I decided a bit last minute to come to Holland for a wedding. This isn't like the weddings I went to in Morocco (I went to 3 weddings for people I didn't even know), but this wedding means much more to me. Melvina, one of my closest friends in South Africa, is getting married on Friday to a Dutchman. Melvina and I first met in South Africa back in 2003 when I taught Life Skills and AIDS Education Curriculum in a township outside of Cape Town. Her family invited me to stay for a few nights in their modest home in Plettenberg Baai. Since then, they've really adopted me as one of their own and I've continued to stay in contact with them while in the US and while visiting South Africa several times since 2003. I had the priviledge of meeting Melvina (and her husband to-be) last year when I came to Amsterdam and now I'm back in Holland (in Den Haag... just south of Amsterdam) for the wedding. Although Melvina knew I was coming, she didn't tell her parents so I was able to surprise them. It was as great moment, as they had no idea Ryan would randomly show up to their daughter's new apartment in The Hague.
Anyways, I thought I'd share a little bit of my experience flying here from Morocco as it was quite an memorable one. Here is a little something I wrote last night from Mohammad V Airport in Casablanca.
I don't know if it's this airport, or Air Arabia, or what. This is a total nightmare. I got here more than 2 and a half hours before the flight. I waited in line for about 1 hour and a half, passed security, got to in the terminal, only to find out the gate was already closed. "Did I miss my flight?" There were at least a hundred people still in line waiting after I checked in. It didn't say a gate, just "termine" (French, for "closed" or "finished"). After frantically going back and forth between terminal several times, only minutes before 4:10, which is when the plane was supposed to leave, it looks like I missed my plane. If the hand-written boarding passes weren't ghetto enough, a plane leaving with half it's flight missing, sure is one for the books. Only in Morocco I guess. Finally, I see a group of the people who were waiting in line with me to go to Amsterdam, all around the "information screen" getting upset at the police and airport security who have not a clue what's going on. "Just look on the screen" they said, "Air Arabia? Marsielle? France?" "NO. Amsterdam" I said. What?" Ahh... useless. They weren't much help. Finally, by ruling out that the plane didn't leave with only half flight, we assumed that it was delayed. Someone came up to us and said it was delayed 30 min (which then became 2 hours and then 4 hour delay), so we had to wait. It's pretty bad when 20 of your passengers are looking at the flight info screen, which says that the plane's left, and there's no one in the airport that can help. No Air Arabia service desks... nothing.
Back to the check-in line.... it was ridiculous. I moved about 12 feet the first 50 min. Then, this lady asked me to join her, as if we were flying together, so that her oversized bag wouldn't be charged. In America, that is totally illegal. I told her that and we both laughed. But I said, "Mekein Mushkil" ("no problem"). She was impressed by my shweeya Arabic (the reality is my Arabic is even far from "shweeya" so I tried not to feel too good about myself), and was grateful of my decision to help her out. OK, so I know I'm going to get a flood of emails, probably from my mom, telling me never to make such a stupid decision like that again. I know I know I know. Maybe in hindsight it wasn't the smartest decision, but know that I'm here and safe in Holland, I have no regrets about what I did. In my defense, I took nothing from her bag because she just asked me to check in with her so that the weight of her huge bag could be distributed to our total weight allowance. She was nice and got me ahead of the line and checked in. I felt kind of bad though. There were two lines; the one I was in, which was moving much faster (12ft/50min) and then there was the other one (not even half that pace). The people in the slow line looked at me with evil stares... but everything was out of my control. After telling my new friend that I'm on my way to Amsterdam to go to a wedding, "Well... The Hague" I told her, she told me that she lives in The Hague and asked if I had a place to stay. "You can stay with me and my husband, he's meeting me in Amsterdam". She was an middle aged Moroccan woman. Her English wasn't great, but we could communicate the basics. "I can drive you to The Hague" she said. I love it... Only in Morocco. First, I shouldn't have accepted to help with claiming her luggage... but I did. Then, she invites me to stay with her at her house and give me a ride to The Hague... just because... no strings attached! Haha! I feel like this is what the world should be like... "Can you help me with this (luggage)?" We lived in a screwed up world where we fear that someone is going to have drugs in her baggage or a bomb or something. Then... she makes sure I have a place to stay, otherwise I will be invited to her home. This is not the world as it is today (ok.. maybe the minority... or places like Morocco), but this is the world as it ought to be. There's hope in the midst of long lines and frustrating budget airlines.
I know this is bad, but standing in line was actually entertaining. There was no order, no "lines", just a crowd of people and their luggage waiting to check in. 30 feet later, after waiting two hours, you get to check in, only to watch your bag get a handwritten luggage tag, then handed a boarding pass written in pen. Gotta love the advance in technology! Because there was no roped off line, like most places in the world, some people tried cutting and others were getting heated. Then, yelling started. Two ladies started going at it in Arabic, both infuriated. The Police were just standing and watching (classic). In Ramadan, a time that encourages non-fighting, fights break out. People get irritated and heated. Then, everyone starts gathering around, and the husbands grabbed their wives to keep them from full on killing each other. These people would have been arrested, or not let on the plane, at the very least. I felt privileged to see such action at the airport, so close to me! Free entertainment. But then again, I guess I can try to understand why people got so upset. The waiting sucks, you haven't eaten or drank anything since 3:30am, and you just want to get to Amsterdam. But this is Ramadan. A time for patience. What good is fasting from food, when you don't control any of your other emotions. However frustrating it was, I just remembered, "It's Ramadan. If I can learn anything from this month, it's patience. Patience. Patience." So, I continued to watch... and laugh (on the inside of course). :)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Ramadan Starts Tomorrow... I Think
I'm back in Tangier now, the place that I will call my home for the next 4 or 5 months. Coming back to Tangier after a grand tour of Morocco, I know why I chose to make this place my home. The sunsets themselves are hard to beat. The summer sun sets behind the city on the Atlantic coast illuminating the sky with beautiful oranges and reds (I've only seen more more orangey sunsets in Los Angeles, but I think that is more because of the man-made pollution and exhaust of the 10 million residents... not the master artist himself). The clouds have both an airbrush and blotchy effect, I thought only obtainable on a canvas painting with oil or acrylic. But then I realize, isn't the one who created all this a better artist than the one who paints colorful sunsets and cool cloud formations on a two-dimensional sheet of canvas? Of course there is more to Tangier than the sunsets, like the 24 hour/day ocean breeze or the choice to take a dip in the Atlantic or the Mediterranean. But I'm just a really big fan of the sunsets. And the people of Tangier... well... they are... OK... I guess. (sarcastic). I love Tangerines (not only the fruit, but the people too). But I'm not going to show favoritism to my friends from Tangier because someone from Casablanca, Marrakech, or Fez might be reading this and I like them too! Also, after reading A.J. Jacob's book "A Year of Living Biblically", I've been inspired to follow the bible as literal as possible (I'm nowhere close... but it's worth a shot). The Apostle Paul writes "God does not show favoritism" (Romans 2:11) and Jesus says "Be perfect, for God is perfect." (Matthew 5:48). Therefore, I figure that in order to be perfect (no simple task for a guy like me), I probably shouldn't show favoritism to the people of Tangier, despite my love for the city.
