The Marrakesh Express

July 6, 2012

Train travel in Morocco was quite inexpensive and efficient with beautiful stations. We decided to upgrade in advance for a few extra dollars to a First Class compartment for the long trip between Rabat and Marrakesh (not quite as romantic as "The Marrakesh Express" of Crosby, Stills, and Nash, but just as eye opening).

In our six seated compartment were four to five women; a family of four consisting of a grandmother and her daughter,traditionally garbed, not veiled, another older daughter in western dress with her attractive eighteen year old daughter in tight, metal-studded jeans and sleeveless top. A fifth older unrelated woman in traditional dress entered the cabin at the next station. The eighteen year old and her aunt spoke English, the others French, but they could also pick up on some English words. There we sat with the two older women reading their Koran's, later one on her Kindle, and the two younger ones on their smart phones. This was going to be a long trip, or so I thought.

Talking to people about their smart phones was always a good way to start a conversation, especially about how much they pay. So it began.

When I mentioned that I had fasted during entire Ramadan and worked with Muslim exchange program,YES, the conversation suddenly came to life with all involved, speaking in tongues of French, English, Arabic, Berber, and who knows what else, veritable Babel.

What became clear to Mary and me was their desire to make clear to us the differences between good and bad Muslims, as well as, between good and bad translations and interpretations of the Koran. These all were intelligent, well-educated women trying to understand us as we were trying to understand them.

After exchanging email addresses and all getting off at Marrakesh, Mary and I tried to grasp what we had just experienced. How easy for us to mistake what we perceive to be overly-covered, outwardly withdrawn and suppressed women while they probably took us as being immodest and garrulous. How difficult it was to understand a different culture. How easy it was to jump to generalizations.

Rabat

July 4-5, 2012

Rabat is the capital city on the coast Morocco with about 2.5 million. Compared to the chaos of Casablanca and Tangier, Rabat is staid and organized.

Our top floor room at the old French era Hotel Royal in the center of Rabat has a wonderful patio overlooking a park. This follows my pathetic pleas after being shown our first "rat's nest" room.
Other than our continuing trip-long shortage of toilet paper, the place had a touch of aged elegance.

Moroccans don't readily talk about their own politics. Although technically a democracy (aren't they all?), it is ruled by a king, Mohammed VI who follows his somewhat notorious father, Hassen II, and the "Years of Lead". This quiet student lead street demonstartion is about freeing people jailed without trail for expressing their opposition to the government.

Note: Morocco is considered a non-NATO ally of the U.S.

Moroccan Weddings, Assilah

July 5, 2012

The main activity in Morocco during the day is sitting and drinking tea.
It is the night when all comes alive!

Moroccan summer is wedding time. The night is filled with blaring Moroccan horns and drums as wedding processions march down the streets. The procession is led by a man holding a shelf of wheat followed by a line of male dancers.

Next comes the bride being carried aloft in a veiled carriage.

Finally, girls and women trail behind yelling well wishes to the bride.

The receptionist at the hotel desk describes European/American weddings as quiet affairs. How right she is!

We can't get any sleep.
The only thing to do is join the parade in our pajamas.

Exhaustion

July 5, 2012
Exhaustion is one of those words you don't read about in travel magazines. Jet-lag, yes, as a form of being tired, but exhaustion is just too exhausting a subject to handle.

There are two types of exhaustion; one physical, the other mental.

The physical exhaustion comes about from lack of routine. There are the common causes like lack of sleep, moving your bags from one place to another, irregular eating times and foods.

Mental exhaustion is harder to overcome. It is dealing with the strangeness of a place, the customs you expect, but don't get or others don't respond. It is turning a corner to find you are suddenly lost and those you seek direction have no idea what you are talking about, or will help you for a fee. It is planning your next step and wondering whether taking another step is really worth the effort.

Yet, it is knowing that exhaustion awaits you which makes it all the more adventuresome. 

The Sheltering Sky

July 4, 2012

One of my favorite books is "The Sheltering Sky" by Paul Bowles. The story is about a group of wandering Americans in Morocco. They have no real schedule or planned destinations. They just wander without purpose. The story has always intrigued me and may be the reason for my desire to visit Morocco.

Here we are like the characters in the book, just wandering with no real destination, other than to catch a plane for the return trip (which the characters never do). There is a strangeness about drums beating all night until dawn outside our window, restaurants not being open until 8:00pm, women in all sorts of dress, the streets overflowing at night, and language misunderstandings. It is not frightening, just strange.

Assilah

July 2, 2012

Assilah is a small resort town south of Tangiers on the Atlantic Coast. It looks like a Greek town with bright whitewashed buildings, but with a typical walled medina found throughout Morocco. The mayor boasts that it is clean like a Swiss town. This is the case where tourists and we are located. The women really like it. The town is a favorite of rich Moroccans who own the houses within the old city.

Since Assilah has nice beaches, cool breezes, and wine served in some of the restaurants, we plan to stay 3-4 nights.

 Part of Assilah's wall

Hanna and Mary enjoying a relaxing stroll

On the ramparts

Paradise Beach

July 3, 2012

While I "rested", Mary and Hanna took off to fabled Paradise Beach a few miles from town for a swim (Mary forgot the bottoms of her bathing suit) and a seaside lunch.

 The way down to the beach when  you don't take the more expensive cab.

The journey down is best told by Mary.

Part of Paradise Beach

 Camels by the sea

 Mama camel with babies and extra luggage