SAFE AT HOME

You can now view a YouTube slideshow of the trip here.

My Flickr photo gallery of Morocco can be seen here.

It has taken a couple of weeks since arriving home to conclude the circle of this blog. I am feeling back to normal and have a fair amount of energy and a good appetite again for the fist time in a while. Now I am able to better reflect on the wonders of Morocco. We experienced perfect weather, kind and generous people, colorful scenes, changing landscapes, enterprising folks always ready to laugh. We drove hundreds of miles through a variety of geological features passing donkey carts and camels, and being passed by what Cindy calls the pit bulls of the road - the Grand Taxis - cream colored old Mercedes full of people going from city to city. We wheeled over curving roads with thousand foot drops and through narrowing streets filling with schoolchildren, bicycles, scooters and people carrying ungodly, awkward loads. The medinas full of colors and bustle and smells and a variety of merchandise. Men in striped long, hooded jellabas and veiled women on their way through the crowded street. The call to prayer ringing out five times a day. Men bowing in prayer in shops, on street corners and most commonly in the mosques. The street food and the fresh squeezed orange juice. Men always ready to show you the way or to guide you.
On the last morning we left our riad at 5am while it was still dark headed for the airport, and almost immediately proceeded to get lost in the Sale medina. Soon we were at a dead end where we turned around only to find ourselves now blocked in by a truck which was stuck while maneuvering its way out of a side street parking space. We were then unable to move and becoming concerned about getting to the airport on time. Eventually we approached one of the men guiding the truck from its space. Somehow my French prevailed in explaining our predicament and not long thereafter the man was leading us out of the medina and out of town towards the airport.
It does seem to be true that eventually we find a way to get where we need to be but while in the midst of difficulty we do not usually have much of a clear perspective. In strange places our scenarios more easily take on the weight of basic survival. There is no way of knowing how we will be able to handle it when something really bad happens. On this trip there were many close encounters with disaster but none which came to that dastardly fruition. Near misses. And so it was that upon our return I was initially in a state of shock, traumatized by the reverberations of a collective series of what-ifs and the brain numbing consequences that form in the emotional center of the brain. I found myself reviewing the near-disasters, re-playing the long hours of driving and getting lost and believing that we would be driving in the never-ending circular inferno burning within my own head.
Yes, it took some time to let that go and realize how lucky we were to have survived unharmed with that old adage in place that the most difficult situations make for the best stories afterwards.

IN THE BLUE CITY

Chefchaouen is our last real stop in Morocco. Three nights here before we set off back to Rabat-Sale and our flight home. We are feeling rather travel weary at this point and Chaouen is a good place to relax and let ourselves be mellow. It is a sweet town with a population of 40,000 and an old medina that is casual and hassle free. The turrets of the old Kasbah overlook the main square and the city is molded into the side of a hill, which in turn is guarded by the mighty Rif Mountains; this mountain range stretches all the way North to the Mediterranean. The streets of the medina are predominantly washed in a blue paint. We are reminded of Jodhpur, a similarly blue-painted city in India. In both places the reason offered for the azure tint is that it keeps mosquitoes away…so far, so good! Tuesday was spent resting and recovering, today is for exploring Chefchaouen, Thursday we will be driving back to Rabat, and then Friday we fly back to Chicago.

Chefchaouen is the kind of town that you can easily relax in. It feels more like home. The people remind us that there is no purpose in hurrying; that time spent in the moment is more fully appreciated. People have kind faces creased by the mountain air and from working in the fields. The steep hills build strong legs and with age bodies that seem to lean forward into the steps and slopes ahead. The narrow streets offer some shade at all but the sun’s apex.

The Streets Of The Blue City of Chefchaouen

NORTHWARD TO CHEFCHAOUEN

My memories of Fez from forty-odd years ago somehow did not live up to my present day experience. I recall everyday people in the streets, tiled surprises around every corner, empty palaces that I could wander around, the color and smells are still vivid. Streets that had baffled in their exciting and unexpected twists and turns now just caused confusion and claustrophobia. Even the tanneries – so rich in visual and olfactory memories failed to stimulate my wizened senses this time. It was lovely to return to our peaceful riad each time to relax after fighting the hoards of tourist groups clamoring to photograph a fountain or blocking the view at the gateway of a mosque.

Upon leaving our riad we requested a wheeled cart or “little chariot” that is filled with our luggage and pulled by a local youth to our car. On this occasion as we exited the main door of our riad we were greeted by a donkey. Our bags were roped on top and off we went.

We drove out of Fez with the usual “Don’t worry it is easy” directions towards Chefchaouen. Of course we got miserably lost leaving the city and surreptitiously the road that led us East to Meknes then led us to the delightful holy city of Moulay Idriss, which we would otherwise have missed. 

