnt partake. I went to sleep for a couple house on Janet's lap while Hassan told us stories about actually living in the desert and raising camels for a living.
That night, we were peacefully sleeping in our cozy Berber tent when a snarling animal ran over our heads and scratched my arm to pieces and nicked my head. Then a giant German Shepherd came gnashing its teeth and barking at the Chupacabra turned cat. For some reason, the moment the cat had run over my head, both Kristina and i turned to each other and shouted, holy shit, chupacabra (for those of you who dont know, a chupacabra is a mythical animal that lives in the southwestern united states and looks like a goat/dog/alien thing and eats cows). Im not sure why we both thought of it, but it was quite funny in the end. We promptly removed ourselves from our tent. It turned out that the Spanish tourists next tend over had brought their dog, who was attacking Mox, the camp cat. REgardless, the chupacabra attack was a highlight of our trek.
The next morning, I woke up feeling very refreshed (having slept 12 hours straight) and was feeling somewhat better. On the way out of the desert, we were caught in an absolutely astounding rainstorm (that would set the tone for the weather on the rest of the trip). We left Merzouga soaked to the bone and set out for Tinerhir.
Once in Tinerhir we discovered, to our dismay, that the Todras gorge was closed due to flooding and that harassment in Tinerhir is definitely the worst. As a result of these two, we stayed in our hotel room and ate at tthe charming hotel restaurant. The food was marvelous and the waiter liked us so much that he came down to our room to pick us up for dinner at 8 pm sharp! (unfortunately due to the amount of harassment one receives in Morocco, we are never really sure whether men are being very kind or very creepy...kind in this instance...though he did ask for our MSN names). Of note is that he changed into a vest and wore a lot of cologne. He gave us free tea and cookies and we talked with an interesting Berber drug dealer who spoke a lot of differnt languages and a really coked out Basque kid who spoke spanish to me because i was the only one who could understand him. Unfortunately, my spanish skills have diminished so though i could understand, I couldnt speack back. Frustrating.
The next day we Grand Taxied it to Ouarzazate. We went to the Kasbah Ait Benhaddou by driving through the gorgeous Anti-Atlas Mountains. The geography and geological aspects of Morocco are incredible. I wish i knew anything about geology so I could figure out why the Atlas mountains look the way they do. Once at Ait Benhaddou (very picturesque mud kasbah on a hillside), we took a donkey a piece, and explored and h iked up to the highest part of the kasbah. Some of the floors were sagging and I kind of felt like i was going to fall through the floor. The top of the Kasbah gave a 360 degree view of the surrounding area. It was like a weird combinations of Mars, the southwest, the badlands, and the prairie.
That same day, we Grand Taxied it to the small, sleepy , saffron town of TAliouine. We stayed at this fantastic little Auberge Souktana. We were greated by this old drunk man who was wearing a blue turban and Bob Marley trackpants. He immediately served us saffron tea. It was dark orange. It smelled and tasted strongly of saffron and warmed us up on the rather chilly day. We were served a delicious lunch with the best potatoes of all time. So good. We hung out at the Auberge with short intermittant walks to the old Galoui Kasbah and to the actual town (Souktana was on the outskirts). We talked a lot with the younger man who lived and worked at the AUberge. That night we celebrated Kristina's birthday with the owners over a bottle of wine and a small cake. We talked about racism in the U.S. and the older man liked to ask us lots of rhetorical questions in very slurred, difficult-to-understand french. The next day, we went on a rather long and winding hike through several valleys back to Auberge Souktana. WE got lost a bunch of times, and wandered through the budding saffron and alfalfa fields (saffron harvest was 10 days after we left...bummer we missed it but oh well). We were helped along by lovely Berber women who didnt speak French, but really helped us anyway. We all laughed a lot and i think we made a good impression on them. AFter three house, we finally made it bakc to the Auberge in time for lunch, more saffron tea and saffron purchasing before moving on to Taroudannt.
