Morocco Day 5

Unfortunately, Michael and I were not feeling great as a result of the previous night's fun, and missed the group's walk to a local kasbah.  While it is a shame to miss things, one kasbah tends to be similar to the next, so there's no need to cry over spilled milk.  Leaving Ouarzazate, our lunchtime destination was actually the village of Idris, our guide.  His family has opened a guest house, and we spent a restorative afternoon there: slow and gradual courses of mint tea, figs, turkey kebabs, salad, lamb tagine, and melons interspersed with walks around the house and rests on outdoor Berber carpets.  It appeared that a storm was brewing (it ven rained for all of one minute), so the air carried the a cool freshness as we laid under the tents and enjoyed the moment.  We even we able hear a traditional song that some of his family members performed.

It's fascinating to think about what Moroccans do with their resources.  They use natural elements (like mud) to construct their houses, use designs like thick walls to evade the heat as much as possible (it was shocking how cool it felt there) and limit the use of electricity to after daylight or when extremely necessary.  Rivers and oases are also maximized for farming potential and to support local populations (and I was surprised by how many of these lush areas we did see interspersed in the rest of the harsher landscape; while we were not in the desert, much of the area through which we traveled was brown and dry).

Being farther south of Marrakech now, we are in Berber territory.  That is to say, while they are Moroccans just like those in the north, their ethnicity, instead of being Arab, is Berber. Berber tribes are spread all over: Morocco, Algeria, Libya, Tunisia, Egypt, Mali, etc.  I need to do some more research on this, but from what Idris as well as several merchants along our route have said, Berbers may have had to struggle as a minority group under the Arabs.  Idris had mentioned that one of the Berber letters (zed, the Berber z) symbolizes a movement for their rights within Morocco.

Another night, another hotel- each more opulent than the last.  It was amzing to me exactly how nice our accomodations have been for this trip.  As we were a bit removed from the town and not able to walk anywhere, we all hung out by the pool playing cards, chatting, and listening to Idris play the guitar.

Morocco Day 4

Today started off with a long drive towards Ouarzazate, which is like a jumping off point for groups headed to the desert.  We spent the morning traversing long, windy roads in the High Atlas mountains, which reach at least 10,000 feet in altitutde.  We stopped for lunch in a small town and enjoyed another version of tagine; this time featuring lentils, kofta (meatballs), and an egg.  This nourishment was in prepapration for climbing up to a famous kasbah, or fortress, which has been featured in movies such as Gladiator and Jewel of the Nile.  We wound through a small village to get there, and saw that many Moroccans in the southern areas are living in similiar conditions to those as their ancestors.  The house are made of mud and straw and we sw the equpiment that allows them to mold huge bricks for home construction.  The walls are so thick that they block out the heat from the sun to some extent and keep it cool for those who live inside.

After enjoying a view from the top of the kasbah, we stopped to see a local artisan at work.  He creates drawings with henna and saffron, then heats the painting over an open flame.  The heat reacts with the dyes and changes their color, adding depth and shading to his work.  I bought the picture he made in front of our group.

I would love to know more about how the people living in small towns like this make a living.  Clearly some tourists stop there, but i would also doubt that enough is purchased to support everyone who sells their wares.  There are clearly farmers, as there was a lush spurt of trees and other plants near a small river, and we are in a region famous for their figs.

We finally arrived at our hotel in Ouarzazate and took a pre-dinner dip in the pool.  This was followed by a night of drinking and dancing at the hotel with some friends from the group.

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.

Morocco Day 2

After a failed excursion to find a lunch spot, Michael and I took a much needed nap, then rejoined our group for a brief info session.  The info session's most important reveal was that our group would have a hilarious guide named Zuhair.  He then took us to a small store (which we keep referring to as a bodega, if that gives you an idea), to get water and snacks.  I also got to practice my Arabic with Zuhair, which was incredibly fun.  That on the heels of a successful Arabic-only exchane to buy water in the Casablanca airport has really revived my desire to continuing to study Arabic.  Maybe after the TESOL courses...

Our first dinner experience in Morocco was a bit disappointing; we ate at the hotel, and as it caters to tourists, much of the food was not native (pastas, fish, turkey, etc).  They did have some nice chopped veggie salads with beets and cukes, plus couscous and tagine. (A note on tagine- it is a style of cooking that involves throwing all the raw ingredients in a conical pot, then leaving it over the fire for several hours- think crockpot minus the need for electricity.  Ingredients are usually meat, veggies, and spices,  and then it's served  with rice or couscous. Michael and I have been looking forward to this since first trying it with Hlavka and Palmer at the Moroccan hookah place in Baltimore.)

