Before beginning this post I want to let you know that I won’t be recounting everything I experienced during my trip to Morocco. My role as a blogger for IAU is not to report on the status of the world and I will not be doing that here. However, I will share with you some of the highlights of my excursion to hopefully show you a bit of the culture of the beautiful people of North Africa.
Arrival:
I flew into Fes on the 28th of June and I stepped out of the plane into a blazingly dry 35-degree heat from the pounding late afternoon sun. I followed the crowd of people being herded into the “arrivée” section of the airport. I handed security my passport, got it stamped and continued on into the building where I was given a new sim card for my phone. Finding this very curious I asked why I was getting this and was given the ominous explanation of “if you are in an emergency or get your phone stolen we can track it”. I hesitantly thanked the young woman who gave it to me and continued on in. I soon met my ride to the hostel and 30 minutes later I was checking in at La bague de Kenza in the Medina in Fes. There, I was introduced to a man by the name of Fouad, who would soon become my most trusted and reliable contact as well as my best friend in Morocco. He welcomed me in, toured me around, showed me my room and explained that I was now part of his family, not just his guest. In my mind I thought “sure, whatever”, but this was the first time anyone had truly backed up this bold statement. For example, after unpacking a bit I decided to head back downstairs to ask Fouad what I should do for dinner, to which he responded that he would gladly make me a traditional Moroccan dish. I said hell yea and he was off to prepare a chicken and vegetable tanjine with a traditional Moroccan starter salad of chilled tomatoes and eggplant. While this was already above and beyond what I expected from the owner of my hostel, he then came back to talk while the food was cooking. I explained that I was a student currently studying in France. I mentioned that I was interested in learning languages, one of them being Arabic. When he heard this his face lit up. I was then given a good forty-five minute lecture on the Arabic alphabet and some basic phrases, afterwards, with my new found languages skills, I told him شكر (“shokran”- thank you). Following the lecture I was presented with my dinner that, while scalding hot, was absolutely delicious.
Arrival:
I flew into Fes on the 28th of June and I stepped out of the plane into a blazingly dry 35-degree heat from the pounding late afternoon sun. I followed the crowd of people being herded into the “arrivée” section of the airport. I handed security my passport, got it stamped and continued on into the building where I was given a new sim card for my phone. Finding this very curious I asked why I was getting this and was given the ominous explanation of “if you are in an emergency or get your phone stolen we can track it”. I hesitantly thanked the young woman who gave it to me and continued on in. I soon met my ride to the hostel and 30 minutes later I was checking in at La bague de Kenza in the Medina in Fes. There, I was introduced to a man by the name of Fouad, who would soon become my most trusted and reliable contact as well as my best friend in Morocco. He welcomed me in, toured me around, showed me my room and explained that I was now part of his family, not just his guest. In my mind I thought “sure, whatever”, but this was the first time anyone had truly backed up this bold statement. For example, after unpacking a bit I decided to head back downstairs to ask Fouad what I should do for dinner, to which he responded that he would gladly make me a traditional Moroccan dish. I said hell yea and he was off to prepare a chicken and vegetable tanjine with a traditional Moroccan starter salad of chilled tomatoes and eggplant. While this was already above and beyond what I expected from the owner of my hostel, he then came back to talk while the food was cooking. I explained that I was a student currently studying in France. I mentioned that I was interested in learning languages, one of them being Arabic. When he heard this his face lit up. I was then given a good forty-five minute lecture on the Arabic alphabet and some basic phrases, afterwards, with my new found languages skills, I told him شكر (“shokran”- thank you). Following the lecture I was presented with my dinner that, while scalding hot, was absolutely delicious.
