Ah, Morocco. It's always been on my shortlist of countries to visit, just waiting for the right time to make it happen. As it's a francophone country I already knew a little bit about it from my French culture classes at college, which is what put it on my list in the first place. Marquette even started offering a summer dual-language program with Arabic/French during my last year there, including a homestay and a couple nights in the desert. It sounded like the perfect linguistic and travel adventure, so I applied and got accepted, but the program was canceled due to lack of interest from other students. Unfortunately since I graduated shortly after I would no longer be a student for the next time the program was offered. Morocco moved further down my list of near-future travels.
However, this summer when I moved into my new apartment in Lyon (à la l'Auberge Espagnole), Morocco crept back up onto my shortlist. As it turned out, my new roommate Jennat was Moroccan, from Rabat, the capital. I learned more about Moroccan culture first-hand and it became more pressing that I visit soon. Then during the month of July her mom, Halima, and her mom's boyfriend Momo (Mohammed) came to stay at our apartment. Halima used to work for the American Embassy in Morocco, so when she met me and Mark she was eager to work on her English again. Her boyfriend Momo is an artistic type. He's an author of Arabic poetry, a director, and now a film teacher. We spent nights together eating couscous, drinking red wine, and discussing philosophy, often having the opportunity to hear some of Momo's poetry that he knew by heart. We got along well. As Mark and I didn't have work that month we were often at home and were always goofing around. Momo really enjoyed the fact that we were always laughing and happy and amicably called us "petits oiseaux" (little birds).
When they left I knew I'd see them again, but I didn't think it'd be so soon.
Luckily life as a part-time teacher provides lots of days off and school vacations to take some short trips. So of course when my roommate Jennat brought up how much she missed home and wanted to go back near the Toussaint school vacation, I decided to take advantage of my connections and free time and booked a flight with her. It was a very spur-of-the-moment decision, two weeks before the date of our flights. Jennat would be arriving a few days before me, and I was set to arrive Tuesday October 22nd, leaving Sunday the 27th. I was only slightly hesitant to buy the tickets as this meant I'd be in Morocco on my birthday and I still hadn't decided how I wanted to celebrate. Normally I don't care too much about birthdays (although I've had some pretty great birthdays abroad), but this year was special though. It was my golden birthday. A birthday which, of course, I'd been looking forward to since I was little. Most people don't know what I mean when I say it's my golden birthday. It's the birthday when you turn the same age as the number of the date you were born; so I turned 24 on October 24th. Most people are really young when there's comes along, but I knew I'd be a young adult still when mine would finally happen. I knew I'd have to make it memorable. So the only thing making me hesitant for Morocco was that I was originally planning a party at my apartment for that weekend, October 26th, but of course the traveler in me wanted to do something much more adventurous for my birthday. Originally I was even thinking of going to Fiji or somewhere exotic with my friend Nick whose golden birthday was the day after mine (he turned 25 on the 25th), but those plans never came to fruition. Being in another country though, I knew I'd be sure to have an interesting birthday anyway. So I booked my flights.
Like most of my easyJet vacations, my trip to Morocco started off with one hour of sleep. *lesigh* I'm not sure how I do it. Perhaps it's the excitement of knowing I absolutely cannot miss the flight or I'll miss out on another great adventure. Or perhaps I'm just used to it from various nuits blanches (all-nighters) at college. Determination, I've got a lot of it.
My 6:45 am flight landed in Casablanca's Mohammed V Airport around 8:30 local time. I was greeted at the arrivals gate by a smiling Jennat who took me to her car where Halima was waiting. It was so great to see her again; it was almost like I was coming home or arriving somewhere I was supposed to be familiar with already. Roughly 1.5 hours later we arrived at Halima's apartment just outside of Rabat, a couple blocks from the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. I was completely exhausted but open-minded and ready for a day of exploring and eating good food.
Jennat and I relaxed a little bit and ate some really delicious homemade Moroccan crepes/pancakes which the locals refer to as "mille-trou," (thousand holes) in reference to the French's dessert "mille-feuille," (thousand leaves). Halima told us she bought them from a local lady who uses the money she earns from them to feed her children.
After a quick cat nap, we headed out to pick up her grandmother (who doesn't speak any English or French) and eat some delicious couscous at her father's restaurant, Dinarjat, a very traditional Moroccan restaurant in the heart of the Medina, a walled part of the city with lots of winding roads and paths, also known as the Old Town. I realized very quickly how good of a driver you have to be if you want to drive a car in Morocco. As Jennat put it: "It isn't driving in Morocco, it's surviving." The rules are only a recommendation for most drivers who basically only follow street light directions when they exist, otherwise driving in multiple lanes, using the breaks at the last minute, double-parking and honking a lot.
