Morocco Day 3

Whereas we were able to troop through Day 1 (and missing basically a night of sleep with the time change), jetlag really set in on Day 2.  Waking up was quite a challenge, but wortth the effort.  Our first stop was the Koutoibia mosque, first constructed in the 11th century.  An earthquake in the 1700s destroyed the original building, but you can still see the old pillars.  We also learned about the symbolism of the stacked orbs on top of each mosque: the bottom, largest represents the earth, the middle one represents the skies, and the top orb the heavens.  Zouhair told us a joke about the ingot on the very top, but it wasn't true. My logical deduction is that it would represent Allah, though.  (Update- on the last day, Idris told me none of it is verified as true, just a story that's told).

Next up was the Bahia Palace.  It was built by a man who was a slave, but eventually became a Pasha.  Bahia means beuatiful, and the palace certainly lives up to the hype, but its name also came from the woman in his harem who gave him his first son to carry on the succession.  During this stop, we learned about the 5 characteristics of Arabic architecture: ceramic tile mosaics, arched ceilings, Arabic script as a decoration due to the prohibition against reproducing the image of another living thing, the color green, and fountains in the courtyards.

The other incredible thing was seeing the gardens at the palace.  While they were lovely to see, it was striking that every plant had a purpose; we saw ginger, dates, figs, bananas, yuca, and I'm sure I've forgotten some other things.  Oranges.  Morocco is strongly based on agriculture, which makes it all the more vital that they get some rain each year (which does happen).

We followed siesta patterns; that is, as the zenith of the day's heat approached, we returned to the hotel for lunch and a much-needed nap.  The afternoon took us into Djemma al-Fna, which has been declared a UNESCO world heritage site, and I completely understand why.  It's this insane walled-in labrynth of stalls, shops, and artisans that you could get lost in, and I am not exaggerating.  I took pictures, but there's no way to replicate for you the serpentine nature of this place's layout.  Our first stop in the maze was a Quoranic school.  While now just a tourist site, it had been in use as a school until 2004.  As women cannot be imams within the Muslim religion, there is no need for them to attend Quoranic schools (they instead go to regular schoools).  Boys begin attending around the age of 6 and live at the school until 15, when they go on to secondary and then university.  To exit the school and continue on the path towards being an imam, the boys must memorize the entire Quoran.  Students also receive lodging based on their hard work, the best students are given the more spacious rooms with windows overlooking the courtyards, which slackers are given basement rooms and possibly no windows, or at least not a good view.  It would be interesting to see what a slacker in this situation looked like; since it's such a long amount of time and a large commitment of family resources to send a boy, it is hard to imagine that the boys who are sent wouldn't work hard out of a sense of duty.

We went on from here to a Berber pharmacy, where we were given a bit of information on many products, mostly involving argon oil, then given the chance to purchase what we like.  I should have looked up argon oil sooner.  Lots of claims were made from prevention of wrinkes and dark circles to greater moisturizing benefits to improved memory, etc.

We wound through more of the maze, seeing incredible craftsman ship: blacksmiths creating intricate wrought iron lanterns and wood carvers using both hands and feet to carve out the perfect pattern.  Eventually we ended up in a large city square, where we saw snake charmers, henna painters, and stands selling everything from goat heads to fresh squeezed OJ.  Michael even had a monkey thrown on his back.

We had a mint tea (ubiquitous in the country) on a rooftop cafe and watched the life happening down below.  Then it was time for a swim, a nap, and dinner.  This time, we went to a traditional Moroccan restaurant, and it did not disappoint.  It was somewhere in the labrynth, and while the ornate door belies a bit of the opulence to be seen , you are not fully prepared for how stunning the huge underground chambers of this place area.  In between delicious salads, tagine, and melons for dessert, we enjoyed two belly dancer performances.  The first was an older woman, respectably clad, performing the traditional Moroccan version.  This involves incredible gyrations ALL WHILE A TIERED TRAY OF BURNING CANDLES IS BALANCED ON HER HEAD.  Wild.  The second dancer performed in the Egyptian style, which is the more scantily clad hip shaking version that most of us picture when belly dancing is the topic.

We then walked into the main square we had seen earlier, and it was a complete transformation.  Hundreds and hundreds of people were gathered onut, eating, drinking, playing music, telling stories, and enjoying each others' company.  What was most impressive were the 10s of restaurants than had not existed during the day, and had been set up for the evening gatherings.

After some time here, we went back to the hotel, and eventually found our way back to the hookah bar again.  There was a nice mix of Brits and Americans, and it made me really look forward to spending the tour with a fun group of people.