Día Uno en Marruecos

(Me with a baby camel on the Atlantic Coast of Morocco)

We have an awful lot to talk about. I have a feeling that some of these Morocco posts will be close to book-length, but they will be terribly exciting book-length posts, and definitely worth every second.

I got out of class on Wednesday at 7:30 and didn't consciously realize that the bus left at 10, so I ended up having to book it back to Julia's, switch bags, and run to the bus station (literally, at times). I did make it in time and was in a good mood, because Baquita had packed me two gigantic sandwiches. I had left a note on the table before I left for class saying I was going to be in a hurry and just needed some food to carry with me. I thought I was going to come home to Julia yelling at me about organization and good planning, but instead, I found two sandwiches on the counter. I was relieved to say the least.

The bus ride to Algeciras was eight miserably uncomfortable hours. The BC girls in front of Lizzie and I insisted on pushing their seats back as far as they would go (the only thing that stopped them was our crunched-up knees that weren't going to smush any further). After very little sleep, we got to Algeciras at about 6 am and chilled at the bus station until we met up with our group leaders at 8. There were enough BC kids for two 12 person groups, so they started calling off the names of the first group. With each name that was called, I wanted more and more to be in the second group, and thankfully, I was. We were basically an awesome bunch of BC kids plus two ladies from Spain, and our tour leader, Arnd, of the introspective variety complete with German accent. He sounded just like Will Ferrell in "The Producers" and this thought often forced me to laugh at inappropriate moments. Say to yourself, "Does anyone want to climb the mountain and eat some cookies" in a German accent and you'll know what I mean.

Following Arnd, we all got on the ferry that would take us to Tangier. We passed Gibraltar while on the boat, which was nifty. I always pictured it as a cliff, but it's more like a separate mountain - go figure. Once we got to Tanier and were walking to the port, these Moroccan ladies that worked for the ferry company pointed these little white medical gadgets (think Star Trek) at us with no explanation. We were all a tad alarmed, but then one of the Spanish ladies explained that they were checking to see if we had swine flu. I didn't, no worries.

We then exchanged some euros for Dirhams, the currency in Morocco, and took off in our little bus for downtown Tangier. We walked through a food market, which was so classic it could have been at Disney World and then headed to the DARNA women's center. DARNA offers cheap language and skill classes to Moroccan women so that they can find jobs to help support their families. A person is considered illiterate in Morocco if they speak less than 2 languages, so most women take jobs in factories and sewing shops, which require less written and oral skills. Two students, Hajar and Khadija, gave us a tour and then we all sat down to Moroccan tea and cookies. Moroccan tea is wonderful - I didn't think I would like it, but it is wonderful. It is green tea with mint leaves and a lot of sugar. They drink a ton of it with every meal, and in my opinion, Morocco even smells like Moroccan tea. We had the chance to talk to the two students about women's rights in Morocco. Apparently, the current king, Mohammad VI, has given more rights to women, such as raising the marriage age from 15 to 18, decreeing that women must actually agree to a divorce, and allowing polygamy only if there is a really good reason. Whatever floats your boat, I say. We then headed downstairs for lunch, which was chicken tangin (chicken, potatoes, and green beans cooked to delectability). I was seriously enjoying the food in Morocco and am definitely attempting these recipes when I get home.

We then got back on the bus and drove along the Atlantic coast towards Asilah. We stopped at a scenic outlook to take pictures, and noticed that there were camels strolling around on the beach. We were all excited to take pictures of camels when Arnd said, "The camels are for you. Go ride the camels," (remember the accent). So we did! It was very exciting and I took many pictures. The only scary part was that to let you off, camels literally fall to their knees. Camels are very large and this fall is quite a drop. You really have to hang on during this process and many curse words were uttered by others in my group as their camels plummeted to the ground. I had the opposite problem, though. My camel was grumpy and refused to let me off. It took the two owners 5 minutes to get my camel to fall down and I was very nervous, because the camel was making angry sounds and I thought it was about to take off down the beach.

We got back on the bus and drove to Asilah, where we toured the town and heard the call to worship that all mosques perform 5 times a day. It's actually a pretty cool effect to hear all the mosques in a city reciting these ancient Arabic prayers. Very Moroccan.

After buying snacks for 10 Dirhams each (or 10 euro cents) we got back on the bus for a 3 hour drive to Rabat, the capital of Morocco. Groups of 2 or 3 of us each stayed with a different host family in Rabat, and about 5 minutes before we met the families, Arnd gave us a sheet of pleasantries in Arabic we could say to the family. The only problem was that these phrases really get repetitive after a while - there are only so many times you can say "Thank you" (shukran) or "Delicious" (bnin) in one sitting. After about 3 minutes, my Arabic really comes to a halt.

But anyway, Lizzie, Christine, and I were one group and when we got to our host family's house we were really excited to see a whole table full of pastries, breads, and Moroccan tea waiting for us. One of the Spanish ladies, Isabel (who speaks only Spanish - good practice for me), also joined us for meals, and we ate a lot. The Moroccan family then took us on a walk around the Medina (a market neighborhood) and when we came back, the table was set again, this time with a huge pasta dish in the middle. We had thought the first spread was dinner, but apparently that was just appetizers. Everyone else was worried about having to eat again, but by this point, I was considering moving in.

So we ate again and then the three of us girls went to bed. Moroccan houses are pretty nifty. There are usually 2 or 3 floors and an open-air center courtyard, with all the rooms around the sides. The bedrooms have long benches that wrap around the walls, with mattress-like cushions on top. These are couches during the day and beds at night. The walls have some pretty intense tile-work and the fabrics on the furniture were really elegant. The bathroom was upstairs, and luckily for us, it was fully operational and had a western-style toilet. The grandmother had her own room, and the mom and kids had another. I think the dad's and uncle's rooms were upstairs somewhere. The three of us girls passed out pretty quickly, and while two of us were concerned about going to bed on a full stomach (I still don't understand the problem) one of us was making mental notes to check house prices in Morocco (I'm really good at eating and then sleeping).