Morocco, it has been said, is a country of contradictions. That is the best way I can describe this strange, uncomfortable, dirty, beautiful, and somehow altogether welcoming country. I had some great, almost magical times during the five days I've been here. I've also had moments of sheer despair when this country's imbalances and oppression seem to slap me in the face. In the city, it is all greed and dirt, poverty next to excess. In the Berber villages (the Berber are the indigenous people of Morocco) it is all mud, hard work, and simple pleasures, if any at all. Perhaps this long-winded account of my time here will help you better understand this unsettling place.
Day 1: We docked in Casablanca, Morocco at 8am. The port area is DISGUSTING. We're a fifteen minute walk from the exit gates of the port! They have free shuttles for us, but they never come when they say they will, of course, so basically you just walk through a dangerous and confusing African port that smells like sewage because, hey, that's what it is!
But anyway, aside from Semester at Sea's poor choice in berth location, that morning I left immediately for my overnight trip with SAS. We took the Marrakech Express from Casablanca to Marrakech which took about 4 hours. We were in "first class." Then, we had the afternoon to explore the tourist capital of Morocco. It was amazing! Google "Morocco souks" to get an idea of these market places. There were snake charmers, henna artists, beggars, shops that sold bags, shoes, clothes, hookas, orange juice (which apparently is big here?), pottery, jewelry, scarves and so much more. The shop owners are aggressive in a way that I have never known. I was literally grabbed and thrown into stores against my will, forced to look at their products! Not that I'm complaining too much, I left with a TON of stuff, including pink leather flats that everyone in Morocco wears, some presents (!!), some jewelry, oh there was so much I can't even remember right now!
Then we went to this horrid tourist trap called "Chez Ali." It was like the Disneyland of Morocco, only they weren't being forced to smile so they all looked miserable. They looked miserable because they were miserable. Clearly underpaid and possibly forced to work there, they sang and danced in traditional Moroccan styles. They also had a horse show. The horses were clearly being abused and it was literally painful to watch. Returning from Chez Ali, I was at first upset and confused as to why Semester at Sea would send us to this horrible, uneducational, and downright disgusting place. But, as time went on, I started to understand that this horrid mistreatment of the Moroccan culture was, perhaps, part of the overall Moroccan culture. They have to exploit their traditions for tourism. This country is run down and without resources.
We stayed in a lovely hotel in Marrakech that night, which almost made up for the crappy evening at Chez Ali. My roommate for the night and I watched Moroccan music videos on our room tv!
Day 2: Mohammed, our tour guide, woke us up to get started on our hike up the High Atlas Mountains! We were a group of 20, and everyone was really eager to experience the "real" Morocco. We took a bus to a starting point on the mountains and began our hike! We hiked for about 5 hours that first day, passing plains straight out of The Lion King, rocks and sand like no color I've ever seen, and breathing the clean mountain air. Traveling with the 20 in our group was our travel guide as well as the mule-men, who tended to the mules that came with us to carry our baggage! Ah, the smell of mule in the morning... and afternoon... and evening... and all night....
We finally reached our destination, which was a village gite, which is the Moroccan word for "guest house." Children of the village greeted us with unconditional love. It was fantastic and fun and moving and overwhelming. One of the girls, Fatima, was 11 and spoke English, Arabic, French, and the local Berber dialect. She was incredibly sweet and gifted. The kids showed us their school and their village. Then we ate dinner in our gite, followed by music by the men of the village! The little girls were all such good dancers and put us all to shame! Two of the girls wanted to braid my hair, but had trouble with it because it is such a different texture than theirs. They ended up just playing with my hair for about an hour while their mother gave me a henna tattoo! They were the most open and welcoming people I've ever come into contact with, and most of them didn't even speak enough English to allow communication! The hospitality more than made up for the lack of a toilet with a seat, the fact that the electricity went out just as we sat down for dinner and didn't ever get fixed, and the beds... or should I say mats. The "showers" were interesting. They're called "hamans," or steam baths, but they certainly aren't like our steams baths in the US! Let me describe it: the haman is a room with one basin of hot water and one faucet of cold water and on the floor there were several basins. Five people go in at a time and if you want to get rinsed at all, you basically have to bathe each other! Some people were super uncomfortable, but I kept urging everyone, "When in Morocco!" So I, along with 4 other girls, were the first to try out this "shower" and I couldn't have been happier with my bravery! It was so relaxing and in a weird way it sort of released me from any remaining connection to civilization. And, of course, it made me grow really close to the other people in my group! It was an experience to say the least!