Once we arrived outside the Medina, parking was another adventure. In Morocco, if the parking lot isn't metered, there is most likely a man who "takes care" of the cars in the lot, who you're expected to pay when you leave because he keeps your car safe. The best ones actually give you advice and help you park, in what is most likely a very tight squeeze between two other cars. This one was a pest; he bombarded us right away, asking for money before we'd even stayed parked there for a while. Eventually we escaped him and made our way through the narrow, winding paths of the Medina into one of the most beautiful restaurants I've ever been in.
As Morocco is a monarchy, pictures of the King and his family can be found all over the place, especially in stores, restaurants, and on billboards. This was one of my favorite pictures I managed to snap of him looking cool at Dinarjat.
Following our massive couscous meal and delicious dessert, we dropped off Jennat's grandmother and started seeing some of the rest of the city.
We started with a visit to the Kasbah of the Udayas which sits along the Bou Regreg river.
At the heart of the kasbah is a really beautiful area of small alleyways and blue-painted buildings.
Next we headed to the marketplace back in the Medina where you can find rugs, pottery, jewelry, food, clothing, homemade Moroccan cookies, and lots of spices, among other things. It's a sensory overload.
Next we went to the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, which is on the same esplanade as Hassan Tower, an incomplete minaret of what was supposed to be the world's largest mosque from the 1100s.
The rest of the evening we spent watching some soccer over drinks and tapas with Jennat's dad in one of his other restaurants called Les Deux Palais.
We went back home decently early so I could sleep off my jetlagged haze and so we could get out the door on time for our 700 km roadtrip to the south of Morocco.
Wednesday morning the four of us, Halima, Momo, Jennat and I, got up early to start our long journey at 8 am. I brought with me two Moroccan books that Halima had given to me and Mark earlier in the summer before she left Lyon, but once I was in the car she handed me Momo's award-winning autobiography to read instead. Unaware of the harsh childhood he had lived in Fes, it was incredibly touching and moving to be able to read such an intimate and personal story of someone who was sitting 4 feet away from me, seeing a side of him I never could've imagined existed. It's incredible how someone with such a sweet, sensitive heart could have lived through such heart-breaking conditions. With the Moroccan countryside zooming by outside my car window, it was easy to be taken to another time and place while reading Momo's story.
As we got closer to our destination near the desert, we saw more and more clay-style villages sprinkled across vast landscapes.
In the early afternoon we made a stop at a gas station that was under construction to have a lunch picnic. Luckily for us the owner just happened to be there working and he invited us to sit in the soon-to-be cafe area where we had some leftover chicken tagine and vegetables.
If you couldn't tell yet, this became my trip of a week without makeup, infrequent showers, and getting used to using Turkish toilets. Luckily during this long road trip I had waited until the right moment to use the bathroom, because this gas station had a "normal" toilet and it even had toilet paper! (a rare occasion).
After our lunch we hit the road, anxious to put more kilometers behind us and see more signs of the approaching desert.
Throughout the journey the landscapes were impressively ever-changing, from mountains to deserts to forests full of monkeys. Parts of it looked a lot like Jurassic Park, with the contrasted sandy desert feel and the clusters of deep green palm trees.
We made a pit stop just above a valley with a palm tree forest where we bought some delicious dates from a local.
Just after sunset we finally arrived at our kasbah hotel. Having to take a bumpy off-road gravel path 6 kilometers in the dark before reaching our final destination.
Upon arriving at the hotel, we got our room assignments and got settled a little bit before dinner and musical entertainment which was provided by the staff.
We spent some time on the rooftop terrace of Halima and Momo's room, drinking wine and listening to the music of Edith Piaf and Francoise Hardy while Halima told me about her teenage days of idolizing Francoise and dressing up as her in secret with her girlfriends. The night sky was clear and the stars were plenty, but it was too dark to see any of the sand dunes. We knew they were there and were anxious to see them, but that'd have to be a surprise for the morning.
Dinner was a typical beef Moroccan tagine and after it was served some of the hotel staff came out and played drums and other instruments for their guests. Halima willingly joined in.
The following day was my birthday and our only full day at our kasbah hotel before heading back to Rabat on Friday. Before our jeep excursion we started our day with a quick breakfast and a peek outside to finally see the sand dunes, where we'd eventually be spending the night.
