Yesterday I was just talking to a couple friends who spent the first half of their spring break in Amsterdam, and I was trying to explain my adventures in Morocco. I think the best way to explain everything in a nutshell is by saying I did not have a good trip, but I had an amazing experience. Everything was incredibly physically and mentally uncomfortable, difficult, painful, etc. but I learned so much in five days, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
The day we left, we had to be on the bus at 4am, and we traveled ALL day. I had no problem with this because I had only gotten 4 hours of sleep the previous two nights so I slept like a baby for the both bus rides and the ferry ride across the mediterranean. When we got to Fes Friday night, everyone was still so exhausted from being on a bus for 12 hours that they just ate dinner and went to sleep. I did too. The next morning we visited one of the kings palaces and then headed off to the Medina. This is an ancient market place that is still in it's orginal form. I felt like I was taking a step into the past because this vast area of winding, intricate streets and tiny shops is exactly as it has been for the past couple thousand years. There have been some minor changes as they now have some drainage systems and a few shops have electricity, but for the most part, it looks just like it did for the arab traders.
Our first stop in the Medina was a carpet vender's store house. Here they explained to us the process of making a carpet--how the camel wool is dyed by hand with henna, mint, indigo and other herbs, how the women make it into "thread and spin it onto spools' and finally how they weave it into carpets full of complex designs with hiddens meanings in every shape and symbol. After the explanitory part was over, all of the salesmen came out of the crevices and began trying to sell these carpets to the ignorant and unsuspecting Americans. Thankfully, one of my advisors had lived in Morocco; so, when an old man tried to seel me a carpet for 200 Euro, she was kind enough to inform me that it wasn't worth more than 50. The old man was not happy, and after much unsuccessful bartering, he sulked into a corner to smoke a cigarrette and shake his head at me. I was not about to be taken for a 200 Euro ride.
The next stop was an alchemist's shop where we were given many free samples and consequently many people bought things they did not need AT ALL--I did too. The shop was run by a man who had learned everything he knew from his grandfather, and the shop had been passed down for 13 generations. He showed us how Moroccan women use coal powder for eyeliner and poppy's stemen for lipstick. Then he gave us helpful advise in the art of aroma therapy and how to cook with Moroccan spices. Finally, after the big show, he pulled out an archaic type of writing pad and began taking orders. He was clearly used to tourists and was able to make a large commission very easily.
When everyone had finally paid for their D'argan oils and fine Moroccan makeup, we navigated though the busy, confusing streets until we got to the worst smelling place on the planet (probably not, but it was pretty bad). As soon as we entered the leather store the guides began handing out sprigs of mint, and we all began climbing the 5 flights of stairs that lead up to the roof. Before this, I had a very romanticized idea of how leather is made, but, in reality, it is a very unpleasant process. I'm still not completely sure, but I believe that I saw the actual leather factory--where the animals are killed and stripped of their skin, where it's tanned, where it's died... everything. Even though we were all covering our noses and mouths with the mint, the smelll really got to some people, and one girl came very close to vomiting all over me. At that point, it was time to head back downstairs. Inside the five story store, every wall and shelf was lined with leather bags, wallets, and coats of every shape and color imaginable. PETA would have a great time in Morocco.
The last two stops that day were a place where they weave fabric and a place where they make pottery. Both were very interesting. In the "loomery," I expected to find women weaving the fabric, but there were only men working the looms. Oddly, they were very flirtatious. The pottery place was sweet, and I bough my uncle a nifty ashtray. We got to see every step of the pottery making process, and watching the craftsmen made most of us feel as though we failed at life. Interesting how that works out.
The next day we woke up early to mount the bus once again, but this time I was completely awake the whole time, soaking in the diverse landscapes of morocco. It's amazing because I thought it would all look pretty much the same, but there were snowcapped mountains, cedar forests full of monkeys, arid caverns and lush valleys. There were even parts that reminded me of the grand canyon--even though I've never been there. After soaking in the beauty, we finally reached the town where we were forced to leave our comfy charter bus, and we climbed into jeeps ready to cross the desert. This excursion was very exciting, and I'm sure my father would have been terrified if he saw how our little chaufer was driving. It was like we were on a safari going 60 miles an hour through sand dunes at sunset, the wind whipping through our hair while listening to some very authentic arabic music--think Ravi Shankar.