I slept pretty well that night, except for my... ahem... rude awakening at 3am and then again at 4am by the call to prayer. It is Ramadan right now, and since 99.9% of Morocco practices Islam, the call to prayer (which, I think, cites verses from the Koran) is blasted by loud speaker into each and every village, no matter how remote. So much for religious freedom--Islam is with you in a village even when running water is not. Still, it was pretty hilarious to shoot up from slumber twice by the screeching of Arabic song! Well, maybe hilarious is not the word....
Day 3: Mohammed woke us to warm bread with fresh fig jam. Indescribably fantastic. Then, we hiked. And I mean hiked. Four hours completely uphill, starting from 8 in the morning! Then, we stopped in a village because we needed a break. A woman had us for tea and nuts. I don't think I could've gone on without some of that mouth-watering Moroccan tea and the amazing and fresh sugar-coated nuts. Well, after our break we trekked on, still almost completely uphill. Finally we stopped for lunch and everyone took a nap. About 7 hours from our starting point that morning, we finally made it to our gite for the night. This gite made the one from the last night look like a palace! Can I describe this dwelling in words? I certainly tried to through pictures, but even photographic evidence could not capture the essence of these Berber's homes. We finally hit the village, greeted by the village's manure storage area. And by storage area, I mean pile. Literally. Oh, and, of course, next to the manure pile was the village's trash pile. Amidst these piles were all sorts of lovely creatures, most noticeably flies and chickens.... Yum. They had a "toilet," which was a ceramic hole in the ground, but without running water, the hole was full and never went down. So lets just say using the restroom was something you did outside, next to the manure pile, which smelled a lot better than that bathroom.
There were children at this village too, but they didn't speak any English and weren't as friendly. The food wasn't as good and the beds were, somehow, impossibly, worse than the beds from the night before. I slept near the window in the girls bedroom because, as I mentioned, smelling the outside (manure and trash) was better than the inside (a toilet without running water).
Day 4: We woke up and walked down a bit to get to the vans that were going to take our group to the train station so we could return to the ship. This little walked turned into a hike because the drivers got lost and we had to keep going along the trail until we got to them! It had rained and many of the roads were closed and, I guess, this made for some confusion for the van-drivers. Oh, Morocco. We did get to the train station and rode the Marrakech Express back to Casablanca. I smelled SO bad. I'm not kidding. Donkey, rained-on mud, sweat, manure, Morocco in general, and dank train cars. Mixed together. In the Casablanca humidity. Kelsey almost gagged when I came home to our cabin. She immediately let me into the shower, though!
After I showered and became human again, we went to Rick's Cafe, modeled after the cafe in the classic movie, "Casablanca." It was cheesy, tacky, and incredibly fun. I went to bed early, so thankful for a toilet, water I could drink, a pillow, a blanket that was bug and twig free, and, most of all, a real shower.
Day 5: Today, I'm still sore from hiking, but, of course, I didn't let that inhibit my adventuring. I went to a lecture on Moroccan hip-hop culture that was given by the queen of Moroccan hip-hop herself, a young female rapper named Fati (spelling?). Check it out at www.ilovehiphopmorocco.com.
Then, I explored Casablanca for the first time, really. I have to say, I'm not a huge fan. All the negative things I had heard were true. It was dirty, uneventful, and did I mention is was dirty? I bought some stamps for a few postcards and spent the remainder of my Moroccan currency.
Let's just say its good to be back on the boat, albeit for a week, headed towards Accra, Ghana.
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