Around 11 the four of us hopped in a jeep and went sightseeing at some nearby towns. Our first stop was an oasis to see how the people living nearby farmed with so little water.
This is a local well where people can fill up jugs of water. Between 1-2 meters underground there is a water source. Apparently this is what keeps the sand dunes in place.
The irrigation system for this village is regulated. There's a small stream that goes through the center of a bunch of different farm plots, but only one or two people have access to the water for a certain amount of time, and then they switch. They each have separate pathways for water which provide access to the rest of their plot, but if it isn't their turn then they add mud to the opening to block the water from entering.
On our way to our next village we were stopped on the path by two young boys, each with a fennec (desert fox) on a leash in their arms. They wanted money in exchange for a picture taken with the fox, but after a couple tries of taking a picture from the middle seat of the jeep, all of a sudden Momo had one in his hand and was handing it off to me. Reluctant to take it, Momo assured me that they're nice animals, so I tried my best to hold on to it long enough before it got too wriggly.
Our next stop was a small village of around 100 people called Khamlia. It's populated by a denomination of the tribe called the Gnawas who originated from western and central Africa and are descendants of "black" African slaves (hence the town being called "village noir," black village). They're famous for their musical style which is very spiritual and often trance-inducing, depending on the occasion. Their music is created with a mixture of vocals, gimbris (a type of lute), krakebs (a type of hand chime) and drums. When we arrived in Khamlia a musical group called Les Pigeons du Sable (Pigeons of the Sand) provided us and some other visitors with a concert, and at the end when almost everyone had left, they invited Jennat, Halima and I to dance with them.
On our way back to the hotel we stopped off at a huge hill which offered some really good panoramic views of the dunes and the border of Algeria.
Once we were back at the hotel we decided to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool and going for a swim, considering it was nearly 90 degrees (30C).
Our relaxation time was cut a little short because Jennat and I had to prepare our bags and ourselves for our night in the desert.
The journey on the dromedaries lasted about 45 minutes, and we left at just the right time so that we would experience the Moroccan sunset in the sand dunes. We didn't think, however, that we'd be abandoned by our guide and our dromedaries to find a good viewpoint ourselves.
I thought our guide was joking when he said we had to leave our dromedaries, climb the massive dune in front of us to see the sunset, and then once we traversed the whole dune we'd find the camp just on the other side, out of sight. I was especially concerned because before I left for my trip a friend of mine told me her friend who went to the desert was abandoned by her guide and thought they were left there to fend for themselves. But he was serious. And Jennat was seriously determined to climb that dune to the top.
So there we were, 4 Italians, Jennat and I, watching as our guide and all 6 dromedaries walked off into the distance...
After an exhausting and nearly impossible climb up half the dune, I was equally as far away from Jennat as I was from the struggling Italians. I was unsure of what to do, leave my friend to climb the dunes herself, or exhaust whatever energy I had left in survival mode.
Climbing any further seemed impossible. it felt like I was using the energy it takes to move 5 steps just to move one. And by the looks of it, the Italians were not about to continue on either. So I wished Jennat good luck and climbed down the other side of the dune with the Italians, in the direction of the supposed camp we were meant to sleep at that night. Unfortunately for me, Jennat had both our bottles of water in her backpack and the Italians didn't speak any considerable amount of English. Luckily they were concerned and generous people and they gave me some of their own water, trying to communicate with me in Italian and very few words of English. In hopes of bonding better when they found out I don't know any Italian, I told them my grandfather is Sicilian and they all got excited. One of them then started mocking the Sicilian accent in Italian. I felt like I was on some weird survival reality tv show. I thought to myself, at least I have a good sense of direction and I could always follow our path back to the hotel.
But lo and behold, after what seemed like forever, our camp came into sight. Relief. I just couldn't believe that they actually expected their average guests to be able to make such an effort to see the sunset.
We entered our camp and sat down around the low table on the ground where we were soon to have dinner. Jennat didn't come back for another 15-20 minutes. But she came back! Apparently there was an even larger dune to climb after the one where we left her, and even she couldn't do that.
So this is what I actually saw in terms of a sunset, slightly disappointed because I had hoped to have seen something as beautiful as what we saw the night before, but nothing could be seen from behind the dunes.
Once night fell and we had our dinner, things started to pick back up. The stark silhouettes of the dunes up against the starry night sky which was incredibly beautiful and clear felt like I was in a painting. You could even see the milky bits of the Milky Way. The Italians were really funny, especially the one who's a chef and tried communicating with us with a lot of funny hand motions. There was one in particular who could speak English the best, and he told us they're from Tuscany. They even gave us their email address and invited us to be their guests whenever we want.