Taroudannt is a small, bustling market twon about 1.5 hours outside Agadir. We wandered around a little bit and essentially relaxed in kind of a gross hotel. Janet and i went on a mission to the optomitrist's to find Kristina a contact case. It was fun. We found this "guide" who got us the really cheap hotel and also found us a good place to eat. It was funny because when we got to the restaurant (hours after we left our guide), the waiter told us he had been expecting us. The next day we went to the local tanneries. Kind of gross (due to the large amount of cow urine and pigeon feces used). Kind of neat. WE had tea and the propriater told us that he had seen us at the restaurant the night before. Again, the border between friendly and creeptastic is quite fine.
That afternoon we went to AGadir which was lovely and resort-like by the ocean. There were a lot of Norwegians there. It is very westernized, and i even saw some topless sunbathers (a site quite shocking after my experiences in Morocco)!! We stayed in this amazing hotel with a kitchen and stayed 8 people (the boys met us after their rather uneventful trip south). We went out to the clubs after making dinner and proceeded to lay around on the beach for two days. It was just wonderful after all the traveling. After doing nothing, most of the boys left for RAbat, but Jesse stayed behind with us girls. We went to the silver town Tiznit. Not fun. We got ripped off and conned into a ridiculously priced lunch and the silver was way not as cool as the other towns. We essentially sat around until the bus tooik us back up to Agadir.
After staying overnight in Agadir, we grabbed a bus north to Essouria. We spent another day on the hippy-relaxed beach and wandered through the cedar-wood-smelling Medina. It was lovely but i didnt get enough time there and so i intend to go back. The next day we spent traveling back to Rabat.
All-in-all, a very eventful and very wonderful fall break.
Sorry this is so long
Mags
p.s. Election night was one of the proudest moments of my life! and I am totally happy i stayed up till five am to see the entirety of Obama's speach!
pps really sorry about spelling mistakes. for some reason spell check isnt working and so now you get to see what california spelling standards have created...not a pretty site i know.
Fall break started off with an overnight busride from Meknes to Rissani. We drove all night though the High Atlas mountains around hairpin turns that I literally did not think were possible to make. While other slept peacefully through this treacherous journey, my nausea kept me awake. At the time, i was extremely ill (and thinking of returning to Rabat to seek medical attention of some sort). My ridiculously bad nausea has lasted over 24 hours at this point and i didnt see an end in sight. When we arrived in Rissani at 7:00 a.m. the next morning, we took a harrowing journey via really old, broken grand taxi (you know things are bad when you are sitting in the back seat and you can feel the wind through the cracks in the seat cushion) to Merzouga. The first thing you notice about Merzouga is that there really arent any roads. It is basically a flat desolate place where you can really drive wherever you please. In the background however are 300 foot high sand dunes the color of ground ginger (but more red and less brown). It is quite stunning to say the least. Once in Merzouga, we rested for the day at Chez Francoise. It used to be this giant, gorgeous complex run by Francoise herself (she is known for her excellent cooking), but in 2006, the entire area flooded terribly and everything fell down or was severely damaged, because all the building are made out of mud and straw. As soon as we arrived at Chez Francoise, I retired to my room for the duration of the afternoon. The other girls felt just fine and went out into the dune to make sand angels and write their names in arabic in the sand and things of this nature.
Francoise's Berber workmen took pity on my weakened and miserable condition and applied some Berber medicine to my nausea. I was feeling so ill by this point, i said, what the hell, it cant make it any worse...and it will be a good story to tell. He massaged the meat between my thumb and my index finer and it was very tender and sore and so he layed me down on the couch and proceeded to massage different parts of my body, which are apparently all related in Berber traditions. These included my thumb, elbow, foot and calf. Then he squeezed upwards from my thumb to my elbow and then tied a tournaquit(sp??) around my arm. He then placed the rapidly purpling arm behind my head and put me on my side (the positioning was very important because everytime i tried to move, he sighed and moved me back to the original and very uncomfortable position) with my leg bent backwards. I lay like this for five minutes and then he came vback and removed it and told me i was better. Well, i felt better for about 30 minutes. Whether that was due to the special nausea position or the massive amount of adrenalin coursing through my body as a result of the tournquit, who am i to say. By this point, I had realized that i hadnt had anything ot drink for about 24 hours and so i decided i needed some sprite or olives, or something with electrolytes (i had been chugging water at an advanced pace for about and hour and didnt want to pull a "howard stauffer" in a place where the nearest basic pharmacy was 4o minutes drive away). I told the workman that i needed salt and he agreed. We had very different ideas as to the use as you will see. He layed me down again and proceeded with the thumb and forearm massage and then gave me a large handful of salf to hold. Not exactly what i meant, but whatever. THen he massaged me with vegetable oil and salt. Quite interesting. After that, he put another tourniquit on my arm and left me in the special position for 10 minutes. After this ordeal, he informed me that the djin (demon in arabic) was ouf of my thumb and that my nausea would go away. This time, the cure lasted several hours (mostly due to the 7 up in my opinion). This got me through the three hour camel ride into the desert.
