Friday, April 3, 2009
We left the hostel around 8 and Ben led us to the port. We had a delicious breakfast inside – I had Minute Maid orange juice and a chocolate chip muffin. Looking back, this should’ve been a sign as to how wonderful the food would be throughout the trip… We crossed through customs where I had my passport looked at for the first time since I left the states. The guy even looked at me to double check the picture – amazing! We got on our huge ferry for the 15 km journey across the Strait of Gibraltar. On clear days you can see the coast of Africa from Algeciras (Spain)! The ferry was really nice and we relaxed in the comfy seats while our group leaders piled on the information. We filled out the customs cards, got our packet and itinerary, and learned some key phrases in Derija. (The dialect of Arabic spoken in Morocco, also called “Moroccan Arabic”) When we were done we went to the deck for some cute pictures but it was super windy and going really fast so we rode the rest of the way inside.
A few of us talked with Ben and learned about his life and Moroccan culture. He’s from Connecticut and studied through the Central program 5 years ago – and lived with Sara and Kristin’s señora, actually – so he knew plenty about Granada and what we were going through. He’s been a guide for Morocco Exchange for over two years so considering each trip is only 4 days long, he has had plenty of experience even though I didn’t quite get that vibe the first night. Currently, he lives in Tangier (also spelled Tanger – sorry if I switch back & forth) but is leaving in a couple of months to spend some more time in Colombia and Ecuador working with high school tour groups. He had so much interesting information, tips, and experiences to share with us throughout the trip and I was really thankful to have him with us. Our group was all female so we discussed women’s rights and issues quite a bit. I learned that the third group that left a day after us spent almost the entire time focusing on politics, I’m glad I wasn’t in that group! We all covered basically the same issues but depending on our experiences in Morocco each group took a different twist. Ok, I’m getting ahead of myself here – back to the boat.
When we got off we went through “customs” again (like the airport monitor and beeper gate that you walk through but a play version with only one guard) and went to the parking lot. I didn’t have any astounding first impressions, it really didn’t dawn on me that I was in AFRICA until I saw the signs labeled in Arabic and French. (A strange combination, but they’re the first and second official languages of Morocco). Even then, it didn’t seem like AFRICA. I guess I was imagining the Serengeti with lions or zebras or something but as you’ll later find out – that’s definitely not what I encountered. I also imagined that the people would be black, but I saw fewer black people there than I do in Granada! They actually look a lot like the people from the Andalucia and at one point Ben told us, “where do you think the typical Sevillana (beautiful Spanish flamenco dancer) woman gets her look? (long, wavy dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion) Not from the Reyes Catolicos, that’s for sure!” Morocco and the South of Spain were one empire centuries ago and the Moorish influence is still prominent today, especially in the architecture. Every building we saw was straight out of my Art History book and looked just like the Alhambra. Even inside our host family’s house there were ceramic tiles on the walls and arches with mocárabes. Yep, I’m getting ahead of myself again. Let’s take it back to getting off the ferry.
We met our bus driver and dropped our bags off in the van we would be spending the better part of 4 days in, then went to exchange money. The currency is the Dirham and I got 438DRH for €40, so roughly 10 to one US Dollars. It made my mental math conversion pretty easy, even though I’ll never claim it as a strength of mine. It was weird to get used to the money, it seemed fake at first but by the time we were heading back to Spain, the Euro looked foreign to me! Jumping ahead – in Italy Dad had some American dollars in his wallet and it was the craziest thing, they seemed like Monopoly money or something. They were a weird texture and size and SO green! It might take me a little while to get used to that when I get home…
The whole group piled into the van and headed into Tangier, the biggest city in Morocco (I think?). It’s very multicultural since it’s on the border of Africa and Europe, and I found that most people speak multiple languages. The news is given and written in Classical Arabic (what the Qur’an is written in) so most people will understand, but it’s not spoken in Morocco. In school, students are taught both Dirija and French so if they have a high school degree they will certainly be fluent in both. English is the third most popular language and Spanish the fourth. However, the Berber people (first inhabitants of the land – called “barbarians” by settlers) have three dialects of their language which are nothing alike, or similar to Arabic or French for that matter. In the South of the country, close to the Sahara Desert, the culture, land, people, and language are completely different than the North. During the trip someone explained to me that the North of Morocco and Andalucia are Spanish, while the South of Morocco and the North of Spain are more French. It’s hard to explain, but by the end I could definitely see how that’s true. Wow, I keep getting off on tangents. Hopefully the next entries are better than this one.