Anyways, I heard some good news last night. One of my friends spent the summer working for a producer here in Tangier and was able to work on a few film sets. Tangier has been frequented in several movies. It's a scenic city conveniently situated on the Straight of Gibralter, looking right at the Southern coast of Spain. Between the countless rooftop terraces and the cafe-lined streets facing Mediterranean, it's no wonder that it has shown up in so many films, including the most recent, Bourne Ultimatum, the last of the Bourne Trilogy, where Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is filmed jumping from rooftop to rooftop through the medina (great movie... highly recommended). My friend also told me that she saw Matt Damon a few years ago when he was here filming at the same cafe that I go to just about every day. I don't know why, but this makes me feel cool, or special, because I go to the same hip cafe that Matt Damon went to when he was here. But then Jesus' words cut deep, "For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matthew 23:12). This whole "be perfect" thing is a bit harder than expected. Maybe with a bit more time and practice, it might become a bit more feasible. OK.... so the good news. I guess Leonardo DiCaprio flew in yesterday and he's shooting a film in the Medina for the next ten days. I was tempted to go meet Mr. DiCaprio at the airport, but maybe I'll just camp out at the 5-star hotel he's staying at and hopefully get an autograph. As I'm writing this, I realize that I have no idea the purpose for telling you this. Unless of course you were wondering where the pop star was, or if celebrities ever come to Morocco, now you know. On to more relevant things...
Ramadan starts tomorrow... I think. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month of fasting (no food, water, smoking, sex, or fighting) from sun up till sun down and is required of all Muslims (with exception for those who are pregnant or have other health issues/restrictions... they have to make up the days of fasting later) as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is one of the most important times of the Muslim year, when adherents fast, remember those who are less fortunate, and spend lots of time with family (unless you are in your early 20's and you study away from home, like many of my friends). There has been so much anticipation leading up to Ramadan, especially on TV where they advertise these cheesy Saudi soap operas and "comedies" that are aired during the month (During Ramadan, people watch tons of TV... more about that later). For those who haven't had any experience with Ramadan in the Arab world, think of Easter weekend on steroids. On Easter, churches around America are packed and nearly everyone becomes a church goer that Sunday. Multiply that times thirty. Mosques (so I hear) are so packed that people can't even fit into the mosques and are praying outside on the surrounding streets and sidewalks. Restaurants close, except for those ones that stay open for tourists. It is serious stuff. If a Moroccan (Muslim) breaks the fast in daylight by taking a sip of water in public, he can be arrested. Can you imagine during Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter) if Police went up to people asking if they gave up (or fasted from) anything during the 40 days? If they answered "no" they would be arrested, but if they said "yes, chocolate" then they were safe from the Police (and God's wrath). When I think about people giving up chocolate for Lent, it makes me wonder if it's really worth it. Jesus fasted for 40 days... and we give up chocolate. I just don't think that's what Jesus had in mind. Maybe something more like food and water, as He did. Maybe then we'd know what it's like to be poor, without food, and the only thing in life we have to count on is God. But then I'm just being too idealist.
Back to Ramadan. You get the point... this is important stuff! It's on the top 5 (pillars) list of Islam for Heaven's sake. But, do we know when it's starting? Does anyone know when it's starting? Earlier this week, I was told that Ramadan would start on Thursday, or maybe Friday. Later in the week, I started hearing, "Friday... maybe Saturday". Even last night (Thursday) still no one was 100% sure, "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Saturday". "No. Saturday or Sunday" someone else said. I understand that it all depends on the moon, but with 1.3 billion Muslims anticipating this 30 day fast, it's hard to imagine that all 1.3 billion are sitting around wondering if it's going to be Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. So, assuming it starts tomorrow, today will be the last day I get to enjoy drinking water and eating (i'm not much of a smoker or a fighter, so those aren't too bad for me to give up and I'm not married, so I don't have to worry about the sex) during the day. I can understand why non-Muslims living in or visiting a Muslim country during Ramadan might not fast. But eating or drinking in public is just flat out inconsiderate (in my opinion). It is my goal to fast during Ramadan and if at any point I change my mind (not planning on it) or I need to eat or drink because of illness, I will still not do so in public, simply out of the respect to my Muslim brothers and sisters fasting around me. As I mentioned before, Ramadan is a time of sacrifice. When we give up the basic everyday norms, we not only rely on God's grace and mercy, but also humbled to think of those who are less fortunate than ourselves (the majority of the world). There is purpose in the month of Ramadan, not just several weeks of hollow actions and practices. Although he was talking about his experience with Judeo-Christian traditions, the words of A.J. Jacobs can be applied in this Muslim context as well, "I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in this world."
Unfortunately, there is a negative side to Ramadan that I feel necessary to share. Of course, there may be some Muslims who don't really follow Islam and therefore might eat and drink and smoke on their own during Ramadan. These may be called "Cultural Muslims", a term used by one of my Moroccan friends. He told me this term when describing the commonalities between Morocco and Mexico. Having spent a significant amount of time in Mexico, he was making a parallel between Catholic Mexicans and Muslim Moroccans. Statistically, they each represent almost 100% of their respective populations. However, there are some Catholics who are Catholic because they are Mexican and because almost everyone else (in Mexico) is, just as there are some Muslims who are Muslims simply because they are Moroccan. In both cases, they are more "cultural" than religious. Their life reflects a life that is more in line with the greater culture than that of a life of real and relevant faith. This isn't even the negative side that I'm talking about. I think this "cultural (fill in the blank here)" term is somewhat universal. It can be applied to Catholics, Christians, Muslims, Jews and probably Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Ok, maybe not atheists, but anyways... During the month of Ramadan, many Muslims, whether or not they fast or eat, can usually be found in front of the TV, watching cheesy Saudi Ramadan sitcom specials. I don't mean to say that you can't watch TV during Ramadan (who am I to judge?), but it seems like it takes away the purpose of this holy month, especially when watched 12 or 15 hours a day. A bit like giving up chocolate for Lent, maybe TV sitcoms aren't what God had in mind. Furthermore, most Muslims wake up before the first call for prayer (around 3:30 or 4am) to eat their last/first meal before the sun comes up, then go back to sleep for a few hours before starting the day. I have no objection to this. It's when people wake up at 3 or 4am to eat, then go back to sleep until 1 or 2pm. They wake up in the afternoon, go pray at the mosque, then come back for a late afternoon nap. Before you know it, the sun's down and it's time to eat again. What's the point of fasting when you spend most of your time awake feasting? Of course they "followed" the rules and restrictions of fasting from sun up until sun down, but was it really a sacrifice? Of course I could "follow" the rules by giving up eating chocolate or white bread for Lent, but is that getting at the heart of it? I have so much respect for those who, despite the side-effects of not eating or drinking, continue to work during Ramadan, who wake up before noon, and who fast without complaining. It's not about drawing attention to ourselves, but being humbled and sacrificing. I hope that after saying all this that I fall into the former category as one who sacrifices the things taken for granted every day to rely on God and to begin to understand what it might be like to be poor and hungry.
