Three and a half weeks ago began the processions of Semana Santa in Spain. For 8 days straight, tourists from all over the world streamed into Granada to see the extraordinary floats and processions. I missed most of it, unfortunately. But I had a truly unforgettable experience elsewhere.
On the Thursday after midterms, our group arrived in a southern port town of Spain called Algeciras. The next day we took a ferry across the Straight of Gibraltar and arrived in Africa two hours later. With the Central Abroad program in Granada, the four-day trip to Morocco with the Morocco Exchange Program is available to students free of charge. On the first day we arrived in Tangier, the very northern tip of the country, and were welcomed with warm sunshine and lots and lots of stares. We first went to an outdoor marketplace so our tour guide could buy oranges and bananas for snack. Unaccustomed to the various animals dangling by their feet from the ceilings and the strange mixture of smells, the student had anywhere from looks of pure joy and to looks of surprise and horror. After the market, we walked to a women’s center to have an intercambio with some of the local students. At the center, women learn skills that they can use to make their own living and take classes like English, computers, and weaving. Two young men and a woman were waiting upstairs for us out on the roof terrace where we proceeded to discuss politics, contrast in cultures, women’s rights, local issues for a few hours, while sipping on tea and eating delicious pastries. And later that day we experienced our first Moroccan meal – a tajine of couscous with rabbit meat, raisins, carrots, and squash. It was absolutely delicious.
Goodbye Spain! Hello Morocco!
The outdoor marketplace.
Woman and her granddaughter outside the women’s center.
A girl spinning thread onto a spool inside the center.
Lunch!
In the afternoon, we were on our way to Rabat, the capital of Morocco, to meet our host families. Before we arrived, our tour guide Rick spotted camels along side the road near the ocean so we decided to stop and ride them. (Expenses also covered by the program, awesome right?) I nearly jumped out of the window of our van when I saw the camels. This was probably one of my biggest goals for this trip – ride a camel on a beach! And of course, here’s the picture proof:
Even though I’m smiling, I’m actually freaking out because I thought I was going to fall face first into the sand.
Our camel caravan.
Along the way we stopped at a small city called Asilah, a beautiful old town with a mixture of cultures situated on the cliffs toward the Atlantic Ocean. It used to be the Jewish quarters and even today, though the city is completely Muslim, all the houses are painted half blue, the color most representative of Judaism. Now adays, the tourism industry is slowly beginning to take over the city since more and more five star hotels are being built along the beaches. The contrast was very dramatic, as we passed by the walled-up slums of Asilah on our way to Rabat.
Some Street musicians were performing right at the top of the stairs that lead to a viewpoint of the ocean. After I gave them some change, they pulled me into their group and tried to teach me that eccentric instrument.
Images are painted all over the walls as a part of the yearly mural competition.
Kids playing soccer on the beach.
After finally arriving in Rabat that night, we were separated into groups of threes and left with our new families to eat dinner and spend the night. Upon arriving, we learned that traditionally, Moroccans eat meals with their hands, no utensils except when drinking soup with a spoon. And I think due to sanitary reasons, only eat with their right hand. Our host father, Saeed, was involved in foreign affairs and has traveled quite extensively to many countries, including the US. He and his wife Fati, who teaches Arabic to host students in their home, speak English almost fluently. We also had a host brother, Soufian, around our age who also spoke English very well. That night he took us out for a walk around town – we walked out of the old city, which was where we were staying, and into the more modern and more commercialized areas outside the surrounding walls.
This was our gorgeous room with our host family. It was a traditional Moroccan house with a transparent ceiling in the living room. Every morning there were tiny birds flying around the main room, waiting for us to throw them some bread. Too bad we only got to stay there two nights.
Our adorable little host sister on the left and host brother on the right getting ready for dinner.
The next morning our group took a trip to the Chellah ruins that lie on the outskirts of Rabat. There were storks flying everywhere and building their nests among the ruins. It was kind of a strange sight to see these birds literally take over the entire place. Our tour guide Rick described it as “the place where babies are made.” Later that afternoon, our groups were paired up with Moroccan students who took us around town, the markets, some to the beach, but most of us ended up in a pool hall where the young people like to hang out. At 6:30 our new friends needed to bring us back to the rest of the group to talk to a Peace Corps volunteer and a Fulbright scholar. At 6:25 one of them asks us if we want to go see the ocean. Yeah, why not – so what if we’re going to be a little late? And of course, it was totally worth it because the sunset was absolutely gorgeous. Luckily, somehow we got back right before the Peace Corps volunteer started speaking so we didn’t miss a thing.