Moulay Idriss

Also we came across a rural area market which afforded us the opportunity to sample local delights and the friendly hospitality of those who are perhaps less jaded by city life. When purchasing a loaf of delicious bread for two dhirams (25cents), I accidently gave the seller three dhirams and he was quick to return the extra coin.

And, as usual, a three hour journey took seven hours as wound our way up into the foothills of the Rif Mountains rising through steep inclines to Chefchaouen, the blue city of Morocco. Chefchaouen medina is much quieter and more relaxed than the bigger cities that we had so far visited. We are able to wander through the small blue painted streets without being hassled and cajoled into every shop that we pass.

Chefchauoen

FACE TO FACE WITH FEZ

The lifeblood of the old city of Fez is the medina, the marketplace. It consists of over 9000 streets divided into over 300 districts each with a mosque, a school and a fountain. The narrow streets are lined with shops and craftspeople making their wares. These areas are separated into souks representing individual artisanal groups – the leather souk, the copper souk, the dyeing souk, etc. The medina is overcrowded with groups of tourists and inhabited by ordinary people whose lives are then adjusted by the need to cater to the crowds of bargain hungry foreigners. The competition is fierce and the shopkeepers savvy.

The first day in Fez was Friday, a weekend in the medina and the streets were far less crowded as many of the shops were closed. We took this time to visit the mellah, or Jewish district, which is only a shadow of its former glory. The synagogue is under a slow restoration after years of dilapidation.

The Synagogue in the Fez Mellah

Colorful Water Carrier

We made our way through some delightful gardens where we came across some musicians at an impromptu music festival. Wonderful vocal harmonies abounded over violin, lute, hand drums, percussive clapping and occasional horns.

On our second day we joined a group of three American faculty from the Semester at Sea program for a tour with a local guide. We visited the medersa, the wood museum, the tanneries, and carpet, embroidery, and leather shops. Our gentle guide was the first female official guide in Fez having started 24 years ago. We also enjoyed a lovely lunch together. Dinner that night at the riad was spectacular.

El-Attarine Medersa

 

The Tanneries

Today, the physical and emotional travails of relentless travel finally caught up with me. I am feeling overwhelmed from my forlorn attempts to deal with the demands and responsibilities of being in a strange country, taking care of all the details, the language, the images, the photos, the blog, the incessant requests from people trying to sell something, the driving on crazy roads, getting lost daily, wrong directions, changing money, staying safe, remembering where I put things, being nice to people, trying to remain polite, being culturally competent and not offending people when taking photographs, sidestepping hoards of tourists, processing images and interpersonal interactions,trying to avoid onrushing carts of junk being aimed at me by angry workmen in narrow alleyways.

I am missing the quietude of solitude. So today I am trying to regain a balance and I am failing miserably.

FACING FEZ

Fez from the rooftop of our riad, Dar Seffarine 

Our “six hour” drive from Merzouga to Fez ended up taking ten hours.  Long spells spent behind slow moving overloaded trucks, and military vehicles, and extended periods meandering on twisting roads slowed us down; given that we made a late start to our day, our desire to not have to drive in Morocco in the dark was quickly becoming compromised. We drove with our Swiss friend Marcel and were particularly amused by a fifty kilometer stretch where dogs laid by the side of the road watching the traffic. It seemed that they were positioned at regular 100 meter intervals like road mileage markers. We found out later that drivers sometimes throw these dogs some bread at late afternoon and the dogs gather in hopes of a leavened treat.

It had indeed become dark by the time we arrived at the outskirts of Fez. We were uncertain about directions and were following our noses a bit when a motorcycle pulled up next to us and inquired where we were headed. Hassan then led us through some treacherous urban traffic to our designated parking spot. We were uncertain about the legitimacy of our guide and even our location. Nevertheless we were assisted with parking our car then a cart was loaded with our gear and we were led through a maze of dark sinister streets with shadowy men warning us “Be careful Ali Baba.”  At a dead end of a series of unlit alleyways we were left at a black studded door, which somehow was our correct destination - the Dar Seffarine riad. Inside we were warmly greeted, reassured, and served mint tea inside the courtyard of a palatial haven of rest. I slept well.

The courtyard at Dar Seffarine

MINT TEA

One of the more delightful ways to take a break from the bustling streets of the city is to partake in mint tea. This delicious sweet green tea infused with mint is flavorful, aromatic, and refreshing. As in many other cultures, tea drinking is raised to the sanctity of a ritual in Morocco. Tea is often served from a silver pot and is poured in a stream from a height into a small glass cup filled with mint leaves. Tea is served as a greeting, for refreshment, to seal a deal, or just to provide a little energy. In Arab cultures mint tea is also known as Touareg tea, and in Morocco it is whimsically referred to as Berber Whiskey.