During the evening and sunset, we trekked on camels with Hassan the camel guide. Romantic? yes....for about five minutes. My tush was incredibly sore. Worse than any horse one could possible imagine (it didnt help that i had teh youngest and most uppity...hassan called mine the 4X4 of camels...ha ha ha). The downhill was way worse than the uphill. We trekked to a Berber tent in a small oasis. Then Hassan made us a delicious tajine, but as i was extremely nauseated once again, i didnt partake. I went to sleep for a couple house on Janet's lap while Hassan told us stories about actually living in the desert and raising camels for a living.
That night, we were peacefully sleeping in our cozy Berber tent when a snarling animal ran over our heads and scratched my arm to pieces and nicked my head. Then a giant German Shepherd came gnashing its teeth and barking at the Chupacabra turned cat. For some reason, the moment the cat had run over my head, both Kristina and i turned to each other and shouted, holy shit, chupacabra (for those of you who dont know, a chupacabra is a mythical animal that lives in the southwestern united states and looks like a goat/dog/alien thing and eats cows). Im not sure why we both thought of it, but it was quite funny in the end. We promptly removed ourselves from our tent. It turned out that the Spanish tourists next tend over had brought their dog, who was attacking Mox, the camp cat. REgardless, the chupacabra attack was a highlight of our trek.
The next morning, I woke up feeling very refreshed (having slept 12 hours straight) and was feeling somewhat better. On the way out of the desert, we were caught in an absolutely astounding rainstorm (that would set the tone for the weather on the rest of the trip). We left Merzouga soaked to the bone and set out for Tinerhir.
Once in Tinerhir we discovered, to our dismay, that the Todras gorge was closed due to flooding and that harassment in Tinerhir is definitely the worst. As a result of these two, we stayed in our hotel room and ate at tthe charming hotel restaurant. The food was marvelous and the waiter liked us so much that he came down to our room to pick us up for dinner at 8 pm sharp! (unfortunately due to the amount of harassment one receives in Morocco, we are never really sure whether men are being very kind or very creepy...kind in this instance...though he did ask for our MSN names). Of note is that he changed into a vest and wore a lot of cologne. He gave us free tea and cookies and we talked with an interesting Berber drug dealer who spoke a lot of differnt languages and a really coked out Basque kid who spoke spanish to me because i was the only one who could understand him. Unfortunately, my spanish skills have diminished so though i could understand, I couldnt speack back. Frustrating.
The next day we Grand Taxied it to Ouarzazate. We went to the Kasbah Ait Benhaddou by driving through the gorgeous Anti-Atlas Mountains. The geography and geological aspects of Morocco are incredible. I wish i knew anything about geology so I could figure out why the Atlas mountains look the way they do. Once at Ait Benhaddou (very picturesque mud kasbah on a hillside), we took a donkey a piece, and explored and h iked up to the highest part of the kasbah. Some of the floors were sagging and I kind of felt like i was going to fall through the floor. The top of the Kasbah gave a 360 degree view of the surrounding area. It was like a weird combinations of Mars, the southwest, the badlands, and the prairie.
