Play It Again, Sam

Ah, Morocco. Romantic, isn't it? Sandy beaches, colorful Berbers navigating the desert with their camel companions, and sandstone mountains rising from dry river valleys.

Well, it could be romantic, but of the six countries I've been to this year so far, Morocco has been my least favorite. Okay, six if you include the 45 minute layover in Switzerland, which I do, so I've finally reached a second hand with an overly aggressive, extremely hot, and very disheartening land. That being said, I've really enjoyed my time in the all too often heard of land made famous by the titular film of our port city.

Frankly, what I've been doing here is more important than what I've been doing on the ship, though I have been having a great time and learning a lot from all my new friends and classes. I'll write more on all that later, but for now, MOROCCO!

Six A.M. Friday morning, I awoke in a haze of very little sleep to watch our entry into Casablanca. As I expected, many people were already awake and chattering about on the 7th Deck at the front of the ship. Land was already in sight, including the beautiful Hasan II Mosque. Finally seeing land after several days of blue, blue ocean was refreshing and extremely exciting. Birds were flying above us, other ships were passing by, and the air started to taste less salty. Nerves set in, but they were more exciting than anything else. I didn't even mind how painfully tired I was from the lack of sleep. Speaking of lack of sleep, while it's easy to fall asleep on the ship, half the time I don't want to so I can keep hanging out with people. Anyway, the entire approach to land took longer than we all thought it would, so I didn't stay out all the way to the end, which I'm fine with; there's plenty more countries to stay outside all the way to port for. After enjoying the entry, I grabbed some breakfast, changed, and listened to the diplomatic briefing. Once that was finished, I hopped on the bus to head into the city. 

New friends :) Ali, me, Nikki, Nick, Ryan

To be honest, Casablanca smells rather putrid. Somebody described it as "dead fish covered in urine," and unfortunately, I'd have to agree. Why they chose it as our port is sort of beyond me, but I suppose we have to start somewhere—the culture shock and discomfort is only going to get more difficult as we go on. We toured around the city, stepping off the bus from time to time to explore the markets, alleyways, and other areas. Some parts did smell better than others, specifically the areas with food, but overall, it wasn't very pleasant on the nostrils. The best part of our tour was when we visited the Hasan II Mosque. With the largest religious minaret in the world, it's wickedly tall. I believe it took somewhere around six years to build the whole thing, and it is enormous. It almost feels like a compound. Just the outside is beautiful and astounding, but the inside is beyond words. The detail in the architecture is mesmerizing; truthfully, I could spend an entire day just staring at the windows, walls, and little crevices and corners. Below the main level of the mosque were a bunch of fountains. In order to pray in a mosque, you have to be clean—washed hands, face, and fresh clothing. Islam is super interesting, especially in terms of its traditions, and going to the mosque only broadened my interest in the religion. On a related note, Islam is a beautiful religion. The devotion to Allah, prayer, and tradition is like nothing I've ever experienced. At its core, it's a very peaceful and harmonious religion—I'm truly appalled by the ignorance of Islamophobia now. Muslim people are quite welcoming and understanding.

After our city orientation came to a close, it was time to take the train to Marakkech. I ventured over there with my friends Ali, Nikki, Kevin, Farrah, Jimmy, Julie, and Veronica, so it we had to split our cabs. The Moroccan countryside is a lot different than I expected; it's not all sandy and desert-y, though that does certainly make up a portion of it. I spent most of the ride either sleeping, reading, writing, looking out the window, or talking with my friends. Actually, I spent the entire ride doing that, because there wasn't much else to do. Upon reaching the city, we took a cab to our hotel. Funny thing about cabs in Morocco: many of them don't have meters, so you have to bargain the price down usually [sidenote: it isn't funny at all; it's annoying and frustrating and cab drivers are usually rude men]. We found two cabs and made our way to the main square. SO MANY PEOPLE. EVERYWHERE. And it doesn't make things easier that it's crowded, people are shouting at you to buy their crappy stuff, and there's a new smell or thing to see every five feet. That being said, it's totally unlike anything I've ever experienced. After being guided through a winding narrow alleyway, fearing we were going to be kidnapped in the style of Taken, we found our hotel. The entrance didn't look like anything spectacular, but there was a really pretty courtyard and rooftop terrace, the top of which looked out over the entire square. Almost immediately upon wondering up there, the call to prayer rang out over the city. Like I mentioned before, I'm fascinated by Islam, but this really amazed me. Actually hearing their devotion to Allah and seeing them move towards the mosques in the city and bow and pray was truly a beautiful moment. We were all completely taken aback by it. We then explored the square for a while, trying our hand out at bargaining. If you've been carefully following my blog, you may have remembered a simpler time when I was in an English-speaking country trying to bargain. I was good at it. Well, things are a little different here. People can tell I'm an American (have you seen my skin tone?), so they all latch to me, knowing full well that we have a language barrier. They speak mostly Arabic and French here, but I did find a few Spanish speakers, which closed the gap a little. Plus, my signature goofball smile was plastered all over my face, screaming "I'M AN AMERICAN, I HAVE MY MONEY, I WILL BUY YOUR SHIT." I bought traditional Moroccan shirt and pants for too much and a crappy fez cap for too much. I don't even want to talk about money except that in Ghana I won't be spending much money at all since I'll be doing a homestay and service project.

