The Camel Market

There's a small section in Casablanca called the haboos (I have no idea what this means), and within this section of the city there's a camel market. Buyers don't purchase camels --they purchase camel meat! You walk up to a vendor, ask for camel meat prepared in any number of ways, and then you carry it to a nearby restaurant where they grill it for you on skewers (they call meat prepared in this way "broschettes").

We went with some friends our age to this market today, and they took us to a vendor they trust. We'll leave out pictures that may unsettle the stomachs of the squeamish (you pansies!!!), but if you're feeling really frisky when we get back we can show you the camel heads and such.




Here's the final product. It actually doesn't taste all that different from seasoned beef --we really enjoyed it with grilled tomatoes, onions, and some mint tea. You're supposed to either stuff the meat and veggies in bread or just pick it up with pinched-off sections of hobbz (arabic for bread). This was a great experience and we had really good conversation. However, we just ate all of this food this morning, so we'll see how our stomachs feel over the next few days.

Assilah, a breathe of fresh air

A few posts ago I mentioned that we drove up to Tangier (starting at 2am on Saturday morning). We dropped off a few friends who were catching a boat across to Spain (flights out of Gibralter are cheaper, so this was a less expensive but time-consuming way for them to travel). On our way back we stopped outside of Tangier at a place known as the Grotte de Hercules, which is an ancient quasi-cave in the side of the coast of the Mediterranean where Hercules lived for a time. As a matter of fact, ancient mythologies claim that Hercules founded the city of Tangier. We've read about this place in classical mythology and history books, so it was great to get to see it.

This is a picture we took looking out of the cave and into the sea. Notice that the rock in the bottom left of the mouth of the cave is shaped like a sitting man--hence, the stories about Hercules resting and living in this grotto (also spelled grotte and grottes...not goatee). It's pretty amazing to think that water and sand has largely shaped this place in such beautiful ways.



On our drive out of Tangier (we were driving back through Rabat and then on to Casablanca) we stopped in a small seaside village named Assilah (my spelling is questionable). This is the perfect little place for an inexpensive and low-key vacation, if anyone is in the market. Assilah is known primarily for its art, which decorates many of its walls. Because of the heavy Spanish influence, the village also has an easy-going, almost lazy feel (in a relaxing kind of way).



Also, while we were in Assilah we inadvertently came across the staircase to heaven. I tried to enter but some guy with a long white beard and a white robe wouldn't let me in. It was really strange. Oh well.


For the remainder of our time in Morocco we'll be living in the apartment of some friends who are out of the country. Compared to our living situations the past month, this next place seems regal. It's a three bedroom, two-and-a-half bath place in a typical neighborhood. Our hope is that we can live in this neighborhood, make friends, learn to survive, and learn more about who we are and what we want to do with our lives.

Rabat in a Nutshell

Rabat houses the capital of Morocco, and it is also the city where the king spends the majority of his time (I'm referring to Mohammed VI, the king of Morocco...not Elvis). This country has the longest monarchy still in rule. Of course, Morocco was a colony of Portugal, Spain, and then France, but each of these countries allowed the sultan to rule nominally. After independence from France, the country asked the sultan to return from exile and he became the 'Malak' (arabic for 'king'). This first Malak was the grand-father of the present king.

The medina in Rabat is significantly smaller than the medina in many other cities. However, vendors hassled us a lot less and the prices were significantly cheaper, so we bought one or two small things as souvenirs. But while we were walking through the medina and visiting shopkeepers, we stumbled across this archway and stretch of trek:


This alleyway is now lined with shops selling rugs and teapots. A few hundred years ago, however, this was the part of the medina where slaves could be bought and sold. I was told that Christians were primarily sold in this section--particularly those people captured by pirates and during battles. I haven't read about this anywhere, so I'm basing this solely on one conversation. Regardless, the history between this country and Europe is long and very difficult. It's impossible for someone to walk into this part of the world without carrying the baggage of hundreds of years of a precarious and often violent relationship between all of our ancestors. Even though I'm individually not responsible for colonizing Morocco in the eighteenth or nineteenth century, and even though the Moroccans living today did not sell me into slavery, something about our mutual history refuses to go away. Apologies or tritely dismissing the past simply doesn't solve the problems created by this relationship. Something needs to be healed. And I imagine that even as the wounds took generations to create, healing will also be the work of generations.

Fez

After our two weeks at the home-stay in Marrakech, we spent this past week in two different cities. We went to a city called Fez from Monday through Wednesday; then we spent Wednesday night through Saturday in Morocco's capital, Rabat. On Saturday morning (at 2am!) we left the city with some friends and drove to Tangier, which is accross from Gibralter and Spain (but more on this another time).