Our first stop was an open-air market. The fruit and vegetables were so colorful and fresh – I was glad Ben bought some for us to snack on later. There were stand with spices, flowers, and even a couple of convenience stores with stuff like Pringles and Cola Cao. My favorite stands were the olives (even though I don’t eat them), they were so beautiful! They were piled up into perfect pyramids and the vendors shined them with vinegar. The worst part was definitely the meat section. Brigitte is a vegetarian so thankfully Ben warned the group that they don’t waste ANY part of the animal. We saw vendors slicing, dicing, and hanging everything I’m talking cow tongues, goat heads, brains, I think you get the picture… Well, at least we know it was fresh!
Our next stop was DARNA women’s center. It’s a place where women who have been deserted by their husbands, widowed, etc. can go to learn practical skills needed to get a job and get back on their feet to survive in society. It’s funded by a Spanish NGO and they teach sewing, reading and writing (Arabic and French), cooking, and most likely lots of other things that we didn’t see. We went into a classroom where we talked with three Moroccan students who study English. They were SO interesting and we talked about all kinds of different things ranging from politics, religion, and women’s rights to food, education, and their families. They each had different backgrounds (therefore, native languages!) and experiences which made it even better. I was happy that they were so excited to share with us and answer all of our ignorant questions. We were served a HUGE plate of traditional sweets that were full of sugar. I tried one with powdered sugar and one with a date inside. They were good, especially with the mint tea we had. Moroccans drink this ½ sugar ½ tea mixture all day long – it tasted good but I definitely won’t need any more for a long time. I got my fill of it during the trip!
After our talk, one of the girls gave us a tour of the building where we saw classrooms, workshops, sewing rooms with either the huge looms or sewing machines, and the kitchen. We ate lunch with the three students – couscous! That was probably the only meal I wanted to try since it was the only traditional food I knew of in Morocco and it was the first thing we were served. It kind of reminds me of paella, not just the ingredients, but because it’s something you eat with your family on special days. Here, it’s usually on Fridays because it’s the most holy day of the week and since it’s the weekend, most of the family is home. It had a chicken breast (I tried my best to forget about the market), veggies, garbanzo beans, and something sweet on top. It was also a little spicy, which I found out is typical of Moroccan food – totally different than Spain where they don’t use any spice besides olive oil or the occasional garlic. Don’t get me wrong, I love Julia’s cooking but it was nice to mix things up a bit. During the meal we sort of extended our big group conversation but made it a little more personal since we were in a small group with only one of the students. She talked about how it’s almost impossible for Moroccans to travel out of the country because a) they’re not exactly welcome with open arms into most places in the world and b) getting a passport and ticket out of the country is too expensive for 99% of the people. Hanging out with foreigners and welcoming in tourists is almost like their way of traveling. They get to see different things, hear about other places, etc. I also liked when she tiptoed around the subject of the King. I could tell that she really doesn’t like him or what he’s doing for the country, but of course she didn’t say that. (He’s completely different from his father and is making some serious transformations. Obama’s “change” has nothing on him.) She explained that there’s a verse that says “You shouldn’t speak bad about the Qur’an, the king, or the country” and if you do, there are serious repercussions. For example, one kid put this on his facebook page, substituting “king” for his name, and went to jail for several years! After that, I understood why she was hesitant to say anything concrete about the topic. The other main thing we talked about was religion. She was as interested to learn about our views as we were hers. At one point she asked about the trinity and how God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one and what the difference is between Catholicism and Protestantism. To put these complex ideas, which seem so natural to me, into their simplest form was a lot more difficult than I expected! I definitely realized that I don’t know as much as I thought about Christianity. Believe me, we did our best, but I don’t feel like I gave her a true sense of what it really is. We touched on the fact that the Old Testament is common in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam and she said something that I absolutely loved. “You know, that makes me feel good about my religion, that we all have the same basic beliefs and pray to the same God.” I never really thought about it that way but I’d have to agree. (For the record, Muslims and Jews both believe in Jesus, but they see him as a prophet - not the Savior) After lunch we went through the gift shop and saw the most beautiful pillows, clothes, and tapestry all hand-sewn by the women of DARNA.