After dinner our guide and another guide and his two Dutch guests came to join us, ready to start playing some gnawa music for the nightly entertainment. As they walked out of the tent playing drums, there was a young boy with them carrying what appeared to be a cake. At first they were standing there playing music and singing for a while, and then he came over and put the "cake" in front of me. It turned out to be a lovely sand cake for my birthday! Shortly after everyone started singing "Happy Birthday" to me, in English.
When the band started playing they tried getting some people to play with them and even dance to the music. All of us were too tired and cold to move from our spots, so instead they passed around the drums and made the rest of us come up with the music. It became quite a rhythmic challenge when there were 3 sets of drums around and 6 people trying to play something. It was not coherent, but rather fun.
After some more star gazing our guide showed us where our tents were and told us he'd wake us up in the morning for breakfast at sunrise.
When we closed the carpet door flap we noticed a really big dung beetle, to which Jennat said "oh no, you are not invited" and we shooed it away, hoping not to step on it in the dark.
Around 6 am, just a half an hour before the sunrise, we heard some noises above our tent. Jennat, hidden under her covers, whispered to me "Angela, what is that?" as if I'd know. Luckily there were posts in our tent because some cats thought it'd be a good idea to run along the rooftops, scaring the crap out of everyone and waking them up.
At 6:30 we set out to the nearest sand dune to sit and watch the sunrise before having breakfast and getting back on our dromedaries to head back.
As we were arriving back from our hour-long trek to the hotel, we were greeted by a waving Halima and Momo. We said goodbye to our new Italian friends and packed our things into our car, ready for the long haul back to Rabat.
Along our way we stopped at a cafe where I was immediately recognizable as a tourist, as I was the only caucasian/European looking person in sight. Everyone just kind of assumed I was French most of the time. When two kids walked past me once, a little one said "bonjour" to me. Another time when we were asking for directions and I was in the front seat while Momo was asking in Arabic, the lady apparently said "oh I wish I could've practiced my foreign languages," not expecting us to be speaking Arabic.
While we were at our table having coffee, the man at the table behind us smiled at me. Unsure of what this meant I kind of half-smiled back. Then about 5 minutes later he reached into one of the boxes he had and took out 4 dates, one for each of us. Since we were still pretty far south, the dates in the region are meant to be the absolute best tasting. Grateful for his offering, Momo ended up buying a box from him. I gave him a proper smile of thanks and a "merci" on my way out.
Although one of Morocco's official languages is French, there were some times where knowing French wasn't as helpful as knowing English. In the smaller villages the main language seemed to be just Arabic, although everything is written in both Arabic and French.
Back in Rabat after sunset, Jennat and I were finally able to take a shower and put on makeup before meeting up with her dad for dinner and wine at his soon-opening restaurant on the beach called La Plage. It was kind of a preview night for her dad and a bunch of important people from the city to get a feel for the restaurant that would soon be opening. I definitely met some interesting people that night, and I was at least able to use my French again.
The next day, Saturday, was our last day in Rabat before Jennat and I had our early-morning flight from Casablanca to Lyon Sunday. Needless to say we had a lot of shopping to do and errands to run.
We started our morning off with some exercise with Jennat's dad along the ocean side. We went on a 2-hour walk during which Jennat showed me the house where she grew up and her old neighborhood which has an outstanding view of the ocean.
When we got back to Halima's, an amazing lunch was waiting for us. Halima and Momo had cooked us a really nice seafood lunch, fresh from the ocean. The food seemed endless!
After a shower we finally got out of the apartment around 3/4 pm and started making our way around town. We stopped to pick up her pants from the tailor's, I found a place to buy stamps for postcards, and then we went to the old marketplace again, in hopes of finding some souvenirs.
Jennat found some spices she wanted to bring back to France because they're a lot cheaper in Morocco. I found a rug, some delicious Moroccan cookies, and some small souvenirs for my family/friends.
After the market we stopped by Jennat's grandma's place to say goodbye and then headed over to La Plage again for dinner. Then we met up with some of Jennat's friends at a latino bar where they played songs like "Waka Waka," "Ai Se Eu Te Pego," and others I recognized from my glory days in Global Village. It was a nice, relaxing way to end my stay there in Morocco.
Back in Rabat I found a copy of Momo's autobiography with a written dedication to me on the front page.