I don't mean to end on a negative note because this is not the heart of Ramadan. But I do feel like I would be unjust in saying that Ramadan is a super-holy month, its heart and purpose observed by ALL Muslims all across the world. That would just be like saying that ALL Christians give away half of their possessions to the poor, lend money to others without being expected to be paid back, invite strangers into their homes, when taken to court they offer the persecutor the clothes off their back, visit those in prison, or love their enemies and do good to those who hate them. Maybe one day...
Until then, reflect (and act) on Gandhi's probably-overstated, yet timelessly applicable words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."
(If you aren't challenged by these words, then maybe something is wrong... or I'm living in a different world than you and we need to talk)
Anyways, I heard some good news last night. One of my friends spent the summer working for a producer here in Tangier and was able to work on a few film sets. Tangier has been frequented in several movies. It's a scenic city conveniently situated on the Straight of Gibralter, looking right at the Southern coast of Spain. Between the countless rooftop terraces and the cafe-lined streets facing Mediterranean, it's no wonder that it has shown up in so many films, including the most recent, Bourne Ultimatum, the last of the Bourne Trilogy, where Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is filmed jumping from rooftop to rooftop through the medina (great movie... highly recommended). My friend also told me that she saw Matt Damon a few years ago when he was here filming at the same cafe that I go to just about every day. I don't know why, but this makes me feel cool, or special, because I go to the same hip cafe that Matt Damon went to when he was here. But then Jesus' words cut deep, "For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matthew 23:12). This whole "be perfect" thing is a bit harder than expected. Maybe with a bit more time and practice, it might become a bit more feasible. OK.... so the good news. I guess Leonardo DiCaprio flew in yesterday and he's shooting a film in the Medina for the next ten days. I was tempted to go meet Mr. DiCaprio at the airport, but maybe I'll just camp out at the 5-star hotel he's staying at and hopefully get an autograph. As I'm writing this, I realize that I have no idea the purpose for telling you this. Unless of course you were wondering where the pop star was, or if celebrities ever come to Morocco, now you know. On to more relevant things...
Ramadan starts tomorrow... I think. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month of fasting (no food, water, smoking, sex, or fighting) from sun up till sun down and is required of all Muslims (with exception for those who are pregnant or have other health issues/restrictions... they have to make up the days of fasting later) as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is one of the most important times of the Muslim year, when adherents fast, remember those who are less fortunate, and spend lots of time with family (unless you are in your early 20's and you study away from home, like many of my friends). There has been so much anticipation leading up to Ramadan, especially on TV where they advertise these cheesy Saudi soap operas and "comedies" that are aired during the month (During Ramadan, people watch tons of TV... more about that later). For those who haven't had any experience with Ramadan in the Arab world, think of Easter weekend on steroids. On Easter, churches around America are packed and nearly everyone becomes a church goer that Sunday. Multiply that times thirty. Mosques (so I hear) are so packed that people can't even fit into the mosques and are praying outside on the surrounding streets and sidewalks. Restaurants close, except for those ones that stay open for tourists. It is serious stuff. If a Moroccan (Muslim) breaks the fast in daylight by taking a sip of water in public, he can be arrested. Can you imagine during Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter) if Police went up to people asking if they gave up (or fasted from) anything during the 40 days? If they answered "no" they would be arrested, but if they said "yes, chocolate" then they were safe from the Police (and God's wrath). When I think about people giving up chocolate for Lent, it makes me wonder if it's really worth it. Jesus fasted for 40 days... and we give up chocolate. I just don't think that's what Jesus had in mind. Maybe something more like food and water, as He did. Maybe then we'd know what it's like to be poor, without food, and the only thing in life we have to count on is God. But then I'm just being too idealist.
Back to Ramadan. You get the point... this is important stuff! It's on the top 5 (pillars) list of Islam for Heaven's sake. But, do we know when it's starting? Does anyone know when it's starting? Earlier this week, I was told that Ramadan would start on Thursday, or maybe Friday. Later in the week, I started hearing, "Friday... maybe Saturday". Even last night (Thursday) still no one was 100% sure, "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Saturday". "No. Saturday or Sunday" someone else said. I understand that it all depends on the moon, but with 1.3 billion Muslims anticipating this 30 day fast, it's hard to imagine that all 1.3 billion are sitting around wondering if it's going to be Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. So, assuming it starts tomorrow, today will be the last day I get to enjoy drinking water and eating (i'm not much of a smoker or a fighter, so those aren't too bad for me to give up and I'm not married, so I don't have to worry about the sex) during the day. I can understand why non-Muslims living in or visiting a Muslim country during Ramadan might not fast. But eating or drinking in public is just flat out inconsiderate (in my opinion). It is my goal to fast during Ramadan and if at any point I change my mind (not planning on it) or I need to eat or drink because of illness, I will still not do so in public, simply out of the respect to my Muslim brothers and sisters fasting around me. As I mentioned before, Ramadan is a time of sacrifice. When we give up the basic everyday norms, we not only rely on God's grace and mercy, but also humbled to think of those who are less fortunate than ourselves (the majority of the world). There is purpose in the month of Ramadan, not just several weeks of hollow actions and practices. Although he was talking about his experience with Judeo-Christian traditions, the words of A.J. Jacobs can be applied in this Muslim context as well, "I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in this world."
Unfortunately, there is a negative side to Ramadan that I feel necessary to share. Of course, there may be some Muslims who don't really follow Islam and therefore might eat and drink and smoke on their own during Ramadan. These may be called "Cultural Muslims", a term used by one of my Moroccan friends. He told me this term when describing the commonalities between Morocco and Mexico. Having spent a significant amount of time in Mexico, he was making a parallel between Catholic Mexicans and Muslim Moroccans. Statistically, they each represent almost 100% of their respective populations. However, there are some Catholics who are Catholic because they are Mexican and because almost everyone else (in Mexico) is, just as there are some Muslims who are Muslims simply because they are Moroccan. In both cases, they are more "cultural" than religious. Their life reflects a life that is more in line with the greater culture than that of a life of real and relevant faith. This isn't even the negative side that I'm talking about. I think this "cultural (fill in the blank here)" term is somewhat universal. It can be applied to Catholics, Christians, Muslims, Jews and probably Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Ok, maybe not atheists, but anyways... During the month of Ramadan, many Muslims, whether or not they fast or eat, can usually be found in front of the TV, watching cheesy Saudi Ramadan sitcom specials. I don't mean to say that you can't watch TV during Ramadan (who am I to judge?), but it seems like it takes away the purpose of this holy month, especially when watched 12 or 15 hours a day. A bit like giving up chocolate for Lent, maybe TV sitcoms aren't what God had in mind. Furthermore, most Muslims wake up before the first call for prayer (around 3:30 or 4am) to eat their last/first meal before the sun comes up, then go back to sleep for a few hours before starting the day. I have no objection to this. It's when people wake up at 3 or 4am to eat, then go back to sleep until 1 or 2pm. They wake up in the afternoon, go pray at the mosque, then come back for a late afternoon nap. Before you know it, the sun's down and it's time to eat again. What's the point of fasting when you spend most of your time awake feasting? Of course they "followed" the rules and restrictions of fasting from sun up until sun down, but was it really a sacrifice? Of course I could "follow" the rules by giving up eating chocolate or white bread for Lent, but is that getting at the heart of it? I have so much respect for those who, despite the side-effects of not eating or drinking, continue to work during Ramadan, who wake up before noon, and who fast without complaining. It's not about drawing attention to ourselves, but being humbled and sacrificing. I hope that after saying all this that I fall into the former category as one who sacrifices the things taken for granted every day to rely on God and to begin to understand what it might be like to be poor and hungry.
