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From Abroad

As soon as class let out, we packed our backpacks and sprinted towards the gate of the campus to get a jump start on the weekend. Immediately, we started a lengthy argument between our police guards and some of the ‘grand taxi’ drivers. We had told the drivers that we wanted two cabs, but upon investigation into our finances, we decided to once again squeeze all of us in one vehicle. Of course, anger ensued and our guards and police hassled the cabbies to not charge us for two taxis (don’t worry, karma comes around full circle?we were hassled to death in Tangier). So off to Meknes we were, with an irate driver behind the wheel and a sense of fear in the air?will he take us to the train station or to the middle of the desert?

We eventually arrived at our expected destination and had to wait five hours for the 2:45 AM train to Tangier. In order to make it through the night, we went to a modern cafe and drank cup after cup of mint tea, some sans sucre and some avec sucre. Both ways supplied a steady stream of caffeine into our veins and we ended up traveling through the town of Meknes to see what the night brought us. We heard some Moroccan music pouring from a bar and decided to indulge in some hookah tobacco and enjoy the sounds of an Arabian violin. After leaving and subsequently finding ourselves lost in the city, we spotted the golden arches of McDonald’s (aka US Embassy) and decided to investigate what a Moroccan McDonald’s is like. Upon arrival, we found a group of well-dressed people sitting outside on the terrace, eating a traditional Moroccan meal and listening to Arabic music. Afterwards, we were kicked out as the restaurant was reserved for a company dinner. McDonald’s here is much different than in the US; the restaurants in Morocco are much classier and more region specific than their US counterparts. I still won’t eat at one.

After finding our bearings, we walked to the train station amidst the eerily empty streets. One man popped out of nowhere and I immediately responded ‘masa al-khair!’ (good evening) to express our goodwill. He instantly smiled and we continued on our journey to the gare. The train took off on time and we switched trains around 4:30 AM to continue on to Tangier. This switch enabled us to finally find a seat, although Nerry and I had to squeeze in between a Chinese man and some Moroccans. The Chinese man spoke every language in the world, although I’m not sure if it was a mistranslation when he told us that he “lived in a bird house in Peking” and that we can come visit him up in the trees. He wrote a few Chinese characters in my black notebook and then talked about taking a bird bath.

Finally arriving in Tangier, we bolted for a cafe for a much needed caffeine fix and breakfast. While walking around the ville nouvelle, we saw innumerable pieces of paper on the ground, each with a symbol representing a political party. It seems that for the election, the party with the most paper trash on the street wins. I think the ‘roses’ may have had it, gauging by the amount of discarded paper. Political science may be much easier here.

The banana gang.

We found a hotel, the ‘Pension Palace’, for about 50 DH (US $6) per person. Our room was like that of a sanitarium, but the white walls were quite calming. Upon exploring the Tangier medina, we found a disturbing amount of hash dealers and the like. Everyone we spoke with pulled out a small bag of the drug and offered it to us for “very good price?you pay what Moroccans pay, we don’t screw you over”. I started making tally marks in my notebook of how many dealers accosted us throughout that first day; it ended up around twelve. We even had an individual come up to our dinner table and tell us that he could “sell us a meter of coke for 80 EUR”. Of course, my facetious nature kicked in and I asked, “what about four meters?” This angered him greatly and he told us that he was interrupting our dinner for business?”this is serious! I am here for business!” the man proclaimed. Eventually, we were able to send him away after a laborious process of denying his offer.

Rocking the kasbah in Tangier

To get away from unscrupulous shopkeeps and drug dealers, we headed for the Mediterranean coast. We thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon by playing soccer with some kids and swimming in the sea. I ended up crashing around 10 PM that night at a lounge. The couch was too comfortable and I too tired to keep up with the rest of the crew.

Young boy working for a glue producer

“In Africa, you learn to live life as it comes,” said Paul Morand, and this is most certainly true. It is very difficult, or foolish, to attempt to make plans in advance when traveling throughout Morocco given the uncertainty in what you will find down the road. Therefore, our group tends to travel on a whim and go from here to there on impulse. It makes for more of an adventure. After walking through Tangier and seeing young kids burn horse legs to make glue, witnessing an overabundance of condescending Canadian tourists, and watching four year old kids being beat by shopkeeps for stealing jewelry, we decided to head out of Tangier and head to a smaller town, Assilah.

