Day 6 – Atlas Mountains and Erfoud Village

my first sighting of the High Atlas Mountains

We started bright and early (7:30 a.m.) today for the long ride that would take us across the Middle and High Atlas Mountains and to our hotel for tonight in Erfoud where we arrived at 5:30.

I'm feeling much better after 10 hours of sleep last night and 2 hours in the afternoon. I started out with a terrible hacking cough, which two days ago developed into a cold. My sides ache from all the coughing and my muscles ached. I have never been this sick on a trip. But nothing was going to stop me from going to the Medina in Fez or to make the home visit to a middle class family.

Actually, I welcomed the day-long trek through the mountains not only for the beautiful natural sights, but for a rest after all the activity we have had over the past few days. Yemni is very thoughtful. He knows just when to take comfort stops and just when to take a look at something along the way. We usually start out our day between 7:30 and 8:30, but we end by 3 or 4 p.m. so that we have some time to ourselves before dinner. Twenty years of guiding work has given him this gift—and an uncommon patience with groups.

When we pack up and leave a place, he doesn't just say: “Make sure you take everything with you.” He appeals to people by saying: “Please, do this for me.” It would be difficult to retrieve a forgotten item and it would waste a lot of time that we don't have with our very full itinerary.  He emphasized the importance of not leaving anything behind by letting us know that we would have to pay for the transport of a lost item.  Miraculously, there were no incidents of lost or left behind items.

Then, while en route to a place, if Yemni sees something interesting, he asks the bus driver to stop and we pile out and look at it, like the other day when we stopped on the way to Mekenes to talk with a woman who lived on the countryside—and today, when we stopped in a cedar forest and took a walk of about 20 minutes. The air was brisk but fresh and there were few sounds around us. The cedars were planted by the French and the present government. The seedlings come from Lebanon. The cedar wood is used for ceilings in mosques, schools, and other public buildings. There are also oaks here and you can recognize them for their rounded shape. The cedars look like triangular Christmas trees.

As we entered the mountain lands we made a comfort stop in Ifrane.  Also located here is Al Akhawayn University, a private university built by Hassan II, the father of the present king. It had red tile roof tops. Unlike the public universities that are free, private university student pay as much as 6,250 dh per month. They study in English and they have American professors. It is one of the best private universities, and students are assured a job if they finish.   According to Wikipedia:

Al Akhawayn University (Arabic: جامعة الأخوين‎, meaning The Two Brothers' University referring to the King Fahd of Saudi Arabia, and the King of Morocco Hassan II) is a university located in Ifrane, Morocco, 70 kilometers from the imperial city of Fes, in the midst of the Middle Atlas Mountains.

The creation of Al Akhawayn University was largely funded by the King of Saudi Arabia from a large endowment intended for the cleanup of an oil spill off the coast of Morocco.^[1] However, the cleanup was never realized as the wind blew the oil spill away and the endowment was used to create the university. Al Akhawayn University was founded by Royal Decree (Dahir) in 1993 and officially inaugurated by the former King of Morocco, Hassan II, on January 16, 1995.

Near the university is a ski town (a.k.a. "Little Switzerland") that was built by the French earlier in the twentieth century. Rich people hang out here, and the King has a palace on a hill nearby. This resort that looks like it was lifted out of the Alps of Europe and into Morocco is a big draw for a weekend jaunt, especially during the hot summers.  The King of Morocco has a place in this area, too.There are a lot of empty homes in winter but the people flock here to cool off during the summer months. (This is the way it is in West Michigan, only we get Chicago people who spend their summers on Lake Michigan.)

 


At the entrance to the resort is a lion hewn out of the rock sitting there.  It was sculpted by a man who was a prisoner at the time.  Art and beauty, once again, triumph over someone's bad reputation.

Visiting a Semi-Nomad Family

The land is sparse of trees and vegetation, but a whole way of life exists in small clumps of people and sheep.  It is the life of the semi-nomads. This life is quite a contrast to luxury and wealth of the people who hang out in "Little Switzerland," and we had a unique opportunity to stop and talk with some semi-nomads. These people are Berbers (indigenous people who have occupied Morocco for 9,000 years) and unlike the nomads who live in the desert, semi-nomads move between two to three huts per year and stay in this area of the Middle Atlas Mountains. Their homes are made of wood with plastic covering. They move from hut to hut to give their sheep new grazing areas. 