That same day, we Grand Taxied it to the small, sleepy , saffron town of TAliouine. We stayed at this fantastic little Auberge Souktana. We were greated by this old drunk man who was wearing a blue turban and Bob Marley trackpants. He immediately served us saffron tea. It was dark orange. It smelled and tasted strongly of saffron and warmed us up on the rather chilly day. We were served a delicious lunch with the best potatoes of all time. So good. We hung out at the Auberge with short intermittant walks to the old Galoui Kasbah and to the actual town (Souktana was on the outskirts). We talked a lot with the younger man who lived and worked at the AUberge. That night we celebrated Kristina's birthday with the owners over a bottle of wine and a small cake. We talked about racism in the U.S. and the older man liked to ask us lots of rhetorical questions in very slurred, difficult-to-understand french. The next day, we went on a rather long and winding hike through several valleys back to Auberge Souktana. WE got lost a bunch of times, and wandered through the budding saffron and alfalfa fields (saffron harvest was 10 days after we left...bummer we missed it but oh well). We were helped along by lovely Berber women who didnt speak French, but really helped us anyway. We all laughed a lot and i think we made a good impression on them. AFter three house, we finally made it bakc to the Auberge in time for lunch, more saffron tea and saffron purchasing before moving on to Taroudannt.
Taroudannt is a small, bustling market twon about 1.5 hours outside Agadir. We wandered around a little bit and essentially relaxed in kind of a gross hotel. Janet and i went on a mission to the optomitrist's to find Kristina a contact case. It was fun. We found this "guide" who got us the really cheap hotel and also found us a good place to eat. It was funny because when we got to the restaurant (hours after we left our guide), the waiter told us he had been expecting us. The next day we went to the local tanneries. Kind of gross (due to the large amount of cow urine and pigeon feces used). Kind of neat. WE had tea and the propriater told us that he had seen us at the restaurant the night before. Again, the border between friendly and creeptastic is quite fine.
That afternoon we went to AGadir which was lovely and resort-like by the ocean. There were a lot of Norwegians there. It is very westernized, and i even saw some topless sunbathers (a site quite shocking after my experiences in Morocco)!! We stayed in this amazing hotel with a kitchen and stayed 8 people (the boys met us after their rather uneventful trip south). We went out to the clubs after making dinner and proceeded to lay around on the beach for two days. It was just wonderful after all the traveling. After doing nothing, most of the boys left for RAbat, but Jesse stayed behind with us girls. We went to the silver town Tiznit. Not fun. We got ripped off and conned into a ridiculously priced lunch and the silver was way not as cool as the other towns. We essentially sat around until the bus tooik us back up to Agadir.
After staying overnight in Agadir, we grabbed a bus north to Essouria. We spent another day on the hippy-relaxed beach and wandered through the cedar-wood-smelling Medina. It was lovely but i didnt get enough time there and so i intend to go back. The next day we spent traveling back to Rabat.
All-in-all, a very eventful and very wonderful fall break.
Sorry this is so long
Mags
p.s. Election night was one of the proudest moments of my life! and I am totally happy i stayed up till five am to see the entirety of Obama's speach!
pps really sorry about spelling mistakes. for some reason spell check isnt working and so now you get to see what california spelling standards have created...not a pretty site i know.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Marrakech--Land of Souks and Prostitutes
Last weekend, all of the CIEE students went on a large bus to Marrakech. Marrakech is beehive of touristy activity, but nonetheless, very entertaining. Because most of its walls were created from the pink sandstone of the atlas mountains, Marrakech gives of a deep pink glow during the day. The Medina is absolutely huge. Getting lost is not only a must, but inevitable. Turn to your left and there is an entire quartier of iron smiths; turn to your right, and you are confronted with rows and rows of silk thread used to make the gorgeous tekshetas and caftans that vendors attempt to sell to you for outrageous prices. When in Marrakech, you need to come armed with a hearty appetite for bargaining and sense of humor. The vendors are quite funny and charming...until they ask you to send them a picture of yourself on MSN messenger (a chat service that appears to function as the main communication line between members of the opposite sex here in Morocco). After wandering through the souks, you emerge on a large square that is filled with "blue people" (berbers from the south region who tend to wear periwinkle blue garments) selling various remedies for all types of ailments. Whether anyone (including the vendors themselves) takes these remedies seriously is anyone's guess. It seems more of a tourist trap than a legitimate pharmacy.