Stork nests atop the minaret of the mosque at Chellah.
Markets in Rabat.
Sunset by the ocean.
A family at the viewpoint by the ocean.
For most families who live in traditional Moroccan homes, they clean themselves at the nearby bathhouses called Hammams since homes are not equipped with showers. So that night, we changed into our bathing suits and braved ourselves for the inevitable need to get clean, but in front of other people. By that point some of us hadn’t taken a shower in two days so it was a huge relief, though we had no idea what to expect. Since I don’t spoil the wonderful surprise for those of you who are going on the Morocco Exchange Program in the future, let me just say that it was a very interesting experience. : ) After our cleansing experience, we headed home to spend the last night with our host family. Dinner was already waiting for us when we walked in and consisted of a traditional Moroccan lentil soup called the hariria, made by the grandmother, sardines with tomatoes, a garlic rabbit and potatoes dish, small plates full of olives and pickled vegetables on the side, and of course, bread and coca cola to wash everything down. Even though in Morocco it’s somewhat strange for women to be out very late, the three of us went out with our host brother Soufian and his cousin Yassine at around 10 or 11. We sat outside a café, sipping milkshakes and coffee for a few hours and just asked each other questions about what it was like to live in Morocco or in the US. I realized more and more that Moroccans, especially the youth population, know more about US culture, mainly through the popular media and music, than we know about theirs. And almost every young person I met here has asked me at some point if I like Kanye West.
We said goodbye to our family the next morning and headed towards another city, called Chefchaouen. During the trip, we stopped at a cafe in the middle of nowhere and came upon a camel race on television. Everybody was completely entranced for a good 5 minutes. While we were waiting in line to use the Turkish toilets at the rest stop, a horse cart randomly pulled into the gas station and I immediately took off in its direction. I’m usually not very shy when it comes to talking to strangers, so I quickly made friends with the owners of the cart and they let me ride on it for a while before they left. Before reaching the city center of Chefchaouen, we stopped at the rural outskirts of town at a farming family’s home for lunch. They lived in a relatively isolated village up a hill that took quite a while to walk to, and far from what most consider modernity. Our group spent five hours with them, talking, eating, hiking up mountains, playing drums, and dancing and singing on hilltops. We had a translator with us because the family spoke Berber, the dialect that most Moroccans speak, since the Berber population there is about 80%, and a little bit of Arabic and French. But most of our communication was through body language when we were holding hands and dancing together. Upon reflection, it was probably my favorite cultural experience in Morocco.
Camel race!
And this is just one of the odd sights we saw in Morocco. A horse cart… filling up on gas.
In Chefchaouen, we had free time to roam around the city on our own before dinner so most of us took this opportunity to stock up on souvenirs and practice our bargaining skills. The rule here is that you never ever settle for the original price they give you. You cut that price in half… sometimes more, and then settle somewhere in the middle. But don’t bargain for things that are already really cheap, like postcards, because the storeowners will get mad at you, as I’ve learned the hard way when I was kicked out of a store. And I was told that if you agree on a price, but don’t buy the product, you’re just asking for a verbal beating.
More blue and white buildings.
One thing you should know about Morocco – there are stray cats everywhere.
On Monday morning we woke up at 6 in the morning and hiked up a mountain to see a mosque. Since mosques are sacred to Muslims, non-Muslims are not allowed to enter… so we were very surprised when our tour guide told us we could actually go into this one. After climbing for 20 minutes or so, we reached the top of the hill and realized why we could enter – it was a ruin, a mosque no longer in use and covered with graffiti. Our group sat on the steps in front of the ruin and took in the view of the entire city of Chefchaouen. Eventually some of us started to climb up the tower, which literally only had enough space for one person to go at a time. The narrow and somewhat dangerous stairs led us through the darkness until the morning light welcomed us to the very top.
The mosque on the hill.
The view of the city from the minaret.
Climbing back down the tower is no easy task.
This was the last day of the Exchange Program so the group packed up its belongings and took off to return to Spain. Four of my friends and I decided to stay. What we experienced in the next five days was beyond any of my expectations. I cried, I laughed, I got angry and many occasions, and of course, I had an incredible and unforgettable experience with dozens of crazy stories that came out of the trip.
. Everyone speaks of the French being very rude to Americans, but I encountered almost the opposite. All the French that I encountered were extremely friendly even after they uncovered that we were American. If anything the stereotype should be that Italians are the rude ones. Personally, I cannot say enough good things about the trip to Paris.