 

woven rugs provide warm seating on outer edges of the hut

They do not have electricity, but they do have gas for heating and cooking. They cut wood for their stove that sits in the middle of their hut. They have a TV that is battery-powered and cell phones that are very cheap at 200 dh ($25). Once a week they go to the market to sell two to four sheep that commands of price of 500 to 2,000 dh ($62 to $250) depending on size. They also make and sell blankets from the sheep's wool. 

wooden roof of the hut adds more permanence

entertainment center

 

wood-burning oven in the middle of the hut

Their sale of their sheep earns them money to buy the things they need, like the plastic mats they have placed throughout the hut to walk on. Thick blankets line the perimeter of the hut and we sat on them as we talked with them and received their offering of homemade bread with olive oil and a small glass of mint tea. They get rides to the town by hitchhiking a ride with passing vehicles, like if they go to the market, the hospital or send their child to public school. They also hire trucks to take their sheep and donkeys to a new place rather than walk them there.

Zeeda and son, 3

We met two of the young women of this nine-person family. Ermina, 26, is married with a daughter who is 4, and Zeeda is also married with a son, 3. They gave birth to their babies in Oserde where there is a public hospital. We did not meet any of the men because they were with the sheep. Their older family members live in town while the younger people live in the countryside in these huts. 

School has been available to all the children of Morocco since the late 1980s and the semi-nomads take advantage of it, too. The adults want their children to go to school so they can get jobs. This means they would spare their children the hard life of the semi-nomad. Yemani was quick to add that although they have this wish for their children, not all are able to achieve this goal. So semi-nomadic life will not die out anytime soon even though there are fewer nomads today than there were 40 to 50 years ago. 
 
 
 Hospitality is an art a tradition and as an obligation extended to ALL visitors.

bread and glasses of mint tea

barn and adjoining barnyard

This family has two huts for living quarters, a corral and adjoining “barn” for the sheep. There is also a bread over; I'm not sure if it was outside or covered. They have sited their buildings on the side of a hill, probably to attain some protection from the wind. They gather wood for their stoves.

One of the many sheep herds we saw on the road.  Sheep are the bread and butter of the rural Moroccan people.









The women were very welcoming to our group and they allowed us to take photos. I'm sure we were the subject at the dinner table that night.

To the Mountains

Yeyahi Mountain

The first sighting of the High Atlas Mountains astonished me. I had never even heard of them before this trip. They are majestic and snow-covered as they rise between 9,900 to 12,000 feet. We made a "picture stop" before Yeyahi Mountain. 

The terrain before us is sand-colored and rocky and grainy. My ears are getting plugged up by the altitude, but I cannot pop them. Many of us find ourselves to be a little more tired than we started out the day. I think it's the altitude. There are some isolated houses and farms in these lands and the buildings are flat-roofed. There are also packs of wild dogs hanging out near the road. Truck drivers give them food from restaurants they eat at and that's why they are here.

I usually think of mountains as insurmountable obstacles, but there are passages through them as well as valleys. Here, there are several bare spots but more and more trees are being planted. They are pleasant and welcoming. The mountains are a good place for contemplation. I also notice that most of the mountains are nondescript but as a group, they create an environment.

Take Me to the Kasbah -- for Lunch

We stopped for lunch at Midelt, which is the apple capital of Morocco. We had charcoal-baked trout that was supremely delicious, along with vegetables—and French fries! For desert we had bananas and clementines. So refreshing and tasty!! No chemicals in this food and it was all local.

reception area of the hotel

beautiful dining area

trout and french fries!!

every meal begins with soup

This town was built in the early 20^th century to support the apple economy. There is wilderness all around us, but it is interesting to see settlements spring up out of nowhere and to wonder why they did. One thing for sure, these wilderness lands are alive—and throughout them there are lines of electrical wiring. This was a project of the Labor Party Prime Minister who sponsored a number of electricity and water projects in the country. The electricity was paid for by the urban population with a 20 dh addition to their monthly utility bill so the people in the country would have electricity, too. Europe and Japan also helped subsidize the project.

As we entered the Ziz River Valley area we stopped before a tunnel, which was built by the French Foreign Legion in 1939. 