The first day we arrived, we took a tour of several important old buildings in Marrakech. The first of which was the katoubia mosque (named for the street of booksellers behind the mosque--kitEHb is the word for book in derija). Built in the 11th century, the Katoubia mosque holds 20000 worshippers and has three balls on the top of its minaret that were donated by royal princess during the 13th century. Now brass, the three balls used to be solid gold. The second building we visited was the palace of Bahria, named for the fourth wife of a wealthy vizier in Marrakech. In traditional Islam, one can only take four wives, so while the first wife holds all the power, the most beloved is the fourth. It was grandiose, but certain portions (like the harem) have fallen into disrepair. Many historical sites in Morocco are in similar condition because of the lack of government funding (not because the goverment is not giving money but because of the sheer amount of historical sites). Regardless of how much money is given, each room needs a team of skilled craftsmen to repair the intricate tile designs and carved cedar ceilings, and so the money drains very quickly. Within the palace, there is an arboretum of rare international trees, the most interesting of which is poisonous, and therefore had been used several times to kill of various members of the vizier's family. After wandering through the groves of lemon and fig trees we moved on to the Medina Madersa (school). It was built in the 13th century and was used as an Islamic studies school until 1975. It housed about 800 students in tiny (i am talking 5 feet by 6 feet or smaller) rooms surrounding a main courtyard. In each of these dorm rooms, up to four to five people slept and studied. I felt claustrophobic just thinking about it. All of the students were fed by local Medina families as a charity, and students sometimes remained there for as many as 11 years studying and memorizing and learning the proper way to sing the Koran.
After leaving these hallowed halls of learning, we piled into our bus and were carted off to what i would describe as the Moroccan disneyland. Tired performers entertained us while we picked meat off a sliced in half lamb carcass (head included). The meat was a little tough, but really it wasn't half bad. After the rather large, bland meal, we followed our entertainers out to this ring where we watched a horse show involving physical stunts and extremely loud gunshots with about 3000 other tourists. It was not a highlight, although it has caused a good deal of laughs amongst our group.
During the evenings, most of the group went out dancing at our hotel's night club...le diamant noir (black diamond). Hmmm, how to put this delicately...the women in our group were honestly the only non-prostitutes there. I am not kidding. Luckily, since we weren't wearing mesh shirts and skirts so short that even we Americans found them rather scandalous, none of us were bothered by the large population of sleazy men at the club. Since the focus of the club for most of the patrons was not the dancing, CIEE proceeded to take over the dance floor and worked our moves to the likes of "the rainbow song" (techno song played EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME), "ymca", and "Mesmerize" (ashanti, ja rule, for those of you who don't know this classic hit of the early 2000s). It was a great deal of fun had by all. And rather interesting to watch socially. Sexuality is not something you ever ever see in Moroccan society, so watching it full force and in your face was quite the experience.
Overall, Marrakech was marvelous, and provided a jump start to our 10 day semester break. Currently, i am in a small town in the Atlas mountains called Ouarzazate, and only four days into our marvelous break. We have to catch a grand taxi to the Saffron-growing region of the country, so i have to run, but I promise to write again soon. Sneak peak: Maggee falls ill, receives Berber medicinal treatments, rides a camel, and gets caught in a rainstorm...in the Sahara.
A la prochaine!
B'slema
Magpie
The first day we arrived, we took a tour of several important old buildings in Marrakech. The first of which was the katoubia mosque (named for the street of booksellers behind the mosque--kitEHb is the word for book in derija). Built in the 11th century, the Katoubia mosque holds 20000 worshippers and has three balls on the top of its minaret that were donated by royal princess during the 13th century. Now brass, the three balls used to be solid gold. The second building we visited was the palace of Bahria, named for the fourth wife of a wealthy vizier in Marrakech. In traditional Islam, one can only take four wives, so while the first wife holds all the power, the most beloved is the fourth. It was grandiose, but certain portions (like the harem) have fallen into disrepair. Many historical sites in Morocco are in similar condition because of the lack of government funding (not because the goverment is not giving money but because of the sheer amount of historical sites). Regardless of how much money is given, each room needs a team of skilled craftsmen to repair the intricate tile designs and carved cedar ceilings, and so the money drains very quickly. Within the palace, there is an arboretum of rare international trees, the most interesting of which is poisonous, and therefore had been used several times to kill of various members of the vizier's family. After wandering through the groves of lemon and fig trees we moved on to the Medina Madersa (school). It was built in the 13th century and was used as an Islamic studies school until 1975. It housed about 800 students in tiny (i am talking 5 feet by 6 feet or smaller) rooms surrounding a main courtyard. In each of these dorm rooms, up to four to five people slept and studied. I felt claustrophobic just thinking about it. All of the students were fed by local Medina families as a charity, and students sometimes remained there for as many as 11 years studying and memorizing and learning the proper way to sing the Koran.