Even though we only spent a few days there, Fez has probabaly been our favorite city so far. Many people call it the theological center for Islam in this part of the world, and the oldest university in the world is also located in this city. It is connected to the Kouraine mosque in the old medina. Before either Cambridge or Oxford was a twinkle in the eye of European intelligensia, the Kouraine University was a center for learning in the ancient world. Many claim (and they make a pretty good argument) that the concept of zero (the number...not my social status) was developed here. European scholars later appropriated this concept, and it has become fully integrated into Western Civilization (our bank account is proof!). This is a great example of the richness of this culture, despite the misconceptions we sometimes have in America about this part of the world.

Here are a few pictures at this university. We could only take pictures of the exterior; a few signs in Arabic and French said something (we think) about students only being allowed to enter the library, but I did get a peek and then drooled for a little while afterwards. Their library supposedly even has a copy of John from the 3rd or 4th century.

The door behind us in the picture above seemed extremely imposing and ominous yet nonetheless beautiful. We were a little intimdated, but I (Ben) walked up the stairs to see if I could enter the university. I didn't know if there would be a guard to ask for some secret password or if I would be outright turned away. But when I got to the top I found that this door actually leads to a cafeteria...and I was embarrassed. The entrance to the library/university is through a small door to our left in the picture (which you can't see). The picture below is the last point at which tourists can take photos.



In Fez we also met up with a married couple who live and serve in this city. We spent time with them and asked lots of questions (which has been the way we spend the majority of our time). Primarily, however, we intended for our time in Fez to be a vacation (a much needed one!), so we spent some time at our hotel in the pool. (You may be thinking, "It sounds like this entire trip has been a vacation," but we assure you that it has not. We've definitely been stretched, and we've learned a lot. We apologize if we're vague and don't talk about certain things on this blog.) The pool at the hotel was a little awkward, however, because there were mostly retired (i.e., old...very old) Europeans sunbathing. Ashley wanted to post photos of this but I told her it would be completely inappropriate.

Here are a few other pics from the old medina in Fez. Notice the narrowness of the streets and how most things take place out in the open (shops and shopkeepers spill over into the already close-quarters of the alleys and roads):


This picture overlooks a tannery where leather, mainly sheep and camel skin, is dried and dyed. The tanneries smell horrendous, and it's one of the dirtiest processes imaginable. We're only including 'acceptable' (i.e., non-disgusting) photos. Here are some sheep skins drying, and the second photo is of a man in one of the vats dying the leather:



Here's a few last pics that give a glimpse of this beautiful city.

The Nectar of Life

We would like to introduce to you "qhwa nus-nus" (half-coffee, half-milk). This has been a daily sacrament for us, a means of receiving life and grace. We just thought you might be interested in learning about our daily dietary habits, so here's a little introductory note on the main staple of our days here.

Notice the three distinct layers: foamy milk, a dark area in the middle that I like to call the dividing wall, and then rich and full coffee. This is, as a matter of fact, the land flowing with milk and coffee. Sitting at a cafe for hours is pretty customary for most men (not women) in this culture. When we're not studying, learning, or meeting with folks, we ocassionally hang out around the cafes and meet folks or observe the bustle of life passing in front of us.

Toubkal

After a week and a half of living with a Moroccan family in Marrakech, some folks living in this country invited us on a little 'vacation'. Toubkal (pronounced tube-call) is the third highest mountain in Africa, and the tallest in the northern part of the continent. This peak is 14,000 feet high, and it is a part of the High Atlas mountains. Our friends' idea of a 'vacation' was to climb this sucker!


It took us three full days. We started at a small nearby village and hiked up to the "Refuge", a hotel-like place at the base of the peak about 10,000 feet up (day one). Then we hiked/climbed to the peak and back to the Refuge (day two). Finally, we limped and walked slowly back down to our starting point (day three). It was absolutely exhausting, but now we can say we've climbed a serious mountain. One climber we talked with said that climbing Toubkal was harder for him than the two marathons he had run. I don't know if this is true because neither of us have run marathons, but it was definitely one of the most difficult experiences of each of our lives.

We just got back on Wednesday night from this 'vacation', and we have several great stories and beautiful pictures. Here's just a few:





Although we had never heard of a thing called 'altitude sickness', we got a first-hand experience and can testify to its existence. Ashley got sick at 10,000 feet (we'll spare you the details), and I got sick on my way back down from the peak. This sickness manifests itself in a variety of ways, and it affects each person differently. As soon as you descend to a semi-normal altitude, however, you feel much better.


This was such a unique and fun experience. We had a great time with the folks we went with, and we had several great conversations. But most of all, we were privy to a remote and beautiful part of creation.

Touring Marrakech

In Marrakech we've been more 'tourist' than 'student'. Instead of staying inside all day, we've gone walking throughout this fascinating and beautiful city. Usually, this has involved us getting lost...very lost. But this is half the fun. Not only are we getting to know the city much better, but we're also learning how to be independent in this world that's so different from our own and we're finding 'new' and fun things.