I don't mean to end on a negative note because this is not the heart of Ramadan. But I do feel like I would be unjust in saying that Ramadan is a super-holy month, its heart and purpose observed by ALL Muslims all across the world. That would just be like saying that ALL Christians give away half of their possessions to the poor, lend money to others without being expected to be paid back, invite strangers into their homes, when taken to court they offer the persecutor the clothes off their back, visit those in prison, or love their enemies and do good to those who hate them. Maybe one day...
Until then, reflect (and act) on Gandhi's probably-overstated, yet timelessly applicable words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."
(If you aren't challenged by these words, then maybe something is wrong... or I'm living in a different world than you and we need to talk)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Family... And Ryan, Sheesha and Sex Tourism
Warning: This is a long one.... :/
I'm back in Marrakech, the place where it all started. It was two months ago today (the 10th) that I landed here, my first point of entry into Morocco. There's something about this place that keeps bringing me back. I know that it's not the weather (the summer temperature is usually around or above 47C/116F) or the ocean breeze (the closest beach is a good two hour drive). There's a craziness of Marrkech that I'm beginning to love and the hospitality is so welcoming, it's almost too much (more about that later... either this blog or the next). A first visit Marrakech might throw some people into an uncomfortable spin. On the taxi ride from the airport into town, one might encounter several near-death collisions with motorbikes, other taxis, trucks, or classy SUVs that are being driven by wealthy vacationers from Europe. But despite the chaos, there seems to be some functioning way of life. There is beauty in the midst of chaos. You see families of 4 riding together on one motorcycle, without any helmets-- the husband is usually driving, the youngest one in front of him on the handlebars, and the 7 year-old sandwiched between him and his wife on the back. My favorite is when there is a helmet strapped onto the handlebars. Really? How hard is it just to put the darn thing on? However dangerous it is, it has become one of my favorite snapshots of Morocco. Coming from a country where a family of 4 often has 5 cars, it's nice to see a change (not to mention the amount of resources saved and emissions not destroying our beautiful planet). I'm thinking of adopting the 4-person-to-1-motorcycle-rule when I return to the States and have a family some day. Don't worry though, the helmets will be worn on our heads instead of the handlebars.
Well, it's been a few weeks since I've written anything, and so you are probably wondering a few things... Why am I in Marrakech? What happened to that cool family I lived with in Fes? Am I still studying Arabic? and Have I been to any more weddings lately? Let me back up a bit. The last week in July was also my last week in Fes at ALIF (Arabic Language Institute of Fes). It was a great week. I spent quite a bit of time with my classmates. We called ourselves "The Family". After six weeks of being together for several hours every day, we were like a family. However, the class consisted of 6 girls and myself, so it turned into "The Family.... and Ryan" (what a downer). I'm always the odd one out. Our last "hoorah" was a trip into the desert where we road dromedaries into the dunes at sunset. It was postcard material. We all wore these scarves and looked like Lawrence of Arabia and spent the night under a moonless night in the Sahara. Without the moon, there were billions and billions of stars. I laid on top of a sand dune, the same one I laid on just over one year before on my trip to the same place, and was overwhelmed by the infiniteness of the universe. Or shall I say, the finiteness of the universe and the infiniteness of God, the creator of this crazy big universe. It was one of the moments that was just myself and my creator, not a worry or care in the world, and completely flooded with awe and praise to the One and Only. So you're either thinking one of two things, A.) That my night in desert involved the use of some drug or hallucinogenic Moroccan substance OR B.) You know exactly what I'm talking about because you too have been in a similar setting, overwhelmed by the infiniteness of God, and you know I'm not too out there. Believe what you'd like, but I'm hoping that you go for choice B. The desert, without a doubt, makes the short list on the top things to do in Morocco. It was the highlight of my trip last year and I think no trip to Morocco is complete without watching a sunrise or a sunset from the Saharan Dunes. After taking the camels back and grabbing a quick breakfast, we hit the road for our 10 hour journey back to Fes. Along the way, however, we stopped at a lake (well, it was a river until they built a dam, and now it's a huge lake) to take a dip. We were the only ones at the lake and we weren't quite sure if it was even legal to be swimming. The setting was spectacular- a (dam-made) lake in the middle of the desert at the base of the Middle Atlas Mountains... not a single soul around.
The trip to the desert came at perfect timing. It was a bonding experience for "The Family... and Ryan". Our whole class went on the trip except for the crazy lady in our class. I still barely know her name because every time someone asked, she said "AyeKatarina bla bla bla". All I know is that she is a forty-something year-old lady born in Turkey, now lives in Greece, and is over-the-top defensive and rude. The last week in class when we were exchanging emails and contact information, she refused to write anything down and said, "You didn't miss me in the desert, so you won't miss me in the future". (By the way, I kindly asked if she wanted to join us on our trip out to the desert, but she refused). I could go on and on with stories about AyeKatarina, but I will spare both you and myself.
After spending 6 weeks with a Fassi (a person or thing from Fes) family, I was just getting into the Fassi groove. When driving Mounia around in her new (but old) Renault, I knew all the pot holes to avoid and traffic circles that were yield (about half of the traffic circles are yield and the other half, you have the right-away unless it's a red light), I was getting used to Fassi Darija accent, it was normal for me to eat all three meals without ever touching a fork, knife or spoon, I could shoe away obnoxious Fassis that wanted me to eat at their restaurant or take their tour of the medina, and 105 degree heat (40C) was mild and cool enough to play soccer in. So for my final night in Fes, I figured that it would be best spent at a wedding. Let me tell you, Fassis know how to throw a wedding! This topped the other two weddings I went. The venue was a huge flashy villa a few kilometers outside centre ville. The bride and groom arrived around 9pm, which kicked off the celebration, accompanied by a live band that played Moroccan (wedding) hits. *NOTE: I know this is really culturally insensitive of me, but honestly, all the songs roughly sound the same. Of course the melody and the beats differ from song to song, but I can't tell if they are speaking Darija, Berber (a language spoken by the people from Morocco before the Arabs came), Arabic FusHa, Lebanese Arabic, or Egyptian Arabic. Shoot, maybe there were a few sung in English that I didn't even realize. One song plays and Mounia tells me that it's a song from a genre specific to the region of Fes, but I think to myself, "This sounds just like the song they played at the wedding in Tangier". The bad news is, I can't tell the difference between Fassi songs, songs from Tangier, or songs from Lebanon or Egypt (although you'd think it would be more obvious... maybe just for the native Arabic-speaker). The good news is, I got so many of these songs stuck in my head that a week after, I found myself humming the melodies, not knowing any words, and my Moroccan friends making fun of me.