After leaving these hallowed halls of learning, we piled into our bus and were carted off to what i would describe as the Moroccan disneyland. Tired performers entertained us while we picked meat off a sliced in half lamb carcass (head included). The meat was a little tough, but really it wasn't half bad. After the rather large, bland meal, we followed our entertainers out to this ring where we watched a horse show involving physical stunts and extremely loud gunshots with about 3000 other tourists. It was not a highlight, although it has caused a good deal of laughs amongst our group.
During the evenings, most of the group went out dancing at our hotel's night club...le diamant noir (black diamond). Hmmm, how to put this delicately...the women in our group were honestly the only non-prostitutes there. I am not kidding. Luckily, since we weren't wearing mesh shirts and skirts so short that even we Americans found them rather scandalous, none of us were bothered by the large population of sleazy men at the club. Since the focus of the club for most of the patrons was not the dancing, CIEE proceeded to take over the dance floor and worked our moves to the likes of "the rainbow song" (techno song played EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME), "ymca", and "Mesmerize" (ashanti, ja rule, for those of you who don't know this classic hit of the early 2000s). It was a great deal of fun had by all. And rather interesting to watch socially. Sexuality is not something you ever ever see in Moroccan society, so watching it full force and in your face was quite the experience.
Overall, Marrakech was marvelous, and provided a jump start to our 10 day semester break. Currently, i am in a small town in the Atlas mountains called Ouarzazate, and only four days into our marvelous break. We have to catch a grand taxi to the Saffron-growing region of the country, so i have to run, but I promise to write again soon. Sneak peak: Maggee falls ill, receives Berber medicinal treatments, rides a camel, and gets caught in a rainstorm...in the Sahara.
A la prochaine!
B'slema
Magpie
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Coq Magic and Hassan the Carpet Man
*If you havent read the post below this, read it first and then read this one*
After our big Moroccan fete, my friend Janet and I decided to spend the weekend in the small university town of Meknes. We arrived at around 12:00 pm, and so we decided to walk around to look for lunch, before heading up to the palace of despot Sultan Moulay Ismail and the Medina. Thank God we did, because we found the most amusing restaurant. It was called "Coq Magic"...naturally we had to go there. The owner thought it was hilarious that we couldnt stop laughing for long enough to order our roast chicken. The owner talked to us while we ate our meal and told us that lots of english speakers like to take pictures of the restaurant, but he doesnt understand why. Janet and i looked at each other, but neither of us had the nerve to tell him it was a rather hilarious innuendo.
After having our fill of Coq Magic we grabbed a petit taxi up to the palace and mausoleum of Moulay Ismail. Moulay Ismail has a rather interesting history. He is revered for uniting Morocco in the 18th century, but also frowned upon for massive amount of death inflicted by both his ministers and himself. Indeed, at one point he had about 4000 christian slaves who built walls for him all over Mekness. Moulay Ismail was obsessed with walls, and wanted to build a palace as grand as Versailles. Ironically, in his haste to build the walls, he neglected to use good materials and so most of the walls were crumbling even before the end of his reign. However, his granaries and store rooms are absolutely mindblowing. Advertised as the prison of christian slaves, our guidebook informed us that in actuality the "prison" was most likely a storeroom. However, it was very atmospheric, and all i could think of was the Count of Monte Cristo. Underground were seven hectares of thirty foot vaults, with a skylight twelve inches in diameter at the top of each vault. Janet and I wandered around in the cool dark vaults for about thirty minutes before ascending the steep staircase into the bright yellow courtyards of Meknes.