Not the greatest picture, but a view up out of the sunroof from inside the hostel
The terrace at La bague de Kenza
Some of the spectacular views from the terrace
My notes from the Arabic crash course
Day 2:
Before heading off to bed that night, I noticed a flier in the lobby of the hostel explaining a local tourist attraction, spending a night in the Sahara desert. While I normally avoid tourist attractions, as they tend to be over priced and over hyped, I couldn’t help but think this was an awesome opportunity. What cemented my decision was that I asked Fouad about the expedition and he gave me nothing but positive reviews. He explained that I would be staying with the local Berber people, who were originally the nomads of the Sahara and who developed a rich culture from the sand, the sun, the solidarity and the camels. He explained that he was a Berber himself and spends as much time as he can with his Berber family. He showed me pictures of these precious moments in his past, recounting fondly his past experiences with the life he seemed to miss so much. After hearing the longing in his voice, and seeing the photographs of him playing music, cooking traditional food and sleeping under an unimaginably clear sky, I was sold before I even heard the price (MISTAKE: don’t do that, check the price first).
So, on the morning of day 2, I got into a red four-door sedan that I would be spending the next 7 hours in on my way to one of the most remote places in the world. While long drives aren’t really my thing, I must say that I got a great view of the Moroccan country side, and I got to see things (such as the redwood forest, local monkeys, and an old river valley turned forest) that not many people get to see.
Before heading off to bed that night, I noticed a flier in the lobby of the hostel explaining a local tourist attraction, spending a night in the Sahara desert. While I normally avoid tourist attractions, as they tend to be over priced and over hyped, I couldn’t help but think this was an awesome opportunity. What cemented my decision was that I asked Fouad about the expedition and he gave me nothing but positive reviews. He explained that I would be staying with the local Berber people, who were originally the nomads of the Sahara and who developed a rich culture from the sand, the sun, the solidarity and the camels. He explained that he was a Berber himself and spends as much time as he can with his Berber family. He showed me pictures of these precious moments in his past, recounting fondly his past experiences with the life he seemed to miss so much. After hearing the longing in his voice, and seeing the photographs of him playing music, cooking traditional food and sleeping under an unimaginably clear sky, I was sold before I even heard the price (MISTAKE: don’t do that, check the price first).
So, on the morning of day 2, I got into a red four-door sedan that I would be spending the next 7 hours in on my way to one of the most remote places in the world. While long drives aren’t really my thing, I must say that I got a great view of the Moroccan country side, and I got to see things (such as the redwood forest, local monkeys, and an old river valley turned forest) that not many people get to see.
Lots of driving
The old river valley
I was grateful to arrive at Merzouga, a touristy town on the edge of the Sahara, where the next part of my journey would begin. I was introduced to my Berber guide who would take me on a 40 minute camel ride into the desert and to the camp where we would spend the night.
I had never ridden an animal before. I may have tried to ride my dog when I was little but it didn’t turn out quite as I had expected. But this was different. The camel lied down, I hoped onto its back, my guide slapped it on the butt and I rose quickly into the air, as if I were a backpack. The power of the camel was incredible and I could now, at least for a few seconds, understand why riding horses and other such animals was seen as enjoyable. This was, however, until I realized after about 10 minutes that it kinda hurts, and after about 30 minutes my groin wasn’t having it anymore. Aside from a bit of discomfort, I found the ride very enjoyable. I felt a little bit ridiculous as I’m a freckly kid from Seattle pretending like I know how to ride this beast. Something here (me) just seemed out of place. That said the ride was very peaceful. There were long stretches without conversation; the only noise was the occasional grunt from the camel or the shifting of the sand. I could truly understand why some people felt so connected with the desert; it is a place without outside interactions, and one that is profoundly beautiful.