 It was another break so that we could stretch our legs, take photos, and admire our beautiful surroundings.

 Here's what's on the other side of the tunnel.

This is a dam lake in this area, the Errachida, which is fed by the Ziz River. It is one of 75 dam lakes built in the 1960s for irrigation. The further south we went today, the more we would see date palms growing. It is a big industry. However, it is irrigation that makes the date palms possible as these arid lands could not grow anything with the little rain that is here. Date palms give birth to dates and little trees. After 6 years a date palm is able to bear fruit annually. 

a water project in the making

Unfortunately, this year is a particularly dry year and the lake was down by several meters. We could see that from the lime “bathtub ring” on the sides of the lake's mountain walls.

When we crossed the High Atlas Mountains we began to enter the desert region—and we were getting close to the highlight of the trip, two days in the Sahara Desert. The Moroccan desert has three types: stoney, sandy, and sand dunes. Most Moroccans (80 percent) live in the northern part of the country in the big cities and towns. Here in the Ziz Valley it doesn't rain much and life is limited. Saharan architecture appeared with flat boxes of mixed mud and snow.

 Inscribed on the mountain is the phrase "God, King and Country."  Most towns display this motto near the entry way into the town.

 

We made a comfort station stop at a gas station near Errachida, an army town. The station resembled our Union 76 stations. There was a snack bar with a room full of slick, clean tables—and a couple seatings that looked like Moroccan style living rooms. Young teenage boys served the coffee. When someone ordered tea, they made it in the traditional way by pouring it high up into the cup to allow air to pass through it. The cafe au lait that I had hit the spot. The little store had snack foods and I bought a small can of Pringles and a Snickers bar. This was another occasion where Yemni anticipated our needs. The store also had a lot of change, which most stores are unprepared for. We need 1 dh coins every time we go to the bathroom so that we can give the attendant a 2 dh tip, as is the custom. 

Errachida was quite developed. It was built as an army town in the 1930s. There is an airport here and Saudis fly into it so they can go hunting for obara, a bird that is as big as a chicken. Hilary Clinton has been coming here since 2003. She has a sister or an aunt who married a Berber and lives in Marrakech.

After crawling through the very flat, barren lands of date palms and mud buildings, we made another picture stop on the side of the road and found a man selling dates. He gave out samples and offered a box of small dates for 20 dh ($2.50) and a box of large dates for 120 dh ($15). I decided to buy a box and when Yemani saw that, he suggested I buy the large dates, and I'm glad I did. They had a small stone with a lot of meat around it and tasted so good. The date is important to people in this region. The 

Muslims use it to break their Ramadan fast.

On the flat roof tops, many people were drying their harvested dates.

 
Three more people in our group have contracted colds and/or coughs. This makes the trip more challenging, but everyone is keeping up with our itinerary.  However, one women and her husband who accompanied her, would stay behind in Erfoud instead of going to the desert because she was not feeling well at all.    

Last Stop Before the Desert

We arrived at our hotel, the Belere, about 5:30--just in time for the sunset.  I was very impressed with this beautiful place.  The Moroccans are trying to develop tourism as an economic development money-maker.  And, they are very serious about this effort, as evidenced by this hotel.  The desert is a big draw for travelers, and Erfoud is one of the last stops after the long trek through the mountains and just at the entrance of the desert.

 

This is my room.  I'm getting to like these long couches that are commonly found in Moroccan houses and hotel rooms.  I used this couch and table to write this blog entry.  Since the hotel is on the apron of the desert, a poster in the bathroom reminds travelers that water is the most critical resource here.
 

Although we are staying only one night here in Erfoud, Yemni advised us on how to pack for our desert camp: take only what we need. Although we can bring our suitcases, a sandstorm would likely get into our cases. We need to wrap everything in plastic for this possibility. We will leave our suitcases on the bus where they will be safe and take seats in off-road land rovers that will take us to the desert and our campsite. We will live in canvas tents and OAT has asked the camp owners to provide indoor bathrooms since so many people get up in the middle of the night to use them. 

It will likely be in the 30s at night, although the day time will be as warm and as balmy as we have been experiencing in Morocco so far. He also suggested that we put our mattresses on the ground rather than to sleep on the metal bed. It will be warmer. Several people expressed a little trepidation about the sand and the cold even though they have looked forward to this part of the trip as a highlight. Our ears were still popping from the altitude and that made hearing a little difficult, too. However, all will be well as we go through it. Yemani is there for us. That's comfort enough.