Anyway, I sat a table with Mounia and her niece Oumeima. We sat and watched everyone dance in the main room of the villa until it looked like they were having too much fun, then we'd join. Let me just say that these guys (well, mostly girls) know how to dance and have a blast. The first half of the night, I found myself to be the only guy on the dance floor, which is every man's dream (dont worry, it's not dream, Diandra). Unlike America, people here don't really dance with each other in pairs, they just dance. Occasionally you get a group of sweaty bodies that lock arms and start jumping up and down screaming in Arabic. If you didn't know any better, you would think that these people had a few too many cocktails at the bar before hitting the dance floor, but the reality is there is not a drip of alcohol to be found. Weddings here, just like most Moroccan's lives, are alcohol-free thanks to the Qur'an.
It's worth mentioning that throughout this wedding, the bride wore a total of 6 different dresses! Yes, 6! And they weren't just any dresses... they were colorful, extravagant, and expensive! I think I got a picture of all of them, so I'll have to share them with you when I get back. The dancing stopped with the food came out. Weddings in Morocco go in reverse order from the wedding receptions in America. In Morocco, it begins with dancing and music, and ends quietly with a huge meal and lots of picture taken. I am still in awe about how they prepared so much food for so many people. The first meal was seafood pastilla. This looks like an enormous chicken pot pie, but instead stuffed with a wide variety of sea food. It's a very elegant and savory dish, and one Fassi told me "Pastilla is for rich people." Each table (there were probably 20-30, 8-10 per table) got one of these huge pastillas, enough to feed 15 people. I was stuffed. Then, they brought a whole roasted lamb on a huge silver platter to each table. The lamb dish is one of the most famous in Morocco and has been served at all three weddings I went to so far. The lamb sits in this rich sauce, or juice, and garnished with savory prunes. It's no wonder the whole wedding goes silent when the food comes. After you can't stuff anything more down your throat, the fruit assortment comes, followed by mint tea. At this point it's 2:30am and some people take off, as if it's too late and they have work in the morning or something. But not us. Mounia gets to sleep in and I have a final at 8am. We stay until about 3:30am or 4am, banging on tables and making up witty chants in Darija. This one guy at our table, Kareem, was hilarious. Type-A personality, over-the-top nice and made sure everyone was having a good time. His mom was also at our table and was like an older, funnier, woman version of him. I guess it's custom to make fun of the quiet tables, as if they are not having a good time. This soon turned into a "who can bang on their tables the most and get the most stares"-sort of challenge. We definitely had the most exciting table and it was the most I've laughed in a long time. If this is making no sense to you, I'm sorry, you just had to be there. :(
Half way home at 4am, Mounia decided she wanted her last driving lesson (it's a perfect time because there's no one on the roads). She bought her car several weeks ago, but doesn't know how to drive a manual car, so relied on me to be her driving instructor. This presented some very frustration, but mostly scary, situations. I can't remember how many times she stalled in the middle of a big intersection and couldn't get the car to move. I think I ran out of fingers counting the times of near-death experiences (and this car was made a few decades before the airbag era). As much as I wanted to get home by 4:30am and get a few hours of shut-eye before my final exam, I stopped the car, switched places, and played it cool. "Patience, Patience, Patience" I keep reminding myself.
Of course, I set my alarm only to have turned it off and fallen back asleep. I dont remember doing that, but it's the only thing that could have happened. I woke up frantically at 7:45 (I dont know why... but lhumdullah) quickly put on a shirt grabbed a pen, and jetted out the door. It takes 15 minutes (well, 13min to be exact) to get to school in the morning so I sacrificed the breakfast, the brushing teeth, and the milk and coffee to get to my exam on time. The exam wasn't so bad after all. With language (unlike studying over a list of organic-chemistry terms or something like), you either know it or you don't. It doesn't really matter how much sleep I got or didn't get. I missed a few questions on the test, not because of the sleep that I didn't get the night before, but because of the my competence-level in Arabic. Also on the bright side, the wedding was a much richer experience and more memorable than if I would have stayed at home studying.
Friday was a sad day of goodbyes. Goodbyes to my two professors. Goodbyes to my classmates/"The Family" (all except for AyeKatrina who said something like "have a good life, happy travels" and then walked out the door). And then there was my family, Ahilatee Margrabeeya. I've said plenty of goodbyes in my life, but there are a handful of really meaningful goodbyes that make my hands shake and my heart race as if I were on a caffeine high or about to play a rock concert or something. This one was one of those heart-racing caffeine buzz ones. I'm sure I will see them soon, maybe in a few weeks if I come back to Fes, but this family has taken me in as one of their own. I felt like a son to Mounia, a grandson to grandma, an "older brother" to Oumeima (those were her words), a cousin of Faisal and Medi and Zakariah and Issam, and a nephew of Sana and Sameera. I will miss the laughs, the amazing meals cooked by mama every day, the cockroaches in my bathroom (OK, maybe not), the frustrating yet scary driving lessons with Mounia, the temper tantrums of Medi, the horseplay with Faisal, the Spanish practice and lessons with Oumeima, the Turkish soap operas (Mierna wa Halil), and the smile and high-fives of grandma. The thing with goodbyes is that there is so much anticipation leading up to it, and then... boom. It's over, just like that. This was one of those. Out of the door, I was instantly preoccupied with finding a taxi to get to the train station ASAP. I was about to miss my train.
The next week took me to several cities in Morocco, mostly in the southern part of the country. I took the train to Casablanca where I met up with Laila. She helped me find a store where I took my camera to get fixed. The following day, I met up with some friends from Tangier, Taha and Haitam, as well as Meagan and Brooke (they studied on the The Scholar Ship with Taha and I and are traveling in Morocco for a couple weeks), AJ (traveling with Meagan and Brooke) and Mohssine and Marie (Americans living in Tangier... Mohssine is a Fullbright Scholar and professional drummer/musician doing a project with street children here in Morocco). It was a road trip that has been in the works for a couple months now. Unfortunately, something happened last minute and two other friends from Tangier (Karima and Imane) weren't able to make it on trip. So, it was mostly Americans, and one fellow Canadian (Brooke) who was the butt of all the jokes. With Taha driving one car and Haitam the other, they picked Laila and I up in Casablanca and we headed to Marrakech, where we stayed for two nights. Laila's family had us over for lunch the following day, where I think I ate the biggest lunch in my entire life (I'm not exaggerating). Let's just say that I didn't eat anything until the following afternoon!!! Remember the seafood pastilla at the wedding? Yup, her grandmother made one of those! This was after the assortment of salad and vegetables and tea. I stuffed myself full of pastilla, just as everyone else did. You could tell we were full. We slowed down, unable to eat anymore. That's when I turned to Brooke and said, "Yeah, this is only the first entree." I was half-joking (more like 90%). Then, another entree came... this time, bigger! Even I was surprised! It was the lamb and prunes dish!!!! I don't know how, but I just kept eating. It was so good! It is one of the nicest, most elegant meals that can be made for a guest (remember the hospitality I mentioned in paragraph one... this is a bit of what I'm talking about... Marrakech hospitality). There's no way you can turn that down! I really think I ate 5 pounds of food that day for lunch! I could barely breath! Of course, the meal was followed by a huge plate of fruit and Moroccan sweets and tea.
