Lazy Weekend

Spent the weekend laying around the Medina watching alot of soccer and drinking alot of espresso. Friday night was great because, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I walked out of my room on my way to take a leak and the court yard was completely illuminated. I looked up and the moon was looking straight down back at me. It was beautiful, so I just sat in the court yard playing with my camera and the light.

Rabat Rain

Heavy rains in Rabat yesterday. Loved it even though it was definately to short. I wish it would rain for a day straight. The only thing that stinks when it rains are the streets. All that dry shit and urine that you can't see with the naked eye re-liquifies and stinks up the place. Its this stale, rotten dirt smell that evaporates off the slick tile roads. Smells are hard to describe. Thats all I can think of right now.

Southern Excursion 10/16-10/22

Getting out of Rabat after two long weeks was a wonderful respite from the monotony of my daily routine. We left really early Tuesday morning on another big tourist bus for a weeklong field trip circling the Atlas Mountains. Day one consisted of driving up to Azrou, a small town nestled in the foothills of the Middle Atlas Mountains. It’s home to the biggest forest in North Africa. We drove up to the forest and had a nice, somewhat boring picnic (same thing we always have: consisting of bread, cheese, olives, potato chips, jelly etc.) in the pine tress with Barbary Apes playing around. It was interesting to be in forest in a country that most people associate with desert. It was nice, but littered with trash that made the stay less aesthetic. We drove back down the hill and settled into our nice hotel above the town. That night some friends and I went for a walk only to be stalked by a police car with its lights off thinking it was being sneaky, and another police man following us on foot. It made us all kind of uneasy, so we headed back to the hotel. No one likes sketchy authority figures.



We woke up really early, and by really early I mean 7 o’clock, to start our first of many long drives. The drive from Azrou to the dunes of Erg Chebbi was beautiful. Starting north around the Middle Atlas, we then turned south and followed the edge of the mountains till we hit desert. Beautiful winding roads through dry but green treed hills reminded me of the drive from Lewiston to McCall, Idaho. This led us to a more arid drive to Rissani, where we stopped for a great lunch of Berber pizza; bread with carrots, egg, and other stuff cut up inside toasted. We then all got into Land Rovers and headed toward the Sahara. We peeled off the paved road at some random spot and headed straight for the dunes. Out of nowhere, villages and small communities started to popup out of what had seemed to be flat, black, rocky land. We dismounted the Land Rovers at our impressively nice hotel/guesthouse on the edge of the dunes, and were herded onto the forty or so camels patiently waiting to take us for a nice sunset stroll into the biggest desert on the planet. These camels were different from the ones I rode in the Gobi in Mongolia. They did not have the two humps and were not as big.



The desert is going to be very hard to explain in words, and the pictures only start to grasp at the expanse of nothingness that unfolds in front of you. Imagine a stormy sea of very fine red sand frozen at its angriest moment by the heat of the North African sun. You have swells of dunes rising up from a shore of black rock that lays to the west. It’s endless; as far as the eye can see, and even when you wander out and find the highest dune in your vicinity you look see another dune in the distance that’s taller. The air has a stale sandbox smell to it and there is no moisture to be had.



I wondered out the farthest to the east and found a high perch where I could enjoy the sunset with no noise from the group. Maggie and Asia came up and joined me 5 minutes later followed by a couple others who left the dune shortly after arriving. Maggie, Asia and I stayed up there as long as we could trying to soak in the breadth on the desert that lay around us. The Gobi had dunes, but they had mountains in the background dwarfing them and did not give the same semblance of vastness that these did.





We made our way back to the inn and stayed up late talking and wandering out into the desert in the pitch black. Scary. You feel like your in some sci-fi movie where a sand creature is going to silently pick each one of your friends off at a time until its just you with the flashlight….alone…….breathing…heavily….and then your flash lights dies and all you have for company is your breath….and then the creatures breath behind you…



Anyway, Henry, Mike, Kelsi, Dan, Steffa, Jules, Hong and I woke up around four in the morning and starting hiking out east into the dunes in search of a high perch to watch the sunrise from. After an hour or so of walking we thought we had found a nice spot. A year ago, I had streaked across the Gobi desert at sunset and thought I should keep the tradition alive. So, the boys de-robbed and ran out into nothingness with nothing. It’s a very freeing feeling when you are in such an empty expanse relatively alone with nothing on you. Its just you, the desert and the stars. It got cold so I ran back to my clothes. The other boys followed.