I had never ridden an animal before. I may have tried to ride my dog when I was little but it didn’t turn out quite as I had expected. But this was different. The camel lied down, I hoped onto its back, my guide slapped it on the butt and I rose quickly into the air, as if I were a backpack. The power of the camel was incredible and I could now, at least for a few seconds, understand why riding horses and other such animals was seen as enjoyable. This was, however, until I realized after about 10 minutes that it kinda hurts, and after about 30 minutes my groin wasn’t having it anymore. Aside from a bit of discomfort, I found the ride very enjoyable. I felt a little bit ridiculous as I’m a freckly kid from Seattle pretending like I know how to ride this beast. Something here (me) just seemed out of place. That said the ride was very peaceful. There were long stretches without conversation; the only noise was the occasional grunt from the camel or the shifting of the sand. I could truly understand why some people felt so connected with the desert; it is a place without outside interactions, and one that is profoundly beautiful.
My guide with my camel
The Sahara and our shadows
We reached camp a few hours before dark and I found myself the only non-Berber there. Experiencing a bit of culture shock I wished that my fellow western folk would arrive soon, and that they did. About 30 minutes later I greeted to camp five Francophiles, who consisted of three students from around Paris, an Italian, and an Algerian, all of who were very friendly. After a bit of an awkward beginning, we were offered tea (Berber whiskey; A mix of mint tea, green tea and sugar) and local almonds. We sat together, munched and slurped, and traded philosophies under the Moroccan sunset. At this moment I truly found some peace. I found that these people, all of whom were different nationalities than me, older than me, and had a different native tongue than me, were actually no different than me. They were from a more privileged part of the world, they knew it, but they didn’t try to hide behind it. Instead they decided to spend a night in the sand and grit, eating a meal cooked in a tent, all for the chance to “faire la connaisance” with a foreign culture. Immediately I realized that they were my kind of people.
My tent and the center piece of the camp, Mr. Camelskull
Taken from atop the highest sand dune I could find. There were multiple camps, ours was second from the right
Once the Berbers joined us, we spent the next five hours eating, talking, reflecting, philosophizing, playing music, joking, telling riddles and in general just enjoying ourselves. I found it interesting the languages being spoken. The main one was French, however one of the Berbers spoke much better Spanish and would often respond to questions in Spanish. To that the French and Algerians struggled to understand, however the Italian and I could understand him. I would respond to him in French and the Italian would respond in Italian and he understood each perfectly. We had a triangle of languages going on that I found fascinating, and as a student of international relations, my globalization bells were ringing.
Eventually the night wore on and our fatigue set in. We collapsed onto on our backs, gazing up to the pitch-black sky, marveling at the number of stars present before us. At one point, I counted three comets cutting across the night sky, all within a few seconds of each other.
Eventually the night wore on and our fatigue set in. We collapsed onto on our backs, gazing up to the pitch-black sky, marveling at the number of stars present before us. At one point, I counted three comets cutting across the night sky, all within a few seconds of each other.
The Berbers playing music
And me pretending like I do...
Soon sleep drifted over us and many in the camp began snoring. The insomniac that I am, I was still a ways away from drifting off and I remained awake. Late in the night, I noticed the wind picking up, it soon got to the point were I was forced away from the night sky and back into my tent. Not long after I began seeing bright flashes of light accompanied by very deep crashing, clacking and clapping sounds. In my naivety I thought, “wow, who brought all these fireworks out here?” But it soon became clear that it was lighting that I was seeing and I was about to get a good view of a Moroccan thunderstorm. Clouds soon blocked out the remaining stars and the wind intensified. The time between the flashes and the booms shortened as well, indicating that the storm was moving ever closer. At one point the flashes and bangs were almost simultaneous, meaning the storm was right above us. At this time we began to get rain and strong wind that brought with it the sand from the surrounding dunes. Even though I couldn’t see anything aside from flashes, I was in awe. At one point, there was about a lightning strike every 3 to 5 seconds with winds that threatened to bring our reinforced tents to the ground. All I could do was marvel at this moment in my life. Somehow I, some red-headed kid from the upper-left corner of the U.S., found himself in the middle of a powerful Saharan thunderstorm, sharing this bizarre experience with a bunch of Francophiles and Berbers whom I had met merely hours before. All I could do was laugh and enjoy the rain in the scorched sand that is the Sahara.