Wanting to take a break from all the crumbling walls, we headed for the Meknes medina. The Medina of Meknes is painted in alternatively in either a bright warm yellow, or a bright pink. It is quite beautiful and a lot more calm than the Rabat medina. We were wandering around when Janet spotted some Berber jewellry she liked. THe proprietor invited us inside his shop (always a big decision because the pressure to buy something becomes infinitely greater) to learn about Berber carpets. He offered us mint tea and started to explain and display his wares. It was very interesting, and he explained the differences in the make of each carpet and the function of each carpet in the Berber world. His french was very easy to understand, and Janet and i were having a ball! As it turned out, he knew our Anthropology professor, Hassan Rachik, who is a big name in the Berber community. WE continued talking about anything but buying carpets for about an hour until this AMerican man walked in the door. From Colorado, Samer had known Hassan the carpet man for eight years, having befriended him on his first trip to Morocco. Samer told us that he was a really nice guy and that while we should bargain, that he generally sold carpets for a reasonable price. THis was great news because Meknes is known for its cheaper-than-Fes-or-Marrakech carpets. We departed from Hassan promising to return after visiting the Mausoleum. Upon returning to the carpet souk, Hassan took us on a back roads tour of the medina and showed us courtyards covered with cascading grape vines and ancient, gnarled trees, bright pink alleyways so narrow my small backpack brushed either side, and silver demascene workshops where men hunched over copper plates pounding silver thread to create intricate designs. We returned to the shop after our tour and had more tea and cookies and he finally revealed his starting price for my favorite, gorgeous Berber carpet. I informed him that it was way too much and that I had to save my money for the rest of my trip, and that i had to talk to my parents etc etc. We ended the night promising to return with my final price the next day, and we headed out the door.
Janet and I grabbed a petit taxi down to the train station where we met our cousin's mother, with whome we were staying overnight. A nurse at a local hospital, Aziza lives about an hour outside Meknes and walks 2 miles from her house to the grand taxi station and than another 3 miles to her hospital twice a day for work. Needless to say, she is a pretty amazing woman. SHe cooked us dinner, made our beds, and left us breakfast in the morning. It was lovely...although we did have our first experience with a squat toilet. It was confusing, and we had to call another family member to explain what the bucket of water was for (to flush) and whether or not we could use toilet paper (you can).
THe next day we returned to Hassan the carpet man, ater haggling a little more, we brought the price down. Just then, the American returned to say goodbye to Hassan, and asked us how much we were paying for the carpet. I told him, and he said, woah, I have known these guys for eight years and i have never purchased a carpet at a lower price than that. Make sure you thank them! So at the end of the weekend, we ended up with a new Berber folk carpet for my room at KU and a new family friend. Hassan kissed us twice on each cheek (a sign of affection in Morocco) and told us that should we ever return, to make sure to visit, and that he wanted us to have couscous with his family. As Meknes is only two hours away, Janet and I intend to return to visit Hassan within the month for more wonderful conversation and good home cooking!
Well, that is about it for Morocco at the moment. Our group is headed for Marrakech on friday so I will post about that trip soon after returning on monday night! Hope to hear from you all!
Love and peace
Magpie
p.s. forgot to mention that Moulay Ismail had a chariot that he rode that was alternatively pulled by either women from his harem or his court of eunuchs!
After our big Moroccan fete, my friend Janet and I decided to spend the weekend in the small university town of Meknes. We arrived at around 12:00 pm, and so we decided to walk around to look for lunch, before heading up to the palace of despot Sultan Moulay Ismail and the Medina. Thank God we did, because we found the most amusing restaurant. It was called "Coq Magic"...naturally we had to go there. The owner thought it was hilarious that we couldnt stop laughing for long enough to order our roast chicken. The owner talked to us while we ate our meal and told us that lots of english speakers like to take pictures of the restaurant, but he doesnt understand why. Janet and i looked at each other, but neither of us had the nerve to tell him it was a rather hilarious innuendo.