Ali, me, Nikki, Farrah, Veronica, Jimmy, Kevin, Julie

The next morning, we woke up early to meet up with our camel trek group. Everybody was under the impression that Zagora, the city our trek was leaving from, was only a few hours away. It turns out we had to wind through the (gorgeous!) Atlas Mountains and the sandy Sahara Desert for 14 HOURS. Some girls on another bus were really freaking out and calling Semester at Sea and the U.S. Consulate because they thought we were being captured. We were about 30 miles away from Algeria. The length of the drive had a lot to do with that we had so many people (~100) on the trek and we took quite a few stops for lunch, the bathroom, and stretches. I was on a small van, though, so I got some extra space for my legs. I only really started to go stir crazy by the end. Upon arrival, there were more camels than I had ever seen before in my life, which isn't very many, but still, there were a lot of camels. They were in groups of five, each led by a Berber man, so I grabbed one towards the middle. I named him John Humperdink, or Johnny Humps, for short. He wasn't ornery at all, but some of the camels were real SOB's, shrieking at every movement. Have you ever heard a camel shriek? It's pretty awful. The ride was relatively short, only about 45 minutes over a large hill. It was strikingly beautiful to ride around at night under the stars. My horseback riding background helped me out a bit, but it's a different feeling having a large hump and bone right there. The boys downstairs are still hurting. Our campsite was not what I expected. The tents were big enough to fit 10 or so people. The pillows were rock hard, though, but it barely mattered; you can't really complain when the world is at your fingertips. The night was spent eating tagine and bread, listening to the Berbers drum and sing and share stories, sitting by the fire, and watch the night sky lit up with the twinkling of millions of stars, many of which were shooting across the sky. As far the Berbers go, they are some of the friendliest people I have ever met. Their lives are pretty bare bones, consisting of nomadic desert living with very few possessions, the most important being their camel. However, this allows them to grow close to the earth and not rely so much on materialism and pop culture.

We trekked back and made our return to Casablanca the next morning. We spent about 25 hours driving, which in American terms is about the distance from Colorado to the East Coast. I honestly didn't mind because I feel like I got to see the entire country, which is about the size of France. This morning has spent walking around and taking advantage of free Wifi in a McDonald's.

So, what did I learn from Morocco?

• The country itself is more cosmopolitan and progressive than you'd think. It's a crossroads of France, Spain, Portugal, Western Africa, and the Middle East, so the culture is fairly eclectic. Not as many women were wrapped in hijab than I would've guessed, but some were completely covered. That being said, the men still are in charge.
• I'm not really a fan of their food. It consists mostly of tagine, bread, lamb, and chicken, all of which is pretty bland. I was hoping for a more Mediterranean flavor, but that's not the case. And sorry to be vulgar, but it's not very friendly on my gastrointestinal system—it doesn't come out in one piece, if you know what I mean. Mint tea is delicious, though.
• It's important to be aggressive. People will rip you off, yell at you, heckle you, and even punch you if you don't look like you know what you're doing or appear less confident. Though I have pretty thick skin, I'm too trusting of people, which is a problem when people are in it for money.
• The Berbers and Muslims of this country have the most fascinating cultures. Westernized news media coverage and bias of the "backwards Muslim jihad" is ridiculously unfair. Along the same lines, Evangelical Christianity could learn a thing or two from the accepting nature of Islam.
• Some people are not cut out for Semester at Sea. A number of folks are going home already. Good for them for knowing that they aren't ready for something like this—I really respect that.
• I have a lot more to learn. I can't wait for what's to come.

Finally, a thought on writing. In order to feel inspired, one must rip themselves away from the familiar and get yourself away from your comfort zone. Since Morocco is so unlike everywhere I have been, I've been feeling extremely overwhelmed with inspiration. Here's a poem from the train to Marakkech:

In a clandestine Moroccan dream

I foresaw a sandy butte

Standing amongst the pine groves.

The Berbers kindly waved

While I passed on freight.

Their veiled faces a cloudy figure

In the land of barren earth

Fed only by sun and moon.

A romantic oasis of lamb kebab

And herb-infused pita,

My Moroccan dream ignites

A wandering old soul within my young bones.

Perhaps this land was kind to

The right person with seaside hopes

Of regal Rabat or the novel Casablanca,

Maybe even arid Marakkech.

But I, I long for the snowy Rockies

Of a familiar home

Many fortnights away.

In a clandestine Moroccan dream

A thirst was sequestered

And sustained

As twilight approached.

I miss home more than I expected, but man, oh man, I'm loving life right now. One week until Ghana!!!!

P.S. Yes, the title is a reference to Casablanca and Rick's Café. I didn't find the original, but there are something around eight replicas throughout the city.

Not actually the one and only