I unfortunately didn't get to say a real goodbye to Halima and Momo because we had to be up at 5:30 to catch our cab to Casablanca. We had spent a good part of the previous day trying to figure out the daylight savings time change and if it would affect our flight. After concluding it wouldn't since Morocco and France changed at the same time, we were expecting things to go smoothly. We didn't expect the cab driver to forget to change his clock and arrive an hour early. So we left at 4:30 in a daze, ready to sleep on the 2.5 hour flight back to Lyon, still amazed at how much we did in such a short time.
At the airport in Casablanca one of the workers at our gate was wearing a Packers hat. It's a small world.
However, this summer when I moved into my new apartment in Lyon (à la l'Auberge Espagnole), Morocco crept back up onto my shortlist. As it turned out, my new roommate Jennat was Moroccan, from Rabat, the capital. I learned more about Moroccan culture first-hand and it became more pressing that I visit soon. Then during the month of July her mom, Halima, and her mom's boyfriend Momo (Mohammed) came to stay at our apartment. Halima used to work for the American Embassy in Morocco, so when she met me and Mark she was eager to work on her English again. Her boyfriend Momo is an artistic type. He's an author of Arabic poetry, a director, and now a film teacher. We spent nights together eating couscous, drinking red wine, and discussing philosophy, often having the opportunity to hear some of Momo's poetry that he knew by heart. We got along well. As Mark and I didn't have work that month we were often at home and were always goofing around. Momo really enjoyed the fact that we were always laughing and happy and amicably called us "petits oiseaux" (little birds).
When they left I knew I'd see them again, but I didn't think it'd be so soon.
Luckily life as a part-time teacher provides lots of days off and school vacations to take some short trips. So of course when my roommate Jennat brought up how much she missed home and wanted to go back near the Toussaint school vacation, I decided to take advantage of my connections and free time and booked a flight with her. It was a very spur-of-the-moment decision, two weeks before the date of our flights. Jennat would be arriving a few days before me, and I was set to arrive Tuesday October 22nd, leaving Sunday the 27th. I was only slightly hesitant to buy the tickets as this meant I'd be in Morocco on my birthday and I still hadn't decided how I wanted to celebrate. Normally I don't care too much about birthdays (although I've had some pretty great birthdays abroad), but this year was special though. It was my golden birthday. A birthday which, of course, I'd been looking forward to since I was little. Most people don't know what I mean when I say it's my golden birthday. It's the birthday when you turn the same age as the number of the date you were born; so I turned 24 on October 24th. Most people are really young when there's comes along, but I knew I'd be a young adult still when mine would finally happen. I knew I'd have to make it memorable. So the only thing making me hesitant for Morocco was that I was originally planning a party at my apartment for that weekend, October 26th, but of course the traveler in me wanted to do something much more adventurous for my birthday. Originally I was even thinking of going to Fiji or somewhere exotic with my friend Nick whose golden birthday was the day after mine (he turned 25 on the 25th), but those plans never came to fruition. Being in another country though, I knew I'd be sure to have an interesting birthday anyway. So I booked my flights.
Like most of my easyJet vacations, my trip to Morocco started off with one hour of sleep. *lesigh* I'm not sure how I do it. Perhaps it's the excitement of knowing I absolutely cannot miss the flight or I'll miss out on another great adventure. Or perhaps I'm just used to it from various nuits blanches (all-nighters) at college. Determination, I've got a lot of it.
My 6:45 am flight landed in Casablanca's Mohammed V Airport around 8:30 local time. I was greeted at the arrivals gate by a smiling Jennat who took me to her car where Halima was waiting. It was so great to see her again; it was almost like I was coming home or arriving somewhere I was supposed to be familiar with already. Roughly 1.5 hours later we arrived at Halima's apartment just outside of Rabat, a couple blocks from the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. I was completely exhausted but open-minded and ready for a day of exploring and eating good food.
Jennat and I relaxed a little bit and ate some really delicious homemade Moroccan crepes/pancakes which the locals refer to as "mille-trou," (thousand holes) in reference to the French's dessert "mille-feuille," (thousand leaves). Halima told us she bought them from a local lady who uses the money she earns from them to feed her children.
After a quick cat nap, we headed out to pick up her grandmother (who doesn't speak any English or French) and eat some delicious couscous at her father's restaurant, Dinarjat, a very traditional Moroccan restaurant in the heart of the Medina, a walled part of the city with lots of winding roads and paths, also known as the Old Town. I realized very quickly how good of a driver you have to be if you want to drive a car in Morocco. As Jennat put it: "It isn't driving in Morocco, it's surviving." The rules are only a recommendation for most drivers who basically only follow street light directions when they exist, otherwise driving in multiple lanes, using the breaks at the last minute, double-parking and honking a lot.