Moroccan-style salad

delicious buffet supper

We had a dinner buffet in a very fancy hotel tonight. The first table had a variety of cold vegetables for a salad with oil and vinegar. The second table had couscous with a superb cabbage-based stew to pour on top of it. This is the first time we have had couscous and it was delicious. We also had beef stew, stewed chicken, rice with braised zucchini, and Moroccan rigatoni pasta. The sauce is red, but it is a Moroccan vegetable and not a tomato. It had a little different taste than I expected, but was comfort food for me nonetheless. I skipped dessert, which was flan and apple tart. We met for dinner at 7:30 and people finished within the hour. It has been a long, but interesting day of bus travel that I wouldn't have anticipated.

I used the evening (and the time before dinner) to catch up on this blog. My illness had prevented me from b

tagine of beef, olives and prunes

logging in as much as I could and I still have a couple past days to write about. Maybe I'll get some time in the desert—although I have to be judicious about the computer's battery. I only have 3 hours available on it and there is no electricity to recharge my machine in the desert. This is going to be a unique experience!!

couscous, a Moroccan staple

Our chef has been at the hotel for the past 7 years.  He grew up in this area and is one of the youngest sons of his family.






A new friend and reminder of home.

Day 5 -- Fes

I woke up about 4:30 this morning, which allowed me to write my blog from yesterday.  Although our guide will give us a wake-up call at 6:45, the call to prayer began at 5:30.  We have not yet experienced this until now.  It is a horn-like sound that goes on for about 15 minutes.

The last time I experienced this early morning call to prayer was in Thailand near the border with Burma around this time of year.  The moon was a quarter moon, and the quiet of the city, cool breeze, and dark blue sky made it a sacred time.  For me, the sacred is being someplace in the world that is not my home and experiencing another culture.  It arouses feelings of awe and wonder at the different ways people live and the different ways they express themselves and their beliefs.  Travel, for me, is a sacrament.

Someone once asked me what my passion was.  If I could name anything, it would be travel.  It's not about restlessness or unrootedness in my home, for I recently realized that I could move away from Kalamazoo and live anywhere I wanted.  I made a decision, at least at this time, to stay in Kalamazoo.  But my town gives me access to anyplace in the world that I want to go.  I happen to be in Morocco right now and I love it.  I feel aligned to it in some way.  Maybe a past life?  More certainly, it is my inclination to travel the world, see its sights, meet its many peoples, and come to know many different ways of life.  Then there is my sharing it through writing and speaking with others.  Again, travel for me is a sacrament and it is really all I wanted to do with my life.

I first began travelling in Michigan with my family.  Leaving Detroit to go Up North was a big deal for an eight-year-old at that time.  My mother used to say that she would love to live out of a suitcase and travel.  When I began to make cross-country and international trips through my fellowship with the W.K. Kellogg Foundation (1984-87), I began to fulfil both her dream and mine.  As I sit here in my room at a riad (family home that is rented out to visitors) in Fes, I feel the spirit of my mother.  She died of cancer in 1970 before she could realize her dream of travelling, but had she lived, I'm sure we would have gone on trips together and enjoyed each other's company and curiosity.  (My father was a homebody.)

I also have to say that my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Williams, also inspired me.  She introduced me and my class to National Geographic Magazine as well as the Kiwanis travel-lecture series.  At home, we watched George Pierrot on Channel 4 (NBC) whenever he featured Italy.  His program was at 5 p.m., our dinner time, and that was the only time we sat in front of the TV.  All these experiences came about the same time and it was then that I knew then that I wanted to travel the world and tell others about it.  And now I am.

We began today's tour at one of seven gates in the Medina. The seventh gate is covered in green (representing peace) and blue (representing Fes) mosaics. (Each city has its own color. The taxis abide by this color as well.) We were not allowed to go through any of the gates, but the government is looking to opening them to the public as it develops tourism in Morocco.

The seventh gate is the entrance to the Mellah, the 600-year-old Jewish section of the Medina, which goes back to the fourteenth century. The oldest building there was built in 1337 and it takes on a Spanish style. On the main street there were also several buildings that had balconies; the very rich lived there. This is an influence of Andalusia where the Jews lived before they were kicked out of Spain.