Next stop was Essaouira, one of my favorite places in Morocco. It's a beautiful white-washed medieval-esque (probably older) beach town. It was where I spent my last night in Morocco last year when I was here. It has this melancholy vibe to it or maybe it's just me being too sentimental. Jimi Hendrix spent a significant amount of time in this area, and it is thought that the ancient castle ruins on the beach a few miles south of the town inspired him to write "Castles Made of Sand". Despite the thousands of tourists packed in the tiny alleys of the medina, Essaouira has this laid-back feel to it and is unlike anywhere else in Morocco. Definitely a gem worth visiting in the summer!
From Essaouira, we traveled south to Agadir. Agadir is a city that I haven't been in Morocco, so I was really excited to go. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a let down. I don't know what my expectations where, but they weren't met. I'm sure with more time spend there, it would have been nicer, but at first glance, it's a bit of a gritty city. There wasn't too much character besides a string of beach resorts. We met one of Taha's friends from his University that lives in Agadir. He was really nice, a great host (not a surprise for Morocco), and showed us around for the two days we were there. He mentioned that Agadir was once best-known for its sex tourism. This got brought up as we were at a table sitting behind two guys from Saudi Arabia, whom he implied that they were here for reasons other than the beach. It didn't make much sense, as Dubai is much closer to Saudi Arabia and its reputation for sex tourism is booming. He told me that it's cheeper here in Morocco than places other places in the gulf like Dubai, so they often come here. A few hours later when we were walking down the boardwalk, I asked him if there were any sheesha cafes. Smoking sheesha (or hookah) is common throughout much of North Africa and the Middle East. He told me that the state (or province) of Agadir has banned sheesha and made smoking sheesha illegal, unlike other regions in Morocco where it's common. I am still mesmerized at the fact that sex tourism thrives in Agadir, but it is illegal to smoke sheesha in a cafe. Get me out of here!!!
We drove 5 hours through the night to Ouarzazate, a town on the east side of the High Atlas Mountains, just opposite from Marrakech. Ouarzazate is well-known for its studios. Big-name Hollywood movies like Gladiator, Alexander, The Mummy, Babel, and many others have been filmed here in Ouarzazate. Other than that, it's not too exciting. After an afternoon spent reading and hanging out, I said my goodbyes to the road trippin' group before bed. Taha took me early the next morning to the bus station so I could catch the morning bus back to Marrakech, while the group continued up to the desert, Ifrane, and back to Tangier. We split because my camera is fixed and waiting for me in Casablanca. I'm taking a few days here in Marrakech to work on my studies for APU and then in a few days, I'll head up to Casablanca, rescue my camera, maybe hit up another wedding and Fes, and then back to Tangier, where I'll be for the majority of the next 4 months. I'm excited for Ramadan, which starts in two weeks, or less, and a chance to finally settle in, for good. No more road trippin' or weekend trips (OK, maybe one or two here and there). It's Tangier for several months. Ramadan, internship, research project, and hopefully some improvement on my Arabic.
If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading my LOOOONG blog entry. It really means a lot that you'd take some time out of your busy day to read this. In an era like today, when almost everything is visual or made into a movie, it makes reading that more uncommon, but much more special. I wish I could reward you with a treat or prize of some sort, like a Moroccan cookie and mint tea, or at least some profound proverb or enlightening epiphany that I've had recently. But I think we're both out of luck. There's a saying in Darija that says, "Your portion is in Paradise". It's said when someone is fasting and you are eating in front of them.... So, I guess I leave by saying that to you... "your gift for reading my very long blog is in Paradise". I don't know what it is, but it's there in Paradise. :) Now go in peace. Ma' Salaama
I'm back in Marrakech, the place where it all started. It was two months ago today (the 10th) that I landed here, my first point of entry into Morocco. There's something about this place that keeps bringing me back. I know that it's not the weather (the summer temperature is usually around or above 47C/116F) or the ocean breeze (the closest beach is a good two hour drive). There's a craziness of Marrkech that I'm beginning to love and the hospitality is so welcoming, it's almost too much (more about that later... either this blog or the next). A first visit Marrakech might throw some people into an uncomfortable spin. On the taxi ride from the airport into town, one might encounter several near-death collisions with motorbikes, other taxis, trucks, or classy SUVs that are being driven by wealthy vacationers from Europe. But despite the chaos, there seems to be some functioning way of life. There is beauty in the midst of chaos. You see families of 4 riding together on one motorcycle, without any helmets-- the husband is usually driving, the youngest one in front of him on the handlebars, and the 7 year-old sandwiched between him and his wife on the back. My favorite is when there is a helmet strapped onto the handlebars. Really? How hard is it just to put the darn thing on? However dangerous it is, it has become one of my favorite snapshots of Morocco. Coming from a country where a family of 4 often has 5 cars, it's nice to see a change (not to mention the amount of resources saved and emissions not destroying our beautiful planet). I'm thinking of adopting the 4-person-to-1-motorcycle-rule when I return to the States and have a family some day. Don't worry though, the helmets will be worn on our heads instead of the handlebars.
Well, it's been a few weeks since I've written anything, and so you are probably wondering a few things... Why am I in Marrakech? What happened to that cool family I lived with in Fes? Am I still studying Arabic? and Have I been to any more weddings lately? Let me back up a bit. The last week in July was also my last week in Fes at ALIF (Arabic Language Institute of Fes). It was a great week. I spent quite a bit of time with my classmates. We called ourselves "The Family". After six weeks of being together for several hours every day, we were like a family. However, the class consisted of 6 girls and myself, so it turned into "The Family.... and Ryan" (what a downer). I'm always the odd one out. Our last "hoorah" was a trip into the desert where we road dromedaries into the dunes at sunset. It was postcard material. We all wore these scarves and looked like Lawrence of Arabia and spent the night under a moonless night in the Sahara. Without the moon, there were billions and billions of stars. I laid on top of a sand dune, the same one I laid on just over one year before on my trip to the same place, and was overwhelmed by the infiniteness of the universe. Or shall I say, the finiteness of the universe and the infiniteness of God, the creator of this crazy big universe. It was one of the moments that was just myself and my creator, not a worry or care in the world, and completely flooded with awe and praise to the One and Only. So you're either thinking one of two things, A.) That my night in desert involved the use of some drug or hallucinogenic Moroccan substance OR B.) You know exactly what I'm talking about because you too have been in a similar setting, overwhelmed by the infiniteness of God, and you know I'm not too out there. Believe what you'd like, but I'm hoping that you go for choice B. The desert, without a doubt, makes the short list on the top things to do in Morocco. It was the highlight of my trip last year and I think no trip to Morocco is complete without watching a sunrise or a sunset from the Saharan Dunes. After taking the camels back and grabbing a quick breakfast, we hit the road for our 10 hour journey back to Fes. Along the way, however, we stopped at a lake (well, it was a river until they built a dam, and now it's a huge lake) to take a dip. We were the only ones at the lake and we weren't quite sure if it was even legal to be swimming. The setting was spectacular- a (dam-made) lake in the middle of the desert at the base of the Middle Atlas Mountains... not a single soul around.
