Blogging
From Abroad

In taking time to explore Ifrane during study breaks, I found that the ubiquitous Moroccan tea comes in the form of ‘gunpowder’, which is rolled green tea leaves. After buying a box in the marche in Ifrane, I brewed a pot and found it to be quite bitter and strong. Still, I downed a few cups. I opened the top of the pot and found that the tea had swelled to the complete volume of the pot, making it an especially strong brew. I had put an absurd amount of gunpowder in the pot and hence made the strongest green tea in the world. Whoops! I had another sip and coughed due to the extreme bitterness and strength. No wonder merchants call it ‘Moroccan whiskey’; its caffeine content is ridiculous.

Drunk on Moroccan whiskey, I grabbed Hagan and Nick to go trekking through the town and surrounding forests. Before venturing into the woods, we stopped at a shop on the far side of the marche that offers terrific chicken and kefta (chopped beef) sandwiches. Surrounding the marche and centre ville are acres of parks and forests. Many locals sat in the grass chatting and sipping tea as their kids ran to and fro.

We journeyed through the forest of Ifrane in search of the ?Source Vittel?, the supposed gathering point of families and water gatherers. After leisurely walking on a dirt path, we came across groups of people congregating around the water source and playing in an expansive open field. After Hagen left us, we continued past this point to further explore the area. Upon walking through the fiery red and orange leaves that had fallen to the ground, we turned the corner in the woods to run into a kid named Ali who rode a small donkey with crates of water jugs on both sides. He was traveling in the opposite direction but spoke French well enough to keep up a conversation; hence we walked by his side back to the Source Vittel. After talking about living in the area, he invited Nick and I back to his family?s home for some Moroccan whisky, which we could not deny. We helped him fill up the jugs at the source and then loaded up his mule for the short walk back to his home. While we were filling the water, we apparently were seen as locals and many people came up to us to inquire as to where we lived and what we were doing. A large group of men from Casablanca were so fascinated by us that each one of them asked us to take pictures with them. Must be the red hair! One of the more gregarious men for some reason told me that he was Chinese and had me take many pictures of him (with my camera?) giving two thumbs up by the Source Vittel. Ali and Nick were trying to pull me away from the curious onlookers and we finally hit the dirt path back to Ali?s family?s home.

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As we arrived, Ali?s mother scrubbed clothes on a washboard besides the small stream that ran ten feet in front of the house. She washed her hands in the stream and then shook my hand, exchanging the pleasantry, ?tasharafna.? Ali then introduced us to his sister and father, who took a few minutes out of performing their chores to welcome us. They only spoke Arabic so our conversations were short and translated through Ali. We grabbed a few chairs and sat outside, watching their dogs chase chickens. After washing all of the family?s clothes, Ali?s mother carved up a chicken in the stream, throwing the inedible parts at the dogs which tore into them. Ali informed us that his father is the guard of the forest and patrols the area. His sister brought out glasses of what was ostensibly milk but could have been any milk product under the sun. It tasted of a foul yogurt but had the consistency of milk; whatever the product, it was in some stage of transformation! I tasted it and found it quite hard to stomach, but given that his family surrounded us and invited us into their home, it would have been incredibly disrespectful had we not drank it. Nick asked me what it was and I asked him if he wanted me to tell him it was spoiled milk or a ?very natural, liquidy yogurt?. He said that he?d rather be ?informed and depressed than ignorant and ecstatic? and I told him I could give him some medicine if he had adverse effects. Ali’s sister then brought out some Moroccan tea and we spoke with Ali at length about Moroccan schools. The sun began to set and we decided we ought to head out so we didn’t end up lost in the forest at night. After expressing our gratitude for the hospitality, Ali led us out of the woods to a dirt path that took us back to the university, which has been abandoned since Friday.