Some times we set out looking for particular places and experiences recommended to us by Lonely Planet (a traveling book that is a 'must-have' for first-time tourists). One time we ended up looking for one of the King's Palaces, which he rarely uses. After 3 1/2 hours of looking, we finally found this palace (it turned out to be only a 45 minute walk from where we're staying). Once we finally arrived, we walked through six or seven gates and finally found a tall door. Then, behind the tall door, there was a man behind a curtain who is the wizard of this crazy land...just kidding. Actually, we weren't allowed to see the palace, and when we tried to take a picture of the door, these guards almost arrested us!



It was a crazy and frustrating experience. We also spent some time around the Koutabia Mosque, which is the largest in Marrakech. It has a large and beautiful courtyard on the opposite side from where we took this photo.



Another day, we visited an ancient palace used in the sixteenth century. It is beautiful and ornate.







This is another palace we visited. It was used by a sultan several centuries ago, but now it's haunted by some freaky birds of prey.

Henna...sort of

Henna is a fashion style in many non-Western countries. Particularly in Africa, henna is used to decorate brides' hands and feet before weddings. Many women get henna just as a status/beauty symbol. Ashley has had henna put on her hands and feet several times in other countries, and so she was excited to have it done here in Morocco.

Our host mother, Mamma Jamilla, one day offered (or strongly suggested) to put henna on Ashley's hands. Here are some photos:


A day or two later, however, we were walking through the Djemma el-Fina, which is the "Mother of all markets" located in Marrakech. Vendors, "salesmen", snake charmers, and faux guides fill the huge courtyard in front of the market area. While we were observing this chaos, the Djemma's overload on the senses, and the bustle of everything going on, a lady came up to Ashley and offered to put henna on her hands. Ashley said (in Arabic), "No thank you, I already have henna." And after a short conversation where the lady insisted Ashley needed more henna, she offered to do a small flower on Ashley's palm for free. This was the result:



This turned out to be a learning experience for us, however, because after this lady finished the "small flower" on Ashley's palm, she said, "You pay me whatever you want. This is just for luck." After we disagreed politely for a bit (because, again, she said that this was 'just for free'), the 'henna-lady' began to get extremely angry and insisted that we pay her something. She said normally this design was 250 dirham (about $32). Of course, she was lying...it would normally be worth 30 dirham, if even that much. But I (Ben) refused to pay (mainly because I didn't feel like getting exploited that day). Eventually, we gave her the 5 dirham we were planning on using for fresh-squeezed orange juice (which is so good on a hot day in Marrakech).

After this exchange, we went home later that night to our host home. We told our host mother about this 'henna-lady', and (get this!) she told us that the 'henna' design on Ashley's palm isn't even henna. It's hair dye! That's right, hair dye. For tourists, henna ladies often use watered down hair dye because it's cheaper and initially looks like henna. We definitely learned a little bit more about being a shrewd guest in another country -- and also about the fact that we need to be overly courteous hosts to foreigners in our country.

A Street in Marrakech

So, we're living with a Moroccan family, and it has been a great experience so far. We moved in on Monday night (June 1), and I think we're staying for two weeks (until Sunday June, 14th). We're living with these folks for two reasons: (1) to learn Moroccan Arabic a bit better and (2) to live within this country's culture and understand what day-in and day-out life is like for everyday Moroccans. We're definitely getting a lot better at speaking and listening. I (Ben) ordered 1 litre of Pepsi, two Cokes, and a chocolate bar today...all by myself. Of course, I've made a fool of myself so many times: I called myself a donkey, told someone I had a husband, misordered at restaurants, and called my host-mother Stephen Segal (no joke).

But all of this is beside the point (sort of). The home we're staying in is located in the part of Marrakech called the old medina (old city). It's where a large part of lower-middle-class Moroccans live, and it's very much a non-tourist place.

There are three daughters (one is married and no longer in the house) and one son in the family. The mother's name is Jamilla and the father's name is Abdellatiff. This is the youngest daughter, Ikram. (She knows how cute she is.)



This is Mamma Jamilla. We're sitting in the living room, which is covered in beautiful blue ceramic tiles. She is very kind.

Here's a view from the roof.


In case you were wondering about our exact living situation, it's not so much like this...


But, this picture does hang over our heads and promise us (or maybe tempt us with) more comfortable days. When we're lonely, we also know that we have a very good friend: a sheen picture of Daffy Duck also hangs on the wall. Here is our room:


Ashley took this picture from the door. We have a table (to the left) and two mattresses (sort of). Lunch is the big meal of the day, and our family serves it between 2:30 and 3:30pm everyday. Dinner is usually at 9:30pm or 10:00pm.

Living in Marrakech

We're now living in Marrakech with a Moroccan family. It's been a good experience, but we haven't had internet so that's why we haven't posted in a while. We'll give a longer update soon about the family and this beautiful city.