The trip to the desert came at perfect timing. It was a bonding experience for "The Family... and Ryan". Our whole class went on the trip except for the crazy lady in our class. I still barely know her name because every time someone asked, she said "AyeKatarina bla bla bla". All I know is that she is a forty-something year-old lady born in Turkey, now lives in Greece, and is over-the-top defensive and rude. The last week in class when we were exchanging emails and contact information, she refused to write anything down and said, "You didn't miss me in the desert, so you won't miss me in the future". (By the way, I kindly asked if she wanted to join us on our trip out to the desert, but she refused). I could go on and on with stories about AyeKatarina, but I will spare both you and myself.
After spending 6 weeks with a Fassi (a person or thing from Fes) family, I was just getting into the Fassi groove. When driving Mounia around in her new (but old) Renault, I knew all the pot holes to avoid and traffic circles that were yield (about half of the traffic circles are yield and the other half, you have the right-away unless it's a red light), I was getting used to Fassi Darija accent, it was normal for me to eat all three meals without ever touching a fork, knife or spoon, I could shoe away obnoxious Fassis that wanted me to eat at their restaurant or take their tour of the medina, and 105 degree heat (40C) was mild and cool enough to play soccer in. So for my final night in Fes, I figured that it would be best spent at a wedding. Let me tell you, Fassis know how to throw a wedding! This topped the other two weddings I went. The venue was a huge flashy villa a few kilometers outside centre ville. The bride and groom arrived around 9pm, which kicked off the celebration, accompanied by a live band that played Moroccan (wedding) hits. *NOTE: I know this is really culturally insensitive of me, but honestly, all the songs roughly sound the same. Of course the melody and the beats differ from song to song, but I can't tell if they are speaking Darija, Berber (a language spoken by the people from Morocco before the Arabs came), Arabic FusHa, Lebanese Arabic, or Egyptian Arabic. Shoot, maybe there were a few sung in English that I didn't even realize. One song plays and Mounia tells me that it's a song from a genre specific to the region of Fes, but I think to myself, "This sounds just like the song they played at the wedding in Tangier". The bad news is, I can't tell the difference between Fassi songs, songs from Tangier, or songs from Lebanon or Egypt (although you'd think it would be more obvious... maybe just for the native Arabic-speaker). The good news is, I got so many of these songs stuck in my head that a week after, I found myself humming the melodies, not knowing any words, and my Moroccan friends making fun of me.
Anyway, I sat a table with Mounia and her niece Oumeima. We sat and watched everyone dance in the main room of the villa until it looked like they were having too much fun, then we'd join. Let me just say that these guys (well, mostly girls) know how to dance and have a blast. The first half of the night, I found myself to be the only guy on the dance floor, which is every man's dream (dont worry, it's not dream, Diandra). Unlike America, people here don't really dance with each other in pairs, they just dance. Occasionally you get a group of sweaty bodies that lock arms and start jumping up and down screaming in Arabic. If you didn't know any better, you would think that these people had a few too many cocktails at the bar before hitting the dance floor, but the reality is there is not a drip of alcohol to be found. Weddings here, just like most Moroccan's lives, are alcohol-free thanks to the Qur'an.
It's worth mentioning that throughout this wedding, the bride wore a total of 6 different dresses! Yes, 6! And they weren't just any dresses... they were colorful, extravagant, and expensive! I think I got a picture of all of them, so I'll have to share them with you when I get back. The dancing stopped with the food came out. Weddings in Morocco go in reverse order from the wedding receptions in America. In Morocco, it begins with dancing and music, and ends quietly with a huge meal and lots of picture taken. I am still in awe about how they prepared so much food for so many people. The first meal was seafood pastilla. This looks like an enormous chicken pot pie, but instead stuffed with a wide variety of sea food. It's a very elegant and savory dish, and one Fassi told me "Pastilla is for rich people." Each table (there were probably 20-30, 8-10 per table) got one of these huge pastillas, enough to feed 15 people. I was stuffed. Then, they brought a whole roasted lamb on a huge silver platter to each table. The lamb dish is one of the most famous in Morocco and has been served at all three weddings I went to so far. The lamb sits in this rich sauce, or juice, and garnished with savory prunes. It's no wonder the whole wedding goes silent when the food comes. After you can't stuff anything more down your throat, the fruit assortment comes, followed by mint tea. At this point it's 2:30am and some people take off, as if it's too late and they have work in the morning or something. But not us. Mounia gets to sleep in and I have a final at 8am. We stay until about 3:30am or 4am, banging on tables and making up witty chants in Darija. This one guy at our table, Kareem, was hilarious. Type-A personality, over-the-top nice and made sure everyone was having a good time. His mom was also at our table and was like an older, funnier, woman version of him. I guess it's custom to make fun of the quiet tables, as if they are not having a good time. This soon turned into a "who can bang on their tables the most and get the most stares"-sort of challenge. We definitely had the most exciting table and it was the most I've laughed in a long time. If this is making no sense to you, I'm sorry, you just had to be there. :(
Half way home at 4am, Mounia decided she wanted her last driving lesson (it's a perfect time because there's no one on the roads). She bought her car several weeks ago, but doesn't know how to drive a manual car, so relied on me to be her driving instructor. This presented some very frustration, but mostly scary, situations. I can't remember how many times she stalled in the middle of a big intersection and couldn't get the car to move. I think I ran out of fingers counting the times of near-death experiences (and this car was made a few decades before the airbag era). As much as I wanted to get home by 4:30am and get a few hours of shut-eye before my final exam, I stopped the car, switched places, and played it cool. "Patience, Patience, Patience" I keep reminding myself.
Of course, I set my alarm only to have turned it off and fallen back asleep. I dont remember doing that, but it's the only thing that could have happened. I woke up frantically at 7:45 (I dont know why... but lhumdullah) quickly put on a shirt grabbed a pen, and jetted out the door. It takes 15 minutes (well, 13min to be exact) to get to school in the morning so I sacrificed the breakfast, the brushing teeth, and the milk and coffee to get to my exam on time. The exam wasn't so bad after all. With language (unlike studying over a list of organic-chemistry terms or something like), you either know it or you don't. It doesn't really matter how much sleep I got or didn't get. I missed a few questions on the test, not because of the sleep that I didn't get the night before, but because of the my competence-level in Arabic. Also on the bright side, the wedding was a much richer experience and more memorable than if I would have stayed at home studying.