Once we arrived outside the Medina, parking was another adventure. In Morocco, if the parking lot isn't metered, there is most likely a man who "takes care" of the cars in the lot, who you're expected to pay when you leave because he keeps your car safe. The best ones actually give you advice and help you park, in what is most likely a very tight squeeze between two other cars. This one was a pest; he bombarded us right away, asking for money before we'd even stayed parked there for a while. Eventually we escaped him and made our way through the narrow, winding paths of the Medina into one of the most beautiful restaurants I've ever been in.
As Morocco is a monarchy, pictures of the King and his family can be found all over the place, especially in stores, restaurants, and on billboards. This was one of my favorite pictures I managed to snap of him looking cool at Dinarjat.
Following our massive couscous meal and delicious dessert, we dropped off Jennat's grandmother and started seeing some of the rest of the city.
We started with a visit to the Kasbah of the Udayas which sits along the Bou Regreg river.
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| The interior gardens |
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| Bou Regreg and Salé, the city across the river |
Next we headed to the marketplace back in the Medina where you can find rugs, pottery, jewelry, food, clothing, homemade Moroccan cookies, and lots of spices, among other things. It's a sensory overload.
Next we went to the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, which is on the same esplanade as Hassan Tower, an incomplete minaret of what was supposed to be the world's largest mosque from the 1100s.
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| The Mausoleum of Mohammed V |
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| Hassan Tower |
The rest of the evening we spent watching some soccer over drinks and tapas with Jennat's dad in one of his other restaurants called Les Deux Palais.
We went back home decently early so I could sleep off my jetlagged haze and so we could get out the door on time for our 700 km roadtrip to the south of Morocco.
Wednesday morning the four of us, Halima, Momo, Jennat and I, got up early to start our long journey at 8 am. I brought with me two Moroccan books that Halima had given to me and Mark earlier in the summer before she left Lyon, but once I was in the car she handed me Momo's award-winning autobiography to read instead. Unaware of the harsh childhood he had lived in Fes, it was incredibly touching and moving to be able to read such an intimate and personal story of someone who was sitting 4 feet away from me, seeing a side of him I never could've imagined existed. It's incredible how someone with such a sweet, sensitive heart could have lived through such heart-breaking conditions. With the Moroccan countryside zooming by outside my car window, it was easy to be taken to another time and place while reading Momo's story.
As we got closer to our destination near the desert, we saw more and more clay-style villages sprinkled across vast landscapes.
In the early afternoon we made a stop at a gas station that was under construction to have a lunch picnic. Luckily for us the owner just happened to be there working and he invited us to sit in the soon-to-be cafe area where we had some leftover chicken tagine and vegetables.
If you couldn't tell yet, this became my trip of a week without makeup, infrequent showers, and getting used to using Turkish toilets. Luckily during this long road trip I had waited until the right moment to use the bathroom, because this gas station had a "normal" toilet and it even had toilet paper! (a rare occasion).
After our lunch we hit the road, anxious to put more kilometers behind us and see more signs of the approaching desert.
Throughout the journey the landscapes were impressively ever-changing, from mountains to deserts to forests full of monkeys. Parts of it looked a lot like Jurassic Park, with the contrasted sandy desert feel and the clusters of deep green palm trees.
We made a pit stop just above a valley with a palm tree forest where we bought some delicious dates from a local.
Just after sunset we finally arrived at our kasbah hotel. Having to take a bumpy off-road gravel path 6 kilometers in the dark before reaching our final destination.
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| Morocco is famous for its beautiful sunsets |
We spent some time on the rooftop terrace of Halima and Momo's room, drinking wine and listening to the music of Edith Piaf and Francoise Hardy while Halima told me about her teenage days of idolizing Francoise and dressing up as her in secret with her girlfriends. The night sky was clear and the stars were plenty, but it was too dark to see any of the sand dunes. We knew they were there and were anxious to see them, but that'd have to be a surprise for the morning.
Dinner was a typical beef Moroccan tagine and after it was served some of the hotel staff came out and played drums and other instruments for their guests. Halima willingly joined in.
The following day was my birthday and our only full day at our kasbah hotel before heading back to Rabat on Friday. Before our jeep excursion we started our day with a quick breakfast and a peek outside to finally see the sand dunes, where we'd eventually be spending the night.