The drive from the dunes to Ouarzazate is flat out one of the most gorgeous desert mountain landscape I’ve ever seen. Huge ancient fault lines create big flat valleys with southern-Utahish looking swells on either side with palm groves cutting in and out of valleys. I am not going to spoil it for other, just go to Morocco and make the drive.





I woke up the next morning feeling really crummy. The only thing this day turned out to be for me was a painfully LONG haul up over the High Atlas to Marrakech. I threw up and was leaking out of my butt hole in the morning and the twisty, turny mountain roads just added to the problem. Midway through the day I had to pull the trigger again. I wish I could have enjoyed the views more because they were astounding. Looking forward to them in December when I make the drive with the family. The sickness passed and the next morning Hen, Mike and I would be walking around the city all day shopping the souks and drinking fresh squeezed orange juice.



Sunday, I woke up and felt much better. Mike, Hen and I set off to wander the souks of Marrakech. We walked up and down the crowded narrow streets, shopped and bargained, ended up bartering away a set of American playing cards to get a lower price on a present. Pretty funny. That night we had dinner at one of the MANY food stands in the Djemaa el Fan Square and washed it down with the delicious fresh squeezed orange juice. A lot of tourists in the city, but its got a great vibe.



The next morning we departed for Essouria stopping at an Argon oil commune where women work to produce different types of culinary and cosmetic oils. We moved on to the town, which sits in a nice bay on the coast with a big beach stretching down to the south. We played a big soccer game on the beach, which was super fun and everyone was really into it. Still sore from it…ha that’s sad.



The drive back to Rabat was uneventful, stopping in El Jadida for the same picnic on the beach.

So as you can tell I kind of lost steam on this blog….it’s long enough as it is. But it conveys the week pretty well. Exciting up until leaving Marrakech and then kind of blah.

Asilah

This past week seemed to crawl by, and I cannot believe it's only been seven days since the adventure to the falls of Ouzoud. This weekend I wanted to travel because I knew that next weekend was the end of Ramadan and supposedly it’s a huge party. I do not want to miss being with the family for that experience, so I flipped through the guidebook in search of an easily accessible destination with a beach and a beautiful town. Enter stage left: Asliah; A picturesque, small town that attracts a lot of tourists because of its clean-whitewashed medina streets, the old Portuguese ramparts surrounding the medina and a large amount of art; whether it be found in studios, on murals outside houses, or at the annual art/music festival held there every August. I wanted a relaxing weekend where we could find a beach and just walk around town and ‘be’ or read a book in a park.

My travel companions would again be my trusty sidekick Frenchman Henry accompanied by the lovely Asia and Maggie. I got Byron, a fellow CC student, to come along for the ride. We would conveniently be taking the train there from Rabat. The train ride there is a painless 4-hour ride for about 130 MDH round trip, which comes out to be about 14 bucks, and is direct with no stops or changes of trains needed, so it was a welcome change from last weekend. We got an early start Saturday morning leaving Rabat around 7:45 and sleeping/daydreaming most of the ride to Asilah. When we got off the train we hopped on the bus that brought us 2km into town. A clean, well laid out Nouvelle Ville (new town) with kids running around and fountains flowing welcomed us. We made our way to a nice budget hotel we had read about, but upon arrival passports where mandatory and of course most of us had left ours in Rabat. So, we wandered around finally finding a shadier hotel with stained sheets that would have to do.



We had read about a beach called Paradise beach that boasted of clean sand, no people and a nice 3 km hike along the coast to get to it. Sounded perfect. So we got changed, and started walking along the rampart wall of the medina to the southern end of town where we found the road/path that led along the coast. The hike was beautiful; traversing up and over ridges along the coast, looking down on the crashing waves against the sandstone cliffs and watching fishermen cast their lines into the ocean. We had a little picnic on top of one of the ridges. About two and half hours later and after what was more like 5km, we crested the final ridge and the beach laid out before us. It reminded me very much of the Oregon coast. The beach was long and broad and turned out to be the flattest beach I’d ever been on. The sand was very fine and you could walk out into the water for 100 yards before it would get to deep to stand. We played in the waves and body surfed for a bit. It was getting close to 6 and we knew that if we didn’t want to walk back the way we came we would need to find a ride back to town. After negotiating with a buggy driver we hopped on a horse drawn buggy for a bumpy, but great ride, back to town. We made our way along a dirt road for 20 minutes and then onto a paved road. The highlight was when I saw a man herding his sheep with the help of a Portuguese water dog! Lisbon! Made me miss my dog, but it was great to see a dog move and run the way my dog does.









