Morocco was a country unlike any we have ever seen before. The people, the culture and the architecture in this Muslim country are far from what we are used to in “Western societies”. Being in Morocco is an overload of the senses from the sounds of the Muslim call to prayer 5 times/day and the shopkeepers shouting their “final offer” as they follow you out of the store after a round of price haggling (there are no fixed prices), the spicy smells of couscous mixing with the pungent odors of freshly tanned leather, the sweet-minty taste of the traditional mint tea, the sight of women walking with their heads covered and men wearing the elfin-like yellow, pointed slippers, the feel of people and burros rushing past you in the tiny winding streets of the city centers all intermingle to create an environment that is worlds away from everyday American or European life.
Our first visitor, our friend Dave from Chicago, joined us in experiencing Morocco. We visited the country with a Spanish tour company who promised to take us away from the tourist traps and show us the “real Morocco”…and that they did! We visited three cities that were all unique in their own way. The first, Chefchaouen, was settled by Jewish and Muslim refugees who fled Spain during the Spanish Inquisition. It’s nestled in the Rif mountains where most of the world’s hash supply is grown (hence the slang term “reefer”). The walls in the center of the town, painted by Jewish settlers, are a brilliant, sky blue color. Blue paint on the ground indicates that the walkway is a dead-end. The second city we toured, Fez, is the cultural heart of Morocco and dates back 1500 years. Inside the walls of the old city, called the Medina, are 9,500 winding paths or alleyways. It is as if time has stood still within the Medina. Cars cannot fit inside the walls, so everything is transported via cart and donkey. The skins of camels, goats and cows are still dyed the old fashioned way in the tannery of the city. Men spend all day standing waist-high in vats of dye (from pomegranate, saffron, cedar and henna) performing back-breaking labor by repeatedly dunking the leather into the dye. Scarves and rugs are still made on old-fashioned looms worked by the hands and feet. Houses, which appear to be shacks on the outside, open up to grand rooms with indoor balconies. The pharmacy, a chemist dependent upon traditional herbal remedies (ever tried saffron for cramps or aragon---derived from a tree in which goats live---for treating arthritis, wrinkles and weight loss?), is far removed from the Walgreens we are used to on every corner. The only hint that the year is actually 2006 instead of 1006 are the occasionl people seen dressed in a more Western style of clothing such as jeans and t-shirts instead of the traditional hooded "Chalabah" robe.
Morocco is a mixture old and new, rich and poor, familiar and foreign. The McDonald's outiside of the Medina is a sad reminder of the increasing globalization of our world. The gold-plated palace of the royal family, standing in stark contrast to the run-down shacks outside of our hotel, attest to the struggles that this developing country faces. The farmers in the fields laying prostrate on blankets, praying in the fields facing East (Mecca) reminded us that we were a world away from home (or at least what we are used to at home).