After having our fill of Coq Magic we grabbed a petit taxi up to the palace and mausoleum of Moulay Ismail. Moulay Ismail has a rather interesting history. He is revered for uniting Morocco in the 18th century, but also frowned upon for massive amount of death inflicted by both his ministers and himself. Indeed, at one point he had about 4000 christian slaves who built walls for him all over Mekness. Moulay Ismail was obsessed with walls, and wanted to build a palace as grand as Versailles. Ironically, in his haste to build the walls, he neglected to use good materials and so most of the walls were crumbling even before the end of his reign. However, his granaries and store rooms are absolutely mindblowing. Advertised as the prison of christian slaves, our guidebook informed us that in actuality the "prison" was most likely a storeroom. However, it was very atmospheric, and all i could think of was the Count of Monte Cristo. Underground were seven hectares of thirty foot vaults, with a skylight twelve inches in diameter at the top of each vault. Janet and I wandered around in the cool dark vaults for about thirty minutes before ascending the steep staircase into the bright yellow courtyards of Meknes.
Wanting to take a break from all the crumbling walls, we headed for the Meknes medina. The Medina of Meknes is painted in alternatively in either a bright warm yellow, or a bright pink. It is quite beautiful and a lot more calm than the Rabat medina. We were wandering around when Janet spotted some Berber jewellry she liked. THe proprietor invited us inside his shop (always a big decision because the pressure to buy something becomes infinitely greater) to learn about Berber carpets. He offered us mint tea and started to explain and display his wares. It was very interesting, and he explained the differences in the make of each carpet and the function of each carpet in the Berber world. His french was very easy to understand, and Janet and i were having a ball! As it turned out, he knew our Anthropology professor, Hassan Rachik, who is a big name in the Berber community. WE continued talking about anything but buying carpets for about an hour until this AMerican man walked in the door. From Colorado, Samer had known Hassan the carpet man for eight years, having befriended him on his first trip to Morocco. Samer told us that he was a really nice guy and that while we should bargain, that he generally sold carpets for a reasonable price. THis was great news because Meknes is known for its cheaper-than-Fes-or-Marrakech carpets. We departed from Hassan promising to return after visiting the Mausoleum. Upon returning to the carpet souk, Hassan took us on a back roads tour of the medina and showed us courtyards covered with cascading grape vines and ancient, gnarled trees, bright pink alleyways so narrow my small backpack brushed either side, and silver demascene workshops where men hunched over copper plates pounding silver thread to create intricate designs. We returned to the shop after our tour and had more tea and cookies and he finally revealed his starting price for my favorite, gorgeous Berber carpet. I informed him that it was way too much and that I had to save my money for the rest of my trip, and that i had to talk to my parents etc etc. We ended the night promising to return with my final price the next day, and we headed out the door.
Janet and I grabbed a petit taxi down to the train station where we met our cousin's mother, with whome we were staying overnight. A nurse at a local hospital, Aziza lives about an hour outside Meknes and walks 2 miles from her house to the grand taxi station and than another 3 miles to her hospital twice a day for work. Needless to say, she is a pretty amazing woman. SHe cooked us dinner, made our beds, and left us breakfast in the morning. It was lovely...although we did have our first experience with a squat toilet. It was confusing, and we had to call another family member to explain what the bucket of water was for (to flush) and whether or not we could use toilet paper (you can).
THe next day we returned to Hassan the carpet man, ater haggling a little more, we brought the price down. Just then, the American returned to say goodbye to Hassan, and asked us how much we were paying for the carpet. I told him, and he said, woah, I have known these guys for eight years and i have never purchased a carpet at a lower price than that. Make sure you thank them! So at the end of the weekend, we ended up with a new Berber folk carpet for my room at KU and a new family friend. Hassan kissed us twice on each cheek (a sign of affection in Morocco) and told us that should we ever return, to make sure to visit, and that he wanted us to have couscous with his family. As Meknes is only two hours away, Janet and I intend to return to visit Hassan within the month for more wonderful conversation and good home cooking!
Well, that is about it for Morocco at the moment. Our group is headed for Marrakech on friday so I will post about that trip soon after returning on monday night! Hope to hear from you all!
Love and peace
Magpie
p.s. forgot to mention that Moulay Ismail had a chariot that he rode that was alternatively pulled by either women from his harem or his court of eunuchs!
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