Rocks on a beach in Assilah

Spanish is widely spoken in the small coastal town of Assilah, so I was able to speak with the locals much more. I spoke with an individual from the ‘tourist industry’ and he took us to various places offering accommodation for the night. One was a plush apartment overlooking the ocean for 110 EUR (US $150) for the six of us; however, we were continuing with the ‘full experience’ theme, and we eventually settled for staying with a family within the medina for 50 DH a night. While I was negotiating with the ‘tourism operator’, I somehow lost the rest of the crew and we ran around the medina for the better part of an hour searching for them.

Shobby squirting a dead eel. Don’t ask.

That night, we enjoyed the leisurely cafe life of Assilah and feasted on couscous and fresh bread. I spoke at length with a Moroccan native, Muhammad, who has been living in Yorkshire, UK for the last 14 years. He told me that as a youth, he had worked at the same cafe and met his British wife there as well. We talked about the pound and how their federal reserve “needs to lower their interest rates”. I shared with him my Arabic notes in my black notebook and he and his father wrote some more words in Arabic. He bought all of us a round of mint teas and cafe au lait and we conversed until midnight. Upon return to the family house, I asked for a ladder to get to the top of their roof (I know this sounds a bit eccentric, and I am sure you can’t really imagine a guest in your house asking you for a ladder to the top of your roof, but there was a terrific view of the medina from that height). While standing atop of their house, the proprietor’s daughter climbed the ladder to bring us a few glasses of mint tea as her mother happily watched.

View of a minaret and other rooftops from the terrace of the family home

It truly was a unique experience staying in a Moroccan family’s home. The family room was a traditional Moroccan room, with couches against the wall encircling a large dinner table. This meant that when we had finished eating, all we had to do is lay back and fall asleep. Quite the life! The family spoke little English, and we little Arabic, making conversation very difficult. Yet, when they brought out a six course meal comprised of the most delicious food I have yet had in this country, we made the ‘oooh!’ and ‘mmm!’ sounds and made it clear we were pleased.

Reading French and Italian papers while smelling something cooking upstairs..

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A delicious Moroccan meal.

The next day, after expressing our sincere gratitude to the very hospitable family (by saying shukran bezzef, giving thumbs up, and Nerry kissing the toddler), we traveled back into the Assilah marketplace. We had around three hours left before our train departed for Meknes. One of the people we spoke with in the cafe the previous night told us about a fabled playa del paraíso. Intrigued, we searched for a mode of transport to take us to the beach. We found a large horse-pulled cart and inquired with the owner. We negotiated for about 15 minutes before settling on a price and transport arrangements. We saddled up and squeezed together, packs and all, onto a 6X6’ flat bed cart for the very rocky traverse across the city towards ‘Paradise Beach’. After traveling around 10 km, we found ourselves in the middle of rolling farmland and feared that we were to meet our death in that area. We were supposed to have reached our destination by that point. It was one of those, “wait a minute, what?” moments that are so commonplace in Morocco. There we were, being pulled by horses through an open field of pumpkins and squash. Moderately surreal.

Packing up for a wild ride_

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We fell off the wagon.

We finally reached the coastline only to be greeted by the most beautiful seaside I have ever seen. The waves were enormous and the temperature perfect. We once again played soccer, although it turned into football eventually.

Amazing Atlantic coastline in Assilah

On the train back to Meknes, I sat on the floor by the door as a younger Moroccan stood out of the train, presumably getting an adrenaline rush as the tracks flew under him at a tremendous speed. Later, I sat on the floor of a car with all of the train workers. One told me about his idolatry of Tupac and how he has learned all of his English from listening to his music. They all made fun of my hat and told me I looked like an American. Shobby was nearby and I told him to come in. Unbeknownst to him, prior to his entry I told all of the workers that he was Norwegian and he was forced to play the part. I had a good laugh. I told him that we were the next stop. “Neccst?” he asked, for linguistical clarification. “No, next,” I replied. “Ah, yah, neecst.”

When we arrived in town, intense negotiations ensued once again over the price of the taxi to Ifrane. We settled for 270 DH for the lot of us and finally arrived back at campus around 11:30 PM. I called my girlfriend, Brittany, only to find that she and my family were worried about my whereabouts as it was fairly close to the campus curfew. I apologized and talked for a little while more, only to be overcome the fatigue created from a whirlwind weekend.