Spent the evening at an overpriced, small-portioned restaurant, which I don’t really have much to say about. Went to a café with Henry where we enjoyed our regular Fanta Citron while watching Espanoyla beat Valencia. Played some cards in the hotel room and hit the hay after a long but good day.



We all slept in except Bryon. When we finally did wake up the sun was shinning, and we felt rested. We made our way to the ramparts and the entrance of the medina. This medina was the cleanest one I have been to so far and was beautifully painted. We had an espresso and made our way through small streets with interesting murals. The ambience of the town was perfect and calm, and you were always excited to see what kind of mural or paint job the building around the corner would have. We came to this house with a painting of hundred of little black figures called “The Tree of Life”: I think it was my favorite mural.









We had to catch the 2:45 train home so we went back the hotel packed up and decided to walk to the train station. Started reading Al Gore’s new book The Assault on Reason and I have to say I think it’s a good and important read for anyone concerned about the current state of politics and democracy in our country. A very intelligent and well-researched man with important things to say, take a look.

Casa-Blah-ca

I was looking so much forward to having a long night sleep Tuesday night. We were going to Casablanca the next day in small groups to explore the city on our own, and we weren’t meeting at the train station until 10, perfect. Of course, Tuesday night was also a night were my mind would not stop running with constant thoughts of impending; ISP topics, loved ones, my ‘future’ and of course….doom. Ok, I am joking about the doom, but I had a lot going though my head and couldn’t get the sustained shuteye I was hoping for.

Woke up groggy eyed and put on the same pants and shirt I had been wearing for the past two days because the washing machine had been acting up and decided to die at the perfect moment when I had no clean shirts left or shorts. If West Africa taught me anything, its that hand washing clothes is a horrible chore, I wish upon no human being. I have never been so sore in my life than after the first time I hand washed a load of laundry. Ok, also another gross exaggeration but its tough, and I would rather wear the same shirt until the machine got fixed. There I said it.

I made my way down Mohammad V with unusual ease. Usually, I walk the boulevard at less opportune times when the crowds make it slow going. I was the first to get to our meeting spot and soon was joined by Michael and Kelsi, Henry and then Danny. We were going to be taking the train to Casablanca. The train system in Morocco is very easy and similar to the European lines, just not as fast. Countless games of 13 were played as the train rolled through the relatively uninteresting landscape that connects Rabat and Casa.



The train dropped us off at the port, which is in the city, and we started walking up a broad avenue toward what looked like a more central point of town. The buildings and apartments are the biggest I have seen since Paris and the only semblance of an old city was the median wall we were walking along. An old man said hello in English and then proceeded to try and sell me some hash, charming town.



Disillusioned already, we made our way to the Hyatt because we knew we would be able to get a coffee or orange juice there, it being Ramadan and all. After over priced orange juice and espresso, Mike, Kelsi and I took a cab to the Villa des Arts. It turned out to be under construction. Cool. So, we walked for a while trying unsuccessfully to get a cab for the longest time and finally making our way to the Hassan II Mosque.





The mosque is the biggest in Morocco, and has the tallest minaret in the world. It sits beautifully out on a point jutting into the ocean and hold hundreds of thousands of people for prayer. It was pretty impressive. On a relatively interesting note, the 13-year project to build the mosque was subsidized by forced donations from the people of Morocco, and, as a result of the loss of extra spending money that people had, the inflation rates dropped significantly in Morocco for a prolonged period of time. (see the comment at the bottom for another interesting tibit contributed by Jared Koch)



After that, we decided to walk by “Rick’s” café, a new café built four years ago based on the famous café in that Woody Allen movie made way back in the stone age right?.......anyone?.....Bueller?……jokes. The menu was again over priced, so we moved on preferring to eat at the McDonald’s.



We had had enough, and it was starting to rain more so we decided to call it a day and get back on the train. We were glad to b leaving Casa and knew that a more charming city awaited us up north. Basically, what I took away from the day was that Casa is a dirty European city that lacks its own charm and happens to be located in North Africa. Oh and that the Hassan II Mosque is big and beautiful and unique. If you come to Morocco spend your time somewhere else, you wont miss much. Blah

Cascades D'Ouzoud

With our first REAL free weekend approaching, I wanted to do something adventurous and in the hills. I wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle that comes with visiting cities and just hike around with friend or alone and breath clean air.