We all piled back into the bus and drove along the Atlantic Coast to Asilah, our next stop. After driving for a while, we started to pull off to the side of the road and everyone, a little groggy and disoriented starts shrieking, “CAMELS!” On the ferry when we got our itinerary, we asked Ben if we would be riding camels. (Lots of us know people who have gone on the trip before and the pictures on the website show it.) He got a little defensive and insisted that we wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. They’re not native in the area – they’re brought up from the South near the Sahara for tourists. Well, needless to say, we were definitely surprised J He had it up his sleeve the whole time! Rick’s group was just finishing up, then it was our turn for a fantasy camel ride on the beach of Morocco. The water was sparkling, the sun was shining, and everyone had these big, goofy grins painted on their faces. Between the giggles and squealing, all I could hear was, “Take my picture! Take lots of pictures please!” There were probably 6 camels and one baby who was just a couple of months old. The worst part was getting on and off because they completely straighten their back legs then the front ones, and opposite when they lay down, so it feels like you’re going to slide right off. I definitely would’ve gone flying if Ben wouldn’t have warned us to “hold on tight otherwise you’ll fall on your face…and I’ll laugh at you”. Solid advice, oh trusty tour guide. And for the record, I thought caravans were created by Disney, but it turns out that they really exist! I didn’t see any of them spit which was a little disappointing, but one did drink the other one’s pee so I guess that’s just as noteworthy.
Back in the bus where we enjoyed the fruit from the market on our way to Asilah. When we got there Ben led us through the Jewish quarter first which was painted blue and white. (Blue is the color of Judaism and green is the color of Islam. Not sure why. Also confused why the Moroccan flag is red and green - I’m guessing it’s not for Christmas though.) It reminded me so much of the Albaicín with its narrow streets and cute little balconies lined with flowers. We made our way to a rock pier that jutted out over the Atlantic. It had an awesome view so we sat and enjoyed the scenery and listened to some performers’ music while we tried to take in everything that had happened so far. (Yes, the whole trip was this overwhelming – in a good way). I talked to a guy who came up and simply said, “English?” Obviously we said yes and when he responded by asking, “Are you from London?” I felt so stupid when I had to explain that we were, in fact, not English, but American. Whoops. After that we pit-stopped at a little café to use the bathroom and while we were waiting to get back onto the bus, the owner asked me if I spoke Arabic. I looked helplessly at Ben and he kindly explained to the guy that I most definitely do not. (Taylor taught me quite a few phrases but the only ones I remember are hello, my name is, I’m American, thank you, and eat – more about the last one later. The problem is that they learn classical Arabic so it didn’t help them too much except to read signs) I don’t know what it is about my appearance, but nobody in the world can guess my nationality! I’ve been mistaken for pretty much everything in the world besides Irish and Asian. Even the girl at lunch asked if I was Mexican and Ben asked if my parents were French.
When Ben told us at our first group talk that he was going to “stuff us like a Spanish señora” he was not joking. We got back in the van and on our way to Rabat, we had more fruit and he whipped out a 20 pound bag of trail mix. The countryside was so beautiful, and not at all what I expected - rolling hills full of farms and pottery stands alongside the road. We got to Rabat, the capital city, and went straight to a building where we met out host families for the next two nights. We got to split ourselves up into groups of three then he assigned us to the families who were waiting for us. I stayed with Taylor and Brigitte and it turns out that the building we were in was our host family’s house! I was surprised because the middle was more or less a tiled courtyard with just the frame of a roof above the three floors. There were three long rectangular rooms around the outside which had gorgeous long couches with pillows. The other wall was the entryway which led to the bathroom and the kitchen which led to sink/shower. Nobody gets their own room with a lock and door, we just moved the pillows aside, put down sheets, and slept on the couches. The decoration was so pretty, it’s hard to describe but it was totally different than our piso in Granada. There were a couple of tv’s, a western toilet and no bidet, and lots of open space. Whenever you enter a room, you have to take your shoes off, which is why they wear slippers from room to room. I forgot a couple of times and got either a funny look or pointed at. Janelle, Jessica, and Brittney lived above us on the second floor so they could look down into the “courtyard” for lack of a better word, where our dining room table was. The family consisted of a mom, dad, older son, 18-year-old daughter named Zineb, 4-year-old daughter named