Dinner was followed by a hookah excursion, wherin I was able to practice more Arabic.  Right now, Mulslims are observing Ramadan.  During this whole month, they must fast during the day, which includes not drinking any water and abstaining from sexual contact in addition to the no food.  Exceptions are made for kids, pregnant women, older people, and those who are ill.  As makes sense, people try to avoid being out in the heat of the day if possible, and while Michael and I certainly saw people during the day, there was a much greater presence at night.  Everyone is very friendly and receptive to the cobbled together Arabic spoken by me and the French spoken by Sandy, an American girl we've become friends with.

The hookah bar was a fun experience, because we were seated in a spacious room decorated with rugs and sofas, but with trees growing in it and open to the night sky.

While Morocco is a Muslim country, there is a great range in what women wear.  We've seen everything: burka (everything including eyes covered), niqab (slit for the eyes), to chador (big cloth that covers head and upper body, with pants on the bottom), the hijab (scarf covering hair), and then finally no head covering whatsoever.  We have also noticed some Moroccsn women wearing short sleeves or skirts.  As for foreign women, supposedly you can wear whatever, and while there are some in our group who do, the most daring I'll go is a cap sleeve shirt, still with pants or skirt below the knee.

A final note on day one is our cast of characters:

Along with Zouhair, mentioned above, Idris is our other guide. Both wonderful and experienced tour guides. Idris has been bitten by a scorpion twice and lived to tell the tale, so he may be a desert god.

Sandy and Vicky- two American girls who are travel buddies of the same age as Michael and myself.

Jackie, Kristen, and Vinnie- 3 amazing Californians, mid 20s, and super friendly.

Adam and Glenn - two British guys that can drink more than should be humanly possible. They a quite nice (we learned from them over the trip that this genuinely means they are great, whereas a Brit simply saying "nice" may mean anything from indiference to f***off).

There are certainly others on the tour, perhaps 30 in total, but these will be the familiar names over the next few days.

Entry

We have landed in Marrakech and are figuring out plans for the afternoon.  In the meantime, enjoy this picture of our room as if you can read Spanish, below are some thoughts I had on the plane about frustration and our attitude towards it.

Morocco: Primera Leccion

La primera cosa que aprendi Durante este viaje fue algo relacionado con nuestra abilidad de - mejor dicho dificultad con- superar momentos en los que no nos setimos muy comodos.  Etaba casi durmida pero de pronto me desperte porque el hombre sentado a mi izquierda era aplastado a mi lado.  Una palabra sobre este hombre- no era gordo, sino bien....how do you say broad? Digamos que para nada era estrecho.  Bueno...me desperte porque tenerle tan cerca me proporciono con el calor de su cuerpo.  Y por los primeros 5 minutos despues de despertary, la unica cosa que queria era que se moviera.  Hasta que tenia la idea de darle un pinzon- aunque claro que no lo hice.   Por fin, me di cuenta de que me estaba portando como una nina. Tenia que reirme, porque fue tan facil perder el control durante la incomodidad.  Dos lecciones aqui:

-si soy adulta y me frustro hasta la punta de pensar en violencia, como se translada a nuestros estudiantes? Es vital que entendamos su capacidad disminuido (en comparison con la mayoria de adultos) para controlarse, y igualmemte importante que le ayudemos en desarrollarla.  Tambien, necesitamos comprender que si no se portan bien, al fondo hay una incomodidad de una manera u otra, e eso es lo que resolvemos para que el estudiante siga aprendiendo.

-todos nosotros fallamos en algun momento. Hay que tener paciencia con si misma para superar los momentos dificiles.  Pero igualmente necesitamos exigir que tenemos expectacionese altas para nuestra comportamiento, hacia otras pero mtambien en la mente. Porque tener "the habit" de pensar algo negativo muy pronto translada a un camino negativo de vida. Siempre debemos intentar alcanzar el positivo y el mejor que hay adentro de nosotros.

Mientras escribo, todavia puedo sentir la presion de su brazo sobre mi lado.  Planeo en hacer un tipo de meditacion balinesa: me rio por el proposito de reir.  Muy pronto aterrizamos en Morocco, y llevare sonrisa adentro y afuera.