My new American friends Mike, Henry, Brittany, Asia and Maggie were all on board to visiting the Cascades of Ouzoud, the biggest falls in Morocco, and although a very popular destination at peak season, we would be able to enjoy it without the crowds of August. The falls are around three hundred feet high and funnel into a river at the bottom that creates swimming pools and smaller falls for miles down stream.

One big problem for students is figuring out how to get places with both convenience and budget in mind. I had been pushing the idea of renting a small car and packing all six of us in because of the ability to go at our own pace. As it turned out, it was the cheapest of three options we had which were rental, Grand Taxi, and a bus / Grand Taxi combo. So, with the rental we got what we were looking for, convenience and budget. The entire weekend ended up costing us 61 bucks US for transportation, gas, food, lodging, not bad at all and totally worth every penny. We understood the added risk of traveling on the road in a country we did not know, but the pros outweighed the cons. We left Rabat late Friday afternoon and immediately upon leaving the city and getting on the auto route we got pulled over for no other reason than for a cop to just hassle a group of six American students. We talked ourselves out of a 400 MDH ticket (around 50 bucks) and continued on our way. Police stops were pretty commonplace throughout the weekend and we became comfortable with them realizing the cops weren’t going to do anything to us.

We had a small four door sedan with two up front and three in the back with Maggie, the smallest, laying over the three or wedged in the middle between Asia or Brittany’s legs. The ride there took 6 hours. She was a trooper. The drive there took us through the outskirts of Casablanca through flat, rolling, dry hills and many small towns. At one point we were navigating through a bigger town Khouribga and the signs ran out leading us to our next checkpoint when I spotted a white sign (white signs are the ones that point out towns) with Arabic and read the name of the city we were looking for! It was an exciting step forward in starting to understand the language. The whole car confirmed the sighting and the spelling, cheered and we headed on.

The drove soon changed as the sun set and we entered the mountains of the Middle Atlas. Hairpin turns; dodging cows and boar, passing slower cars led us to an amazing overlook where the moon illuminated a reservoir. Dams are very important to the countries water supply so reservoirs have popped up all over the country. The sight was beautiful but we all wanted to get to Ouzoud and still had more driving to do so we pressed on.

Arriving in Ouzoud, we found a humble camping spot with two straw shacks in the back with a mat over the dirt floor. It was perfect. The owner of the campsite generously made us a tangine of tomatoes, onions and egg. It was perfect. We took one shack for all six of us to conserve heat and money. We had all brought heavy blankets from our families in Rabat and thankfully because the nights were chilly.





We woke up, took breakfast of bread, cheese and jam that we had packed and made our way to the falls. Basically the day unfolded into making our way down to the main falls, sitting playing cards at the base for a bit while we waiting for the girls to join us, and then heading off down stream in search of the perfect swimming hole. We hiked for a half an hour and found a nice hole all to ourselves were we hung out, ate, and even swam under a waterfall into a cave. We decided to move on further downstream and see what else we could find.







About thirty more minutes hiking later, we stumbled upon THE perfect swimming hole. It was cleaner water (not as muddy), deeper and had a thirty-five foot cliff. We spent the remainder of the afternoon jumping, flipping and swimming around in that water hole. It’s hard to go into more detail because it was just a great afternoon swimming around in the mountains of Morocco. The water was cold, but refreshing because of the heat.









That night we had a delicious meal in a restaurant with an amazingly genuine atmosphere. All the men were eating Fetor (breaking the fast) when we walked in; the owner kindly stopped his eating, insisted on seating us and having food prepared. We told him we wanted to wait until he had finished his meal, but he was very persistent and even offered us some of their meal. We generously declined, but sat and waited more the soup, couscous, chicken tangine and lamb tangine that was served. It was a feast and after the men started to play music and dance. Everyone joined in as Mike, Henry, and I enjoyed music while playing cards again.

We made our way back to our shack and fell asleep. The morning came slowly and we packed up for the drive home. On the drive home we passed a small village and realized it was Sunday (market day) on our right was a huge market set up, so we parked the car and walked through it briefly. The parked mules and donkeys outnumbered the parked cars about 10 to 1. By parked mule, I mean a mule with his foot tied to a spike hammered into the ground. We took a different, more scenic way home and made back in time to break fast with the family.