Encountering a traditional village celebration. 

Roadside kasbah. 

Beautiful mountain river in the High Atlas. 

Roadside photo stop in the High Atlas mountains. 

Countryside in the Middle Atlas mountains. 

Embelleshed interior of a tea salon. 

Intricate engraving and moulding work inside a tea salon. 

Barbary monkeys near Iframe grooming eachother. 

A lute performer (from Egypt) in Casablanca. 

Casablanca traffic. 

Morocco Revisited: Je suis arrivé! (I have arrived!)

I made it to Morocco - it is HOT - and my french is rustier than I imagined!

I would love to use contractions but the keyboards in Morocco are not laid out in qwerty fashion, so while many of the letters are in the same position, I cannot find the apostrophe icon anywhere. The thing I am tripping up on the most is that the M is to the right of the qwerty-placed L space, and there is a comma where the M should be. So you may see Q where A should be and commas for Ms.

As for speaking, since the last time I was here I have become more versed in Spanish and apparently lost some French capabilities. So now instead of speaking right away, I think of what to say and in my mind I have to translate, which to my brain right now means English - Spanish. Then I have to think French, and then say it. The embarrasing part of all of this is that this sequence seems to initiate only once I have opened my mouth. Imagine someone walking up to you to ask a question, but instead, you see an open mouth and can hear no sound except the rusty mental gears trying to crank the language skills back into use. When you finally hear something it is with all of the finesse that a 10-year old could flourish linguistically.

My arrival in Morocco was apparently more amazing than that of my checked luggage. I had an hour layover in Paris, and the flight arrived 20 minutes early. But in true major airport fashion, we taxied on the runway for a good 20 minutes before I boarded a bus to the terminal, and another bus to the terminal I needed to transfer to. Then I got lucky and jumped into the brand new line that formed at the transfer/customs location after which I was able to directly board for the Casablanca flight. But, that boarding went to the ground, to another bus that got stuck in a short traffic jam behind 4 fire trucks busy putting out a luggage cart engine fire.

To make things interesting, I really had to pee just before disembarking the first flight. And, since the flight staff were stingy with the liquids on the flight I was also parched. I managed the thought of not having a bathroom opportunity with the irrational assumption that, since I was so thirsty, it was probably best I retained all liquid that I had. My chances to change some dollars for euros, find a bathroom, and make my once-daily connector flight were zero.

Transit overall was very good - smooth check-in, good flight, great onboard movie selection (I had my choice of indy/foreign flicks), great food, and apparently my luggage had an easier transfer than I did. I was convinced that it would not arrive today, so seeing it on the rotator belt was a very happy reunion moment. Until I later opened it to find my shampoo had exploded in my toiletries bag. That was a first.

Now, off to a good Salon de The (tea); then a recommended spot for pastillas for dinner ith the possibility of catching a small group of traditional musicians in from Marrakech. Gleaned the latter off of the radio, so it will be interesting to see if my comprehension is correct.

One day I may upload a couple of photos, but probably won,t bother with that until I return home. Unless I run out of memory space with the camera.

watch this spqce..........observez cet espace.........

Casablanca to Mecknes

My first 2 nights in Morocco were in Casablanca, not one of my favorite stops. The first day I was pretty useless arriving late in the day after traveling from the US. The taxi driver from the airport, though, was very happy to point out and even pull over to highlight interesting sights on the 40km drive into the city. He noticed I had a camera, so I obliged and took a lot of shots. Unfortunately, they're not that good - and the subject matter was not heart-stopping. But this one I thought was interesting, because of the Casablanca directional sign.

The second day I was equally useless, knocked down (but not out all the way) by a pretty hefty migraine. As soon as I was able, I took the train to Mecknes, in order to visit the Roman ruins of Volubolis the next day.

Mecknes and Volubilis

The photo above was of a friendly boy near the Mecknes medina - when he saw my camera, unbeknownst to me, he began waving frantically. It wasn't until after I'd snapped the photos I wanted that I saw him - outside of the viewfinder. His smile dropped immediately - so I picked the camera back up and asked if I could take his photo. The image above is the result.

Once in Mecknes, I found myself with new friends from the train - Mohammed and Tony. Mohammed lives in New York but comes to Fes once a year to visit family. In this case, he was visiting in timing with his sister's wedding. The wedding occurred the week before, but the reception was the coming weekend. After discussion on the train to Mecknes, I was again faced with what I call Typical Moroccan Agressive Hospitality. That has a negative connotation, but it's not meant to - it's just the best description I can think of for what I've experienced in each of my visits to Morocco.

In each case, I've been fortunate to meet some incredibly hospitable and kind people. Moroccans are very proud of their country, and if you get off the beaten path a bit, often those that you encounter will quiz you on their country. Typically, the commentary begins like this (from the Moroccan):

• Did you know that Morocco was the first country to recognize America's independence after the war? Or that it was the site of the first embassy for the new country?
• Where have you visited?
• What did you like about it? What didn't you like about it?
• Have people been nice to you? Have you enjoyed your visit?
• Where will you go next? I have a (insert relative here) in ____ and here's his/her number. If you call them when you arrive they will show you the best things to see in ____.
• Please come meet my family / have a meal at my house / see my farm.
• I have a relative in (your home country/state).
  
• I hope you enjoy my country.

I tend to think of this as kind of an impromptu quality control over tourism. For example, if you mention that the hassles in Tangier are unbearable to someone in Marrakech, you most likely will get an apology from the Marrakechi on behalf of his countrymen to the North. Even if it is actionless, I find the intent and the genuine hospitality efforts truly unique in the world - on par, almost, of those in Nepal.

At any rate, having now met and conversed with Mohammed, I was invited to his sister's wedding reception. Now if it were my wedding reception, I might take exception to my brother bringing along some foreigner without possibly appropriate attire (or a gift) to my reception. Such is not the case in Morocco, it seems. Tony and Mohammed have known eachother for 5 years, and Tony was traveling with Mohammed to Fes for the wedding. Tony is Spanish, but his mother was Moroccan and his father Spanish - and Jewish. His funny way of letting people know his heritage was to greet them with "Shalom aleikum" - instead of the typical muslim greeting, "salaam aleikam".

We had a few days before the wedding, and were headed to the same hotel in Mecknes, so made an afternoon and night of it before taxi-ing to Volubilis the next day to explore the ruins.

I also had an appointment to keep in Marrakech - my friend Alan, with whom I worked on the Norway project (albeit in Singapore), was flying in for a quick 4 day visit. When I mentioned this to Tony and Mohammed, the immediate response was, "let's go pick him up and bring him to the reception, too!". I figured, why not. I had to get to Marrakech anyway, and having company along the way would be better than not. The price was not much different than taking the train again, but the scenery would be different, and the option to stop for photo opps and breaks was a given. But first, we had a night in Mecknes and explored the roman ruins of Volubilis.

The Mecknes medina wall and plaza at night.

The ruins at Volubilis.
Remains of an old olive press. View of either the capital, the bascilica, or the forum. Each is reputed to have been built on the high point, where this set of ruins were, but aside from maybe four small brief signs posted in the area, there was no other information. Shame on Unesco....


Inscription over the Triumphal Arch.
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