We stopped at a cemetery with old tombstones—and new ones as well. There were small tombstones for children and I was reminded that in the “old days” babies—and women who bore children—did not always survive. One couple from our group stopped in the chapel there to look up a name of someone they knew.

Jews played a huge role in Morocco and many of them lived in Fes. There were 800,000 before the 1960s; 600,000 left to go to Israel, Europe, or the USA. Morocco suffered greatly from this loss because many of the Jews were business owners, so people lost their jobs. The Jews also contributed to the culture of the country. Two hundred families still live in Fes today.

We went to a synagogue and entered by the door that had the Hand of Fatima imprinted on it. The hand is a good luck charm as well as protection from the “evil eye.” The Jews believed in this idea as much as the Arabs. 

A 300-year-old handwritten Torah is there at the synagogue where the men sit on the main floor and the women sit in the upper level. A water receptacle is located in front of the altar. The water comes from rain runoff that is collected below the main floor, which is where the brides purify themselves. The building has been there since ____. At one time it was one of 25 operating synagogues in Fes.


 



This is the oldest building in the Medina.  It is in the Spanish style with a balcony.

 

Mohammed was our city guide. He is a retired international law professor of 27 years, and he had the poise and charm of a knowledgeable diplomat and politician. In fact, he was running for parliament, whose elections will take place in 2014.

Before we got into the Medina, we saw a panoramic view of it from a lookout point on a hill overlooking the city. It is the most famous and most complicated medina in the world. It is 6 km long and takes a mule 3 days to traverse it (a little Fes joke). There are 9,000 alleys and seven gates. The Medina was built in the ninth century. The walls were built in the 11^th century and they have undergone several restorations through all these years, that is, such work was planned from the start. When the Jews came in the 14^th century, they contributed to building walls around the Medina, not to create a ghetto, but rather to control traffic, especially foreigners who had no business getting in.

The morning was fresh and relatively quiet in the Medina because the shops do not open until 11. They close at 1 p.m. and then re-open from 5 to 7 p.m. so that people who work all day can do their shopping. What do they do the rest of the day? They talk, have tea, and discuss important issues of the day.

These towns and cities that we visit are as authentic as you can get in both style and purpose—and the people want to keep it that way. They are for the people who live there, not for the tourists. Tourism has not taken root here—yet. Morocco is working on that as an economic opportunity. On the other hand, now is especially good timing for Morocco to make a bid toward the tourist trade. The Arab Spring of 2011 has diverted the tourist trade away from Egypt and Tunisia (main centers of tourism in North Africa) to Morocco. As a result, more and more Americans are discovering Morocco. Europeans have visited the country over the years, but the economic decline has slowed down tourism.

Mohammed, our guide, took us to the oldest street in the Medina. It was barely 2 feet across. People who live on this street have to be good to their neighbors, he said, because if they want a refrigerator put into their apartment, it has to be carried over the roofs and down into the apartment. They need their neighbors' help.

Balak!! Balak!!  Donkey coming through.

foot washing before prayers

The Medina is a ninth century structure that people want to keep to this day. It provides visitors with a flavor of what it must have been like in medieval cities. The hustle and bustle, the buying and selling, all the life going on there. At prayer time, the men go to the Mosque, wash their feet, and take their place in a row in front of the niche where the immam stands. Kids from school rush about. Babes in mothers' arms cry or sit agog at all the stimulating activity surrounding them. There is a meat section, a fruit and vegetable section, a dry goods section, a precious metals section (gold is a fixed price). There are beggars sitting on the street and all sorts of people. I saw many blind men, some more disfigured than others. But everyone who visits the Medina quickly becomes a part of it. Life is vibrant but no so intense that I tired of it. Perhaps it is an extrovert's dreamland—and I wasn't feeling all that well! I loved it.

Fes is known as the crafts capital of Morocco, and today it is home to half a million craftsmen out of the 2 million people who live here. Another 70,000 people from surrounding areas come to the city every day to work or study here. 

We visited a couple shops like the ceramics factory. It is a cooperative with apprentices who work four-hour shifts—one in the morning and the other in the evening. An apprenticeship lasts 5 years. The people there were busy at work there molding clay, chipping mosaic, firing the pottery in the kiln, taking orders from visitors, or hauling truckloads of pottery away to markets. 

