Monday, April 6, 2009
Had a little issue and woke up before my alarm. I changed out of my pajamas, grabbed my notebook, and headed back up to the rooftop terrace. I did some journaling while I watched the city wake up. (That sounds so much more poetic in Spanish, for the record.) The light filtered in and the roosters started crowing, but in general all was still quiet. I saw a guy sitting on the roof having his coffee while looking out over the city like I was. It was really peaceful being up there by myself and enjoying my last morning in Morocco.
I came back down and got ready then we met the other group and hiked to site with ruins of a Spanish mosque. It was quite the hike and I was so sad I didn’t have my camera because the view was amazing. You could see the whole city all blue and white, especially from the minaret. We had breakfast and hung out for quite a while just enjoying the scenery. We climbed back down, got our stuff, then got back on the bus.
We drove to Ceuta but the driver had to let us off at the border since it’s Spanish territory. We got out and walked to customs where I probably had the most shocking experience of the whole trip. The place was packed with people (mostly men) pushing their way through to get their passports stamped at the various windows and cars trying to get by. We went to the window for foreigners which was closed and the next one we tried shut right as we got there even though Rick tried to bribe him. Apparently they used to collect all of our passports, show the Morocco Exchange paperwork, and get them stamped all at once; but recently they’ve requested to see each person individually. It was hot, smelly, dirty, and I felt like I was doing something wrong. One by one we pushed our way to a window (all 35 of us) and got stamped. As soon as a police officer nearby saw what was going on, he directed everyone else near us to step aside and let us through since we were Americans. I felt awful that I got priority over these people just because I was born in a certain place - some of them come every day in hopes that they will be granted permission to pass into European territory. It’s the “European dream” if you will (the whole American dream is definitely a disappearing thing). I could see that corruption is a big problem, and Rick said sometimes police brutality can be an issue. The whole process took about an hour and the guides told us it’s the worst experience they’ve had trying to cross back into Ceuta – they weren’t sure why there were so many people, possibly because of Semana Santa. We zipped through customs, got in taxis, and headed to the port where we jumped on our ferry right away.
The ride back was much quicker – only 35 minutes and we each got something to drink for free. We filled out some paperwork then said goodbye to Ben and Rick. It was sad to really be off African soil, I had such an amazing time there and wish it could’ve been longer. Back in Algeciras we had a few hours to kill before our bus left so I tried to call Mom and Dad then went to an internet café. I had some trouble getting through then they weren’t there L I had an email from Mandy saying that Grandma Peter was in the hospital for her heart. It sounded like everything was ok, but she had to get it shocked! We got on the bus for our 3+ hour ride, then back to Granada. I called Mom and Dad right when I got there and they were trying to call me at the same time but were having some troubles with their calling card. It was SO good to talk to them! Unfortunately I was informed that there was a huge earthquake in Italy that killed 150 people (later 200+ were reported). Why is there always so much drama when we travel?!
We took the 10 back to Palencia then Taylor and I got to meet Julia’s family: Rafa(el), Mundi, Cristina, and Sylvia. They were really sweet but definitely different than what I expected. I guess I’m not sure what I imagined them to be like, but they were different. I will admit that I like Francisco better than Rafa.. Mundi had short, dyed hair and she smoked in the kitchen! Sylvia was sick most of the time but was tall, thin, and really sweet. Cristina was a little ball of fire with short, curly hair. She was all over the place! We didn’t get to spend much time with them since we both had to unpack and repack right away. We had dinner, I took a shower, then had three hours of sleep…
Random thoughts about Morocco that I didn’t fit in anywhere else:
· The oranges were HUGE. Once you peeled them they were normal sized, but the peel was definitely an inch thick
· We drank bottled water the whole time
· Moroccans eat lots of red meat and no pork (obviously Islamic influence) which is more or less opposite of Spain
· According to the Qur’an, men are allowed to have four wives. The historical reasoning is because at the time men of every religion had as many wives as they wanted to Islam was the first to put a limit on the exact number and reduce the mistreatment of women. Five is a holy number in Islam so that’s probably one of the reasons it was chosen. The actual verse in the Qur’an states, (loosely translated, of course) “A man may have four wives if he can love them and support them all equally…which is impossible” So for centuries, and in some places today, men disregarded the second and third parts of the verse and grant themselves the right to have four wives. I suppose it’s up to your each individual’s interpretation but there’s a lot of controversy about it right now. The girls we talked to at DARNA explained that it’s technically legal but now the man must have the consent of his wife. It’s only culturally acceptable to have another wife if your current one is unable to have children or has a terminal illness.
· Morocco is 99.9% Islam but is very tolerant of other religions.
· People seemed very happy and smiley in general. It’s probably partially because I’m a tourist, but I was surprised how different their demeanor is from Andalucians.
· Just 15 years ago Spaniards were still immigrating to Morocco because the country was in such ruins. Throughout history the desired country has alternated between Spain and Morocco numerous times.
· Whiney and Christine’s señora told them when they got back from the trip they had to leave their bags outside until they could be properly cleaned, put their clothes straight into the washing machine, and shower immediately. She said something about bugs in her house and kept telling them how dangerous/dirty Morocco is. Somehow I doubt she’s ever been there so why do people like this think they know what it’s like? Moroccans never did anything to her.