The next morning we awoke before dawn, scarfed down a breakfast of bread, olives, fruit spread and tea, and scrambled up the biggest sand dune to sit and watch the sunrise over the Saharan skyline. Again I found the peace that I had experienced while trekking through the desert the day before on top of that powerful animal. I was taken by the silence and serenity of the scene and no one spoke as no words needed to be said. This pause passed quickly and it was soon time to begin my journey back to civilization.
The next morning we awoke before dawn, scarfed down a breakfast of bread, olives, fruit spread and tea, and scrambled up the biggest sand dune to sit and watch the sunrise over the Saharan skyline. Again I found the peace that I had experienced while trekking through the desert the day before on top of that powerful animal. I was taken by the silence and serenity of the scene and no one spoke as no words needed to be said. This pause passed quickly and it was soon time to begin my journey back to civilization.
My breakfast with the Berbers, simply yet surprisingly good
Trying to watch the sunrise on a cloudy Saharan morning
Day 3 and Departure:
After getting back to Merzouga, much of my third day was spent in a car heading back to Fes. I was exhausted from the day before and felt myself slipping away into sleep during much of the car ride.
We arrived back to the friendly Fouad who asked all about the trip. He was delighted to hear that I enjoyed myself and demanded that he make me dinner again, to which I replied once more, hell yes. This time he accompanied me while I ate his spectacular beef and kafka tanjine. We sat in the living room, watching a French television station covering Egyptian and American news. We watched as the protests against Mohammed Morsi intensified and as Barrack Obama visited South Africa during the NSA wiretapping scandal. Fouad and I chatted politics and he said that he really appreciated America, to which I was greatly surprised. He said that he was grateful for our democracy and our freedoms, as they showed the world that this kind of life was possible. I reassured him that we do have a lot of problems, but he remained adamant that we were a good country with a great leader. I couldn’t help but admit that overall we Americans have it pretty good, and that he should try to make the trip someday if he could. Maybe up to that northwestern corner, the one that I call home. He replied with a wishful “someday” and an إن شاء الله (“inch Allah”- God willing)
After getting back to Merzouga, much of my third day was spent in a car heading back to Fes. I was exhausted from the day before and felt myself slipping away into sleep during much of the car ride.
We arrived back to the friendly Fouad who asked all about the trip. He was delighted to hear that I enjoyed myself and demanded that he make me dinner again, to which I replied once more, hell yes. This time he accompanied me while I ate his spectacular beef and kafka tanjine. We sat in the living room, watching a French television station covering Egyptian and American news. We watched as the protests against Mohammed Morsi intensified and as Barrack Obama visited South Africa during the NSA wiretapping scandal. Fouad and I chatted politics and he said that he really appreciated America, to which I was greatly surprised. He said that he was grateful for our democracy and our freedoms, as they showed the world that this kind of life was possible. I reassured him that we do have a lot of problems, but he remained adamant that we were a good country with a great leader. I couldn’t help but admit that overall we Americans have it pretty good, and that he should try to make the trip someday if he could. Maybe up to that northwestern corner, the one that I call home. He replied with a wishful “someday” and an إن شاء الله (“inch Allah”- God willing)
My final meal in Fes- Beef and Kafka Tanjine with olives, bread and Berber Whiskey
I left for the airport the next morning, thankful to be heading back to a familiar country and to my old routine. I will always remember my trip to Morocco. There were things I wish I hadn’t seen, things I wish I had done and perhaps a few things I wish I hadn’t eaten, but all in all it was a very insightful trip. Through the journey I got a view into a culture I had never seen before, an appreciation for the true beauty of Northern Africa and a new found confidence in myself that only comes from pushing your own boundaries. My trip wasn’t all happy days and pie but all in all I’m glad to say that I went and I survived, and I encourage you to do the same.