 

Our guide took us through the process for making ceramics out of clay and out of marble. I bought some gifts here and a flower vase for myself. Blue is the color of Fes. These artisans, as all artisans in Fes, are descendants of Andalusia (Spain) when the Jews and the Moors were kicked out in 1492 when King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella were the rulers of a new and united Spain.

We later went to the tannery to see the fine leather jackets, vests, pants, purses and other goods. Making leather from goat skin is a very smelly process. The trick that keeps the leather flame-proof, water-proof and soft is pigeon droppings. As we went up a long series of steps to get to the observation tower, we passed the blessed pigeons and sniffed on the mint leaves they gave us to shield us from the bad smell. Luckily, we weren't here in the summer when the odor is especially bad.

After we finished our tour we went to the showroom. It was filled with different colors of leather from black to saffron yellow, the most expensive color. If they don't have the color you want, they will make it for you. I had the opportunity to be with Barbara and Art and to serve as a go-between the two of them and the dealer as well. Barbara wasn't in the market for a jacket, but she tried some on anyway. They started out at $525. Then she wanted to look at purses. The one she picked out was $225. The dealer, who was as suave as a diamond merchant, offered her various prices and she kept saying she didn't want the coat because it didn't flatter her. I told her that it DID flatter her and that if she wanted it, she should get it. After 20 minutes or so, we got down to her price of $450 for the jacket and the purse. 

 

Barbara

I felt as though I was living vicariously through Barbara's purchase. I would have liked the blue jacket or a brown jacket with a belt. These coats were gorgeous! I also felt as though I were with my mother. Since she died in 1970, I have not had the luxury of shopping or traveling with her, as we would most surely have done. It suddenly struck me after our jacket shopping ended that this might have been a scene between Mom and me. It was a precious moment.

Mom has been with me on this trip from time to time. Whenever I am in a place where I can't believe I there, I feel Mom's presence through a skipped heart beat or a feeling that starts in my stomach and wells up into tears in my eyes. It's a good feeling as I also feel she is watching over me, too.

We had a very nice lunch in a very nice restaurant in the Medina, and it was quiet compared to the business of the marketplace that surrounded it. So there were little oases like this in the Medina that perhaps gives people a break. Nevertheless, today I was not feeling very well and I longed to go back to the hotel and sleep. We had a tagine and it was very good, but I couldn't even bring myself to eat the delicious fruit.

We don Moroccan fashion wear.  I'm in the striped jiliba

After lunch we went to a textile shop and were show kaftas and jilibas. The dealers were very slick. They had a few of us try on the garb, including yours truly. I wanted a wool, hand-crafted kafta and was given a striped brown and white one. The price started out at $439 and I told him I could not pay it. He asked how much I would pay and I said I was too embarrassed to say because it would be so much lower. He pressed me and I told him $100. He said no and I walked away. Then he came back to me and said he'd give it to me for that price. Do I have a knack for this or should I have gone lower?

Our guides were very cautious with us and kept close watch that we didn't get lost or that a pickpocket didn't assault us. There were no incidents. I had heard of the Medina and was a bit afraid at first, but soon I saw we were safe. We learned a new and important word as we entered the Medina: balak, which means watch out. We got our first taste right away as a man drove 3 donkeys through the streets. They seemed to assume that they had the right of way or at least, as beasts of burden that they should.

In the Medina there is something going on around you at all times. There are the other shoppers, almost all of whom are native Moroccans doing their shopping. There is no set pathway of yielding left or right. As it was, we were passing through the streets on the left! Shopkeepers don't generally bark at you as the street sellers do. If you make the mistake of looking at them or worse, talking to them, you cannot shake them. I encountered a street vendor who tried to sell me some cheap silver bracelets. I knew they would stain my arm and I don't wear such bracelets. His price started out at 500 dh and he stuck with me, even after I went into stores. We talked a bit. He told me his name was Mohammed and that he had a wife and two sons. He was trying to make a living and that I didn't understand that. The shopkeepers are all rich and I buy from them. Why not from him? Since he was following me a long way from where we first met, I told him he might get lost in the Medina. He denied that. Finally, he was about to go away when I said I felt guilty and then he started trying to sell me again. Just before we left the Medina and got onto the bus he offered me all five bracelets for 100 dh.