Friday was a sad day of goodbyes. Goodbyes to my two professors. Goodbyes to my classmates/"The Family" (all except for AyeKatrina who said something like "have a good life, happy travels" and then walked out the door). And then there was my family, Ahilatee Margrabeeya. I've said plenty of goodbyes in my life, but there are a handful of really meaningful goodbyes that make my hands shake and my heart race as if I were on a caffeine high or about to play a rock concert or something. This one was one of those heart-racing caffeine buzz ones. I'm sure I will see them soon, maybe in a few weeks if I come back to Fes, but this family has taken me in as one of their own. I felt like a son to Mounia, a grandson to grandma, an "older brother" to Oumeima (those were her words), a cousin of Faisal and Medi and Zakariah and Issam, and a nephew of Sana and Sameera. I will miss the laughs, the amazing meals cooked by mama every day, the cockroaches in my bathroom (OK, maybe not), the frustrating yet scary driving lessons with Mounia, the temper tantrums of Medi, the horseplay with Faisal, the Spanish practice and lessons with Oumeima, the Turkish soap operas (Mierna wa Halil), and the smile and high-fives of grandma. The thing with goodbyes is that there is so much anticipation leading up to it, and then... boom. It's over, just like that. This was one of those. Out of the door, I was instantly preoccupied with finding a taxi to get to the train station ASAP. I was about to miss my train.
The next week took me to several cities in Morocco, mostly in the southern part of the country. I took the train to Casablanca where I met up with Laila. She helped me find a store where I took my camera to get fixed. The following day, I met up with some friends from Tangier, Taha and Haitam, as well as Meagan and Brooke (they studied on the The Scholar Ship with Taha and I and are traveling in Morocco for a couple weeks), AJ (traveling with Meagan and Brooke) and Mohssine and Marie (Americans living in Tangier... Mohssine is a Fullbright Scholar and professional drummer/musician doing a project with street children here in Morocco). It was a road trip that has been in the works for a couple months now. Unfortunately, something happened last minute and two other friends from Tangier (Karima and Imane) weren't able to make it on trip. So, it was mostly Americans, and one fellow Canadian (Brooke) who was the butt of all the jokes. With Taha driving one car and Haitam the other, they picked Laila and I up in Casablanca and we headed to Marrakech, where we stayed for two nights. Laila's family had us over for lunch the following day, where I think I ate the biggest lunch in my entire life (I'm not exaggerating). Let's just say that I didn't eat anything until the following afternoon!!! Remember the seafood pastilla at the wedding? Yup, her grandmother made one of those! This was after the assortment of salad and vegetables and tea. I stuffed myself full of pastilla, just as everyone else did. You could tell we were full. We slowed down, unable to eat anymore. That's when I turned to Brooke and said, "Yeah, this is only the first entree." I was half-joking (more like 90%). Then, another entree came... this time, bigger! Even I was surprised! It was the lamb and prunes dish!!!! I don't know how, but I just kept eating. It was so good! It is one of the nicest, most elegant meals that can be made for a guest (remember the hospitality I mentioned in paragraph one... this is a bit of what I'm talking about... Marrakech hospitality). There's no way you can turn that down! I really think I ate 5 pounds of food that day for lunch! I could barely breath! Of course, the meal was followed by a huge plate of fruit and Moroccan sweets and tea.
Next stop was Essaouira, one of my favorite places in Morocco. It's a beautiful white-washed medieval-esque (probably older) beach town. It was where I spent my last night in Morocco last year when I was here. It has this melancholy vibe to it or maybe it's just me being too sentimental. Jimi Hendrix spent a significant amount of time in this area, and it is thought that the ancient castle ruins on the beach a few miles south of the town inspired him to write "Castles Made of Sand". Despite the thousands of tourists packed in the tiny alleys of the medina, Essaouira has this laid-back feel to it and is unlike anywhere else in Morocco. Definitely a gem worth visiting in the summer!
From Essaouira, we traveled south to Agadir. Agadir is a city that I haven't been in Morocco, so I was really excited to go. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a let down. I don't know what my expectations where, but they weren't met. I'm sure with more time spend there, it would have been nicer, but at first glance, it's a bit of a gritty city. There wasn't too much character besides a string of beach resorts. We met one of Taha's friends from his University that lives in Agadir. He was really nice, a great host (not a surprise for Morocco), and showed us around for the two days we were there. He mentioned that Agadir was once best-known for its sex tourism. This got brought up as we were at a table sitting behind two guys from Saudi Arabia, whom he implied that they were here for reasons other than the beach. It didn't make much sense, as Dubai is much closer to Saudi Arabia and its reputation for sex tourism is booming. He told me that it's cheeper here in Morocco than places other places in the gulf like Dubai, so they often come here. A few hours later when we were walking down the boardwalk, I asked him if there were any sheesha cafes. Smoking sheesha (or hookah) is common throughout much of North Africa and the Middle East. He told me that the state (or province) of Agadir has banned sheesha and made smoking sheesha illegal, unlike other regions in Morocco where it's common. I am still mesmerized at the fact that sex tourism thrives in Agadir, but it is illegal to smoke sheesha in a cafe. Get me out of here!!!
We drove 5 hours through the night to Ouarzazate, a town on the east side of the High Atlas Mountains, just opposite from Marrakech. Ouarzazate is well-known for its studios. Big-name Hollywood movies like Gladiator, Alexander, The Mummy, Babel, and many others have been filmed here in Ouarzazate. Other than that, it's not too exciting. After an afternoon spent reading and hanging out, I said my goodbyes to the road trippin' group before bed. Taha took me early the next morning to the bus station so I could catch the morning bus back to Marrakech, while the group continued up to the desert, Ifrane, and back to Tangier. We split because my camera is fixed and waiting for me in Casablanca. I'm taking a few days here in Marrakech to work on my studies for APU and then in a few days, I'll head up to Casablanca, rescue my camera, maybe hit up another wedding and Fes, and then back to Tangier, where I'll be for the majority of the next 4 months. I'm excited for Ramadan, which starts in two weeks, or less, and a chance to finally settle in, for good. No more road trippin' or weekend trips (OK, maybe one or two here and there). It's Tangier for several months. Ramadan, internship, research project, and hopefully some improvement on my Arabic.
If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading my LOOOONG blog entry. It really means a lot that you'd take some time out of your busy day to read this. In an era like today, when almost everything is visual or made into a movie, it makes reading that more uncommon, but much more special. I wish I could reward you with a treat or prize of some sort, like a Moroccan cookie and mint tea, or at least some profound proverb or enlightening epiphany that I've had recently. But I think we're both out of luck. There's a saying in Darija that says, "Your portion is in Paradise". It's said when someone is fasting and you are eating in front of them.... So, I guess I leave by saying that to you... "your gift for reading my very long blog is in Paradise". I don't know what it is, but it's there in Paradise. :) Now go in peace. Ma' Salaama
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