When we reached our camp, I was so happy to find that we were going to be camping out just like the natives... it wasn't at all touristy! The tents were fashioned out of wooden stakes and Berber carpets--the Berbers are the tribe that we lived with for the next three days. That night we all ate dinner, and then a group of us climbed up a sand dune to have a little "jam session." It was so relaxing that another girl and I spontaneously got up and started dancing... dancing under the stars in the desert. That's a good time.
The next morning we woke up early to catch the sunrise, and, sadly, I woke up a little too late and only caugh the tail end of it, but it was still beautiful. After that, we prepared for our camel ride across the desert. This part of the African experience was very fun. My camel was kind of rebellious, and everytime I mounted him he made really loud Chubaka noises, but calmed down after he got to stand up. I'll lend a piece of advice--If you want a good workout, ride a camel. My hips haven't been forced to move so much since I did latin dance exercise tapes, no joke. The Berbers also told me that my camel's real name is wibbly wobbly (also not a joke), but they also called him Michael Jackson. We traversed across sand dunes in our little caravan and eventually reached a massive dune when the Berbers decided that the camels needed a break; so we climbed the dune. This took half an hour. Of course, going down took about five minutes. So after that, we climbed back onto our camels and headed into the nearest town.
In the town, some people bought oranges for the kids, and they were so happy. I had previously bought colored pencils and notepads at a dollar store in Sevilla because one of our advisors told us that the kids liked school supplies more than anything else, and I tried to give the to the little girls who couldn't fight their way to the oranges. It was very difficult--the boys were very aggressive. Next we went to a little hut where a Berber family was selling their jewelry, carpets, pottery, etc. I decided to buy a carpet for my oldest brother because I felt much better giving these people my money... they need it alot more than the people in the city. It was a very interesting experience bartering with a Berber because in their tradition a business transaction is very private. They took every person one at a time into a room and spent alot of time making sure that they showed every option before offering the first price. After the first price was offered I had to reject it and give my counter offer trying hard to be shrewd enought to knock the price down a substantial amount but, at the same time, trying hard not to offend by offering too low. I cut the price in half, and he laughed at me and told his assistand to bring us some mint tea. He proceeded to tell me the story of the carpet (which I will always believe is true because I'm an iealist)--what every symbol and color meant, the grandmother who made it, and why it has significance. I picked a rather simple pattern embroidered with orange and cream silk on brown camel wool. After much talking in spanish, I knocked the price down to two-thirds the original, and we shook hands. While my carpet was being wrapped up, I lit up a cigarette and sipped my mint tea feeling pretty good about my bartering abilities.
Everyone who wanted to made their transactions, and we made our way back to the camp. At this point, I hadn't showered in a couple days so I thought the best thing to do would be to ignore my stench by taking a nap. I was drained from being out in the sun all day so I slept until right before dinner, and there was just enough time for me to get a henna tatoo--clearly, something I've always wanted to do. After dinner, we partied in the desert. Basically, the Berbers brought out their instruments and played for us while we all danced. There was one Berber girl in the whole group, and she really liked me because I kept trying to mimick her moves... they were really good. I'm fairly certain I looked like a total idiot, but it was fun. After the party was over, everyone went to bed, but I decided to stay up and look at the stars. I grabbed my ipod (I love technology) put on some Radiohead and watched the stars from the top of a sand dune near our tents. I saw a shooting star and surge of extreme gratitude flooded my being.
The next two days we basically traveled the reverse route for 12 hours straight until we reached Sevilla.
I'm sure what I've explained here makes it sound like I had a great trip and a great experience, but I want to quickly explain why it I can never call it a great trip. I had a very strong awareness that I was surrounded by extreme poverty. The treatment of women in Arab countries is pretty insane (for example, after 8pm, any woman outside of the home is a prostitute, and there are quite alot). These two things combined made the overall environment very oppressive. It was necessary to be excessively cautious--at one point, two other girls and I saw an arab man take someone's luggage, and the advisors were far away so we had to act quickly, and, basically, it was three American girls agains an Arab man (all the other people in the group just stood there dumbfounded). There was just alot of yelling involved, but it was still kind of frightening. Other than that, I was very dirty and uncomfortable the entire time--I did everything one could possibly have to do in the desert (with no running water), and at the very end of the trip I got really sick. However, it was probably one of the best experiences of my life; I learned so much about so many things, and I don't think I could trade it for the best trip anyone had to offer.