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| The view from behind our kasbah hotel |
This is a local well where people can fill up jugs of water. Between 1-2 meters underground there is a water source. Apparently this is what keeps the sand dunes in place.
The irrigation system for this village is regulated. There's a small stream that goes through the center of a bunch of different farm plots, but only one or two people have access to the water for a certain amount of time, and then they switch. They each have separate pathways for water which provide access to the rest of their plot, but if it isn't their turn then they add mud to the opening to block the water from entering.
On our way to our next village we were stopped on the path by two young boys, each with a fennec (desert fox) on a leash in their arms. They wanted money in exchange for a picture taken with the fox, but after a couple tries of taking a picture from the middle seat of the jeep, all of a sudden Momo had one in his hand and was handing it off to me. Reluctant to take it, Momo assured me that they're nice animals, so I tried my best to hold on to it long enough before it got too wriggly.
Our next stop was a small village of around 100 people called Khamlia. It's populated by a denomination of the tribe called the Gnawas who originated from western and central Africa and are descendants of "black" African slaves (hence the town being called "village noir," black village). They're famous for their musical style which is very spiritual and often trance-inducing, depending on the occasion. Their music is created with a mixture of vocals, gimbris (a type of lute), krakebs (a type of hand chime) and drums. When we arrived in Khamlia a musical group called Les Pigeons du Sable (Pigeons of the Sand) provided us and some other visitors with a concert, and at the end when almost everyone had left, they invited Jennat, Halima and I to dance with them.
On our way back to the hotel we stopped off at a huge hill which offered some really good panoramic views of the dunes and the border of Algeria.
Once we were back at the hotel we decided to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool and going for a swim, considering it was nearly 90 degrees (30C).
Our relaxation time was cut a little short because Jennat and I had to prepare our bags and ourselves for our night in the desert.
The journey on the dromedaries lasted about 45 minutes, and we left at just the right time so that we would experience the Moroccan sunset in the sand dunes. We didn't think, however, that we'd be abandoned by our guide and our dromedaries to find a good viewpoint ourselves.
I thought our guide was joking when he said we had to leave our dromedaries, climb the massive dune in front of us to see the sunset, and then once we traversed the whole dune we'd find the camp just on the other side, out of sight. I was especially concerned because before I left for my trip a friend of mine told me her friend who went to the desert was abandoned by her guide and thought they were left there to fend for themselves. But he was serious. And Jennat was seriously determined to climb that dune to the top.
So there we were, 4 Italians, Jennat and I, watching as our guide and all 6 dromedaries walked off into the distance...
After an exhausting and nearly impossible climb up half the dune, I was equally as far away from Jennat as I was from the struggling Italians. I was unsure of what to do, leave my friend to climb the dunes herself, or exhaust whatever energy I had left in survival mode.
Climbing any further seemed impossible. it felt like I was using the energy it takes to move 5 steps just to move one. And by the looks of it, the Italians were not about to continue on either. So I wished Jennat good luck and climbed down the other side of the dune with the Italians, in the direction of the supposed camp we were meant to sleep at that night. Unfortunately for me, Jennat had both our bottles of water in her backpack and the Italians didn't speak any considerable amount of English. Luckily they were concerned and generous people and they gave me some of their own water, trying to communicate with me in Italian and very few words of English. In hopes of bonding better when they found out I don't know any Italian, I told them my grandfather is Sicilian and they all got excited. One of them then started mocking the Sicilian accent in Italian. I felt like I was on some weird survival reality tv show. I thought to myself, at least I have a good sense of direction and I could always follow our path back to the hotel.
But lo and behold, after what seemed like forever, our camp came into sight. Relief. I just couldn't believe that they actually expected their average guests to be able to make such an effort to see the sunset.
We entered our camp and sat down around the low table on the ground where we were soon to have dinner. Jennat didn't come back for another 15-20 minutes. But she came back! Apparently there was an even larger dune to climb after the one where we left her, and even she couldn't do that.
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| The little speck at the top is Jennat |
Once night fell and we had our dinner, things started to pick back up. The stark silhouettes of the dunes up against the starry night sky which was incredibly beautiful and clear felt like I was in a painting. You could even see the milky bits of the Milky Way. The Italians were really funny, especially the one who's a chef and tried communicating with us with a lot of funny hand motions. There was one in particular who could speak English the best, and he told us they're from Tuscany. They even gave us their email address and invited us to be their guests whenever we want.
