Día Tres en Marruecos

(A rural home in the Rif Mountains of Morocco)

After waking up and eating breakfast (there was no need to shower after the previous night's excursion), Lizzie, Christine, and I said goodbye to our host family and headed off to meet the rest of the group. We packed ourselves into our little van and headed for the Rif Mountains. We stopped at a scary, hole-in-the-floor bathroom (those things require way too much effort), while Arnd went to the local market to buy us more snacks (we are a demanding group). He returned with freshly-baked bread, figs, bananas, and of course, cookies. Yay for Arnd!

When we got closer to the mountains, we met up with a Moroccan friend of Arnd's, whose home (which is in a rural village in the mountains) we were visiting that afternoon. The only reason there was a road to the village was that the family's grandmother petitioned the government about the necessity of being able to get women to the hospital when they were in labor. We drove through the village, stopping to look at the communal well, and then took a short hike through the mountains to the family's home. After introductions, we helped the family prepare lunch by washing and cutting vegetables, arranging food on plates, and setting everything out on a mat they had spread under one of their olive trees. I was in a jumpy mood as their patio seemed to be infested with bees that seemed to be chasing me. Fortunately, the bee conditions were much better on the mat and I was able to calm myself down. We ate bread, vegetables, nuts, figs, dates, grapes, moroccan tea, cookies, and huge bowls of couscous.

We chatted for two hours about marriage differences between the West and Morocco. The conversation was mostly between Arnd and the men in the family, but it seemed to be generally agreed upon that the desired qualities in a Moroccan husband are a big heart and a big wallet (the women spoke up when asked and added their two cents, as well). After this talk, the Moroccan family took out their drums, and gave us a performance of traditional Moroccan music and singing. Arnd made us all dance, and we looked like flailing fools, but it was a good time and I think the family enjoyed our attempts at coordination.

We then just chilled for a while, playing with the kids of the family, looking at the olive press (many Moroccan families sell olive oil for income), and taking pictures. We then said goodbye and headed back to the bus and drove to Chefchaouen, a city near the mountains. We checked into our hostel/hotel - Hotel Jasmina, and then had three hours to walk around the Medina. Lizzie, Christine, Don, and I wandered together and had a really good time. It was dark by the time were walking around, but there were still lots of people (and kids especially) hanging out in the narrow, winding streets. We did some souvenir shopping, which takes talent in Morocco if you don't want to be ripped off. Bartering is expected and shop-owners will always quote you a price that's about five times too high. If you come off as American, your price will be about 10 times too high, so we decided to barter in Spanish, which turned out to be a really good strategy (Moroccans generally speak Moroccan Arabic, French, Spanish, and English). I turned out to be pretty good at the not-getting-ripped-off thing despite my being pretty nervous. The first thing I tried to buy was a bracelet which the store owner said was 150 Dirhams. I suggested 20 Dirhams, and then after a bit of back-and-forth, 30 Dirhams (3 euros). He didn't seem to be budging from his lowered 90 Dirhams, and I'm stubborn, too, so I left. I was about two blocks away when he came running up to me with the bracelet and offering it to me for 30 Dirhams. Muchos gracias, I said. We wandered some more and got lost, and in our attempts to get back, passed that same store about three more times. He invited us in on our third time around and was trying to get Lizzie to buy some bracelets. We started chatting, and he showed us pictures of himself when he lived in the Sahara. Then he wrapped us up in turbans and we got a kick out of that. He also gave us directions back to the main plaza, and as we were heading in that direction we ran into one of the Peace Corps volunteers, who suggested that we try the snack from the food vendor we were standing next to. We did (it was some sort of egg-pastry desert) and, of course, I thought it was great. As we were eating, a traditional wedding procession walked by, (which is essentially a rowdy parade) so that was cool to see.

We then met up with the rest of the group for dinner at Cafe Aladdin. We were seated upstairs on the outdoor patio with a view of the city. You could see all the white and blue houses that made up the town and hear all of the bustle of the city, even though it was about 9:30 pm. For dinner I had a Moroccan tomato soup, and chicken pastilla. Now this chicken pastilla deserves some attention. It was simply amazing. The dish consisted of spiced chicken wrapped in filo dough and topped with sugar and a ton of cinnamon. I know this sounds like a weird combination, but that's exactly why I ordered it and I was so glad I did. Fantastic. Marvelous. Delectable. I wish I had one right now. Then after tea and cookies we headed back to the hostel where Arnd said, "I have a surprise for you!" We all guessed it was cookies, but it wasn't. We all crowded into his room and sat down around some candles he had set up. Our surprise was a talk about our feelings. How very German. He also gave us each a piece of crystallized sand and a little block of musk that smells just like Morocco. After we were done exploring the depths of our emotions, Lizzie and I headed out again to finish some gift-buying. We didn't stay out very long and came back to a "snuggle-fest" with all the BC kids. I think we were exhausted and not thinking straight by this point. After a few minutes of that, we all went to our designated beds and curled up for the night.