I found this hard selling difficult to turn away from—and he knew it. So long as you interact with them or don't use the words smah lee, which means sorry, they don't go away. In this case, a policeman chased the man away. However, even though I did this wrong (and my travel mates told me all about it the next day), I'm glad I had the experience. If anything, it was training for me to be with my Middle Eastern students some of whom tend to bargain for grades. I now have some Arabic words I can use on them, which will astonish them, and I know a bit about the bargaining culture.

When we returned from the Medina and I took a much-needed two-hour nap for my terrible cough and cold. It helped revive me a bit so that I could participate in the home visit of a middle class family.

Nada serves rice and meatballs

In the evening Yemni split us into three groups so that we could make a home visit to a middle class family. My group visited a woman and her son. Nada is a part-time nursery school worker and her son, Ahmed, is working in computers for a German company. He got the job through an internship with the same company. He is studying for his MBA at night and in fact, had to leave us before we had dinner. There is a younger son who is in France studying computer programming. 

We sat in the dining area on long couches and had a meal of soup, bread, and meatballs/rice. It was a little stiff but we broke the ice when we started talking about children getting married. Nada said that marriages are no longer arranged by parents (at least in the city), so whomever her sons choose, “not my problem.” 

area where we had dinner with adjoining living room

I went to bed at 9 p.m. exhausted and not feeling very well, but satisfied with this wonderful day. I have to get well before we go to the desert where it will be colder and we will be outdoors.

Day 4 -- A Riad Experience in Fes

(This account is a little sketchy on details and photos because I was not feeling very well at the time. Sorry about that.)

I had heard about the riads of Morocco from the Frommer's Travel Guide, but I didn't expect it to be a part of our schedule.  That's OAT for you.  They want their travelers to have as broad an experience of a country as possible.  We went to the Riad Dar Imana in the medina (old town of Fes).

Riad Dar Imana
Our riad is a family home with 12 rooms for guests.  It also serves home-cooked meals, which we experienced at dinner tonight--along with some entertainment.

Rashid is the owner of the riad and he is assisted by three women who are his cousins.  The house was built in the 17th century and Rashid's family has owned it for the past 68 years.  A Jewish Moroccan family had it previously and then sold it to Rashid's grandfather when they went to Paris and later Israel during the mass exodus of Jews from Morocco.  The only condition that went with the sale was that if  Jewish family comes to Fes, they would be allowed to stay here.

Rashid's family consisted of 31 members, including 13 brothers and sisters, and they all used to live here.  He is the second to the youngest.  His sisters married and were off on their own.  As the family became smaller and they had this big house to maintain, they decided in 2007 to open a riad and to share the house with people like us.  Now his family has 103 members and they oftentimes come here for a visit.  He has only two children.  (Moroccan families today usually have 2-4 children while they used to have 6-7.)

Rashid insists his riad is not a hotel, but a house--"so, please feel at home," he told us.  He wanted to avoid the rigid system that a hotel brings and make his place more homey or like what we would call a bed and breakfast (B&B).




Here is the dining room, which was originally an interior courtyard and garden. 













Here is a shot from the third floor, where my room was.











Here is the view of the three floors rising up from the original courtyard.  The carved wood banisters and facings is probably cedar from Lebanon, although the French planted cedar trees in Morocco when they colonized the country in the early 20th century.

Notice the elaborate decoration on the pillars and ceiling and cornices.

Our Meal




Our hostesses were dressed in traditional kaftan silk with beautifully  embroidered belts.  They prepared a four-course meal for us and first presented it to us when they invited us to their kitchen.

We had soup, salad, and turkey (or chicken) with  prunes and a prune sauce for an entree.  Delicious!









Yemni looks over the turkey (or chicken) cooked with prunes.

Garry and Rae finish their delicious meal with a little mint tea.






 


Entertainment


Before we ate supper, we had a little entertainment with some local musicians who played traditional Moroccan music.  The youngest man (standing) had a tassel on the top of his hat that he kept swinging around and around--all night.  As he engaged us, he captured Lester's eye, who not only put on the hat and twirled the tassel, but he danced.  He got a lot of laughs out of us.

You can see the tassel twirl on the young man at the bottom of the photo.  A couple of the women cousins and Rashid (right) enjoy the entertainment....