After dinner our guide and another guide and his two Dutch guests came to join us, ready to start playing some gnawa music for the nightly entertainment. As they walked out of the tent playing drums, there was a young boy with them carrying what appeared to be a cake. At first they were standing there playing music and singing for a while, and then he came over and put the "cake" in front of me. It turned out to be a lovely sand cake for my birthday! Shortly after everyone started singing "Happy Birthday" to me, in English.
After some more star gazing our guide showed us where our tents were and told us he'd wake us up in the morning for breakfast at sunrise.
When we closed the carpet door flap we noticed a really big dung beetle, to which Jennat said "oh no, you are not invited" and we shooed it away, hoping not to step on it in the dark.
Around 6 am, just a half an hour before the sunrise, we heard some noises above our tent. Jennat, hidden under her covers, whispered to me "Angela, what is that?" as if I'd know. Luckily there were posts in our tent because some cats thought it'd be a good idea to run along the rooftops, scaring the crap out of everyone and waking them up.
At 6:30 we set out to the nearest sand dune to sit and watch the sunrise before having breakfast and getting back on our dromedaries to head back.
As we were arriving back from our hour-long trek to the hotel, we were greeted by a waving Halima and Momo. We said goodbye to our new Italian friends and packed our things into our car, ready for the long haul back to Rabat.
Along our way we stopped at a cafe where I was immediately recognizable as a tourist, as I was the only caucasian/European looking person in sight. Everyone just kind of assumed I was French most of the time. When two kids walked past me once, a little one said "bonjour" to me. Another time when we were asking for directions and I was in the front seat while Momo was asking in Arabic, the lady apparently said "oh I wish I could've practiced my foreign languages," not expecting us to be speaking Arabic.
While we were at our table having coffee, the man at the table behind us smiled at me. Unsure of what this meant I kind of half-smiled back. Then about 5 minutes later he reached into one of the boxes he had and took out 4 dates, one for each of us. Since we were still pretty far south, the dates in the region are meant to be the absolute best tasting. Grateful for his offering, Momo ended up buying a box from him. I gave him a proper smile of thanks and a "merci" on my way out.
Although one of Morocco's official languages is French, there were some times where knowing French wasn't as helpful as knowing English. In the smaller villages the main language seemed to be just Arabic, although everything is written in both Arabic and French.
Back in Rabat after sunset, Jennat and I were finally able to take a shower and put on makeup before meeting up with her dad for dinner and wine at his soon-opening restaurant on the beach called La Plage. It was kind of a preview night for her dad and a bunch of important people from the city to get a feel for the restaurant that would soon be opening. I definitely met some interesting people that night, and I was at least able to use my French again.
The next day, Saturday, was our last day in Rabat before Jennat and I had our early-morning flight from Casablanca to Lyon Sunday. Needless to say we had a lot of shopping to do and errands to run.
We started our morning off with some exercise with Jennat's dad along the ocean side. We went on a 2-hour walk during which Jennat showed me the house where she grew up and her old neighborhood which has an outstanding view of the ocean.
After a shower we finally got out of the apartment around 3/4 pm and started making our way around town. We stopped to pick up her pants from the tailor's, I found a place to buy stamps for postcards, and then we went to the old marketplace again, in hopes of finding some souvenirs.
Jennat found some spices she wanted to bring back to France because they're a lot cheaper in Morocco. I found a rug, some delicious Moroccan cookies, and some small souvenirs for my family/friends.
After the market we stopped by Jennat's grandma's place to say goodbye and then headed over to La Plage again for dinner. Then we met up with some of Jennat's friends at a latino bar where they played songs like "Waka Waka," "Ai Se Eu Te Pego," and others I recognized from my glory days in Global Village. It was a nice, relaxing way to end my stay there in Morocco.
Back in Rabat I found a copy of Momo's autobiography with a written dedication to me on the front page.
I unfortunately didn't get to say a real goodbye to Halima and Momo because we had to be up at 5:30 to catch our cab to Casablanca. We had spent a good part of the previous day trying to figure out the daylight savings time change and if it would affect our flight. After concluding it wouldn't since Morocco and France changed at the same time, we were expecting things to go smoothly. We didn't expect the cab driver to forget to change his clock and arrive an hour early. So we left at 4:30 in a daze, ready to sleep on the 2.5 hour flight back to Lyon, still amazed at how much we did in such a short time.
At the airport in Casablanca one of the workers at our gate was wearing a Packers hat. It's a small world.
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| Casablanca from the sky |