Aya, and their cousin Chefia. He spoke really good English so he sat and talked to us with Zineb (who also speaks pretty good English) while Aya provided the entertainment. I later learned that Zineb really likes Spanish and wants to be a journalist someday. She would also love to travel to Spain but probably will never get the chance. It was very awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do or what to talk about so I was glad Aya was the icebreaker. She had a notebook and we found out that was learning to write her letters and numbers. I quizzed her/taught her some more. The whole family was so nice and welcoming to us, even if they do this all the time I felt like their culture is so much inviting than Spain. We had dinner and I was happy to see we were doing it the traditional way – eating with your hands (actually hand, as in singular – specifically the right hand because the left is for “cleaning” aka wiping) We had meatballs, bread, macaroni noodles with red sauce, and Moroccan sweets similar to what we had during tea. Luckily they gave us forks for the pasta because that could’ve been messy! Taylor wasn’t feeling so hot and Brigitte wasn’t super hungry and is a vegetarian so we didn’t make a dent in the huge family style plate in the middle of the table! After dinner we sat around talking some more and Chefia asked if we wanted to go out. We weren’t totally convinced since it was pretty late and we’d had a pretty overwhelming day, but we agreed as long as we wouldn’t be gone too long. We later found out that he thought we were lazy since we agreed to go but he had to ask us three times if we were ready. I guess we’re turning into Spaniards! He said his parents were laughing because they knew he was waiting for us but we were just sitting there. Wow, 15 km separates Spain from Morocco but they could not be more different in that aspect. Anyway, we headed to his American friend’s apartment which was not somewhere I’d like to go again. We sat while they chain smoked and his friend enjoyed a little too much wine. We kindly turned down offers on both and their look of surprise probably matched ours. (Smoking isn’t accepted and drinking is completely against Islam so to find both on our first night in Morocco which is 99.9% Islam was a shock.) We finally left and thankfully met up with the girls who live above us and their host brother and jumped into some taxis. We didn’t have any nice clothes to wear so we were pretty disgusting and when we showed up at the discoteca, he was probably embarrassed that we were so scrubby. Once again, a nightclub, especially one named “Privilege” was not what I was expecting to find on my first night in Africa. We looked so out of place but had a good time anyway. There wasn’t a cover but we had to buy a drink. I laughed when I saw how many non-alcoholic drinks there were. I ordered a “PussyCat”, which also made me laugh and think of The Replacements. It was supposedly a smoothie but I’m gonna call it a mix of pineapple and some citrus fruit. Either way, it was good and I was glad I didn’t have to drink the glow-in-the dark cocktail they gave all the girls. His crazy American friend took care of that one for me – thanks creepy dude. When we got there the music was pretty good but by the time we went out to the dance floor, it was full-blown techno. Ughh. I thought it was just this horrible phase that was happening in Europe but I guess it’s more widespread than I imagined. Seriously, how are you supposed to dance to that? Cheffie had some pretty sweet moves, though. We did some sort of circle action for a while where one person goes to the center and busts a move then it’s someone else’s turn. Oh, boy. I need to take a time out and give some more background on this Chefia character real quick. First, I could NOT remember/pronounce his name. I usually called him Zafir and at one point I think I referred to him as Jafar. Aka, nothing that resembled his real or nickname. Second, I think he got some sort of commission for taking us to that club. Tons of vendors make offers like that to tour guides and since he has so many students come stay with him, I wouldn’t be surprised. Third, he knows EVERYONE. No matter where we went, day or night, he would stop and talk to 2/3 people we passed on the street. It was unbelievable. I didn’t believe his weird American friend when he was like a surfing God but apparently it was true. Which brings me to number four – he’s one of top 3 or 4 surfers in the region. I guess the waves are world-renowned and are comparable to those in California and Hawaii because of the open ocean to the east. Who knew? As a job he’s a surf instructor but he just got a good job somewhere else so he’ll be moving in a few months but hopes to come back after a few years. Imagine a famed multilingual Moroccan rebel with braces and a surfer dude attitude. An odd mix, to say the least. Back to the discoteca – we were dancing and having a good time but I needed a break. Long story short, I fell asleep with my head in my hands. Wow. We finally left around 1:45 even though he promised we’d be back “in a couple of hours”. Overall, it was an amazing day but exhausting! Especially considering the fact that we went through a two hour time change..