.....as we enjoy the entertainment.















My Room

Upon entering the riad, our hosts gave each of us a red rose.  I put mine on my bed.  It was a nice touch. 

Although I had to climb up to the third floor to reach my room, I was astounded by its beauty and comfort.  I felt like a queen--and allowed myself to enjoy it.  We have truly been spoiled on this trip!

I'd typically leave a light on in my room.  In the riad, I left the colored light (left of the head board) on above my bed.










Here is a shot from the other end of the room.  The doors lead to the hallway.

This large bathroom had a wonderful, hot shower.

According to Wikipedia:

A riad (Arabic: رياض‎) is a traditional Moroccan house or palace with an interior garden or courtyard. The word riad comes from the Arabian term for garden, "ryad".^[1] The ancient Roman city of Volubilis provides a reference for the beginnings of riad architecture during the rule of the Idrisid Dynasty.^[2] An important design concern was Islamic notions of privacy for women inside residential gardens.

When the Almoravids conquered Spain in the 11th century they sent Muslim, Christian and Jewish artisans from Spain to Morocco to work on monuments.^[3]

The riads were inward focused, which allowed for family privacy and protection from the weather in Morocco. This inward focus was expressed in the central location of most of the interior gardens and courtyards and the lack of large windows on the exterior clay or mud brick walls. This design principle found support in Islamic notions of privacy, and hijab for women. Entrance to these houses is a major transitional experience and encourages reflection because all of the rooms open into the central atrium space. In the central garden of traditional riads there are often four orange or lemon trees and possibly a fountain. The walls of the riads are adorned with tadelakt plaster and zellige tiles, usually with Arabic calligraphy, with quotes from the Quran.

The style of these riads has changed over the years, but the basic form is still used in designs today. Recently there has been a surge in interest in this form of house after a new vogue of renovation in town such as Marrakech and Essaouira where many of these often-crumbling buildings have been restored to their former glory. Many riads are now used as hotels or restaurants.

Day 3 -- Volubilis

Triumphal Arch

The Romans were conquerors and not very nice guys. They enslaved those they conquered, killed those who got in their way, and hungrily gobbled up the known world for their own riches and desires. However, say what you will about their bad habits, they were marvelous engineers and city builders. Volubilis was no exception.

Aziz, our local guide

This inland outpost, originally established by the Phoenicians, was enhanced and expanded by the Romans during their three-century long stay (325 BCE – 225 AD) in Morocco. The reason? It was a "grain basket" as well as a place for olive oil. 

 

They built the city out of the limestone from the mountains, which weren't all that close. They plastered the walls of their buildings and painted them. On the floors they put mosaics, some of which have been preserved and are among the best and most colorful in the world. A wall 18 feet high surrounded the two-square mile city that included a triumphal arch (still mostly intact), temples, a forum, main street with space for shops, housing for all classes of people. An aqueduct brought water in from the mountains to provide drinking water, toilet and laundry facilities, a spa. One of the private homes was 10,000 square feet! Their slaves here were the native Berbers, who took over Volubilis when the Romans left and they inhabited the town until the 1755 Lisbon earthquake leveled it.

I could feel the presence of the Romans here, just as I had when I was in the forum in Rome, only it wasn't a sadness that pervaded this place. Instead, it was just a presence, maybe tinged with pride at having created such a marvelous city.  I had never heard of Volubilis and yet it fascinated me. There was a young woman who looked to have a Muslim prayer book with here. She was praying here, in this valley surrounded by the most fertile soil in Morocco. I found this odd, as I had never seen anyone do this among Roman ruins. Our guide, Yemani, said it was not so unusual, as Muslims pray anywhere

that is a clean place. Maybe the woman had Berber background and she was praying for her ancestors who lived here longer than anyone else. Maybe she was an archeology student and she was hoping for inspiration and good luck in her work. Maybe she was an architect or an artist and she merely admired what had once been here. Nevertheless, no one can come to Volubilis and not be moved by its size, former strength and beauty, or its importance in settling the known world of its time for this was civilization!

Volubilis is only recently being excavated and there is much work to do and much more to learn here. It is my dream to spend time in an archaeological dig and if I were to choose a place, it would be Volubilis. No wonder it is a UNESCO world heritage site!