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Morocco, Day 2 On the road to Fes

Greetings friends and family,
Thank you to everyone who wrote me a message in response to my “novel” (according to my mother). Today’s entry will be full of interesting moments, though possibly (or not) shorter in length.
Obi and I woke up to a cool Casablanca morning, after some showers I ran out to fetch us some of the fresh bakery treats for breakfast. Those of you who know me, not having had my oats with fruit in two days feels different, only sweets for my morning fuel is interesting. I can’t say it isn’t tasty though. This was the first time I went out without Obi and certainly felt the looks of more men. I also heard more subtle sounds meant to attract your attention and get me to look over. Ignoring them I set out for breakfast. At the bakery as I was googling the delicacies a customer recommend I purchase a cookie that had cumin seeds, he made a kiss with his fingers to indicate “delicious”. Upon sampling it, I couldn’t agree more, it was good. The dough was dry but light, small crumb structure with the subtle cumin seed to add flavoring countering the sugar. It was a solid recommendation. We then began the drive to Fes, which mapped out was to take us 3.5 hours. This meant we had to exit Casablanca, the wild city streets.
Today’s driving proceed to be just as milk curdling as the first night. Obi said the lane markers act as mere “suggestions” for the drivers given hardly anyone minds their lane. And once again, Obi did wonderfully, despite the stressful environment. We decided to drive through the country’s capital city, Rabat and see some of the sights. On our way to Rabat I watched the scenery change. The tall brick buildings with the cool ocean breeze melted into the rich reddish brown dry soil which is home to one level cement farm houses, delapitated donkey shelters, donkeys grazing the earth, sheep heards, hay fields, cactus farms, dusty roads and low level olive trees. I couldn’t help but think about Greece. It felt familiar in many ways and without the Arabic road signs I could’ve been fooled.
Upon entering the city of Rabat we slowed down and passed through a traffic stop. Immediately we noticed people were more conscious of the traffic laws and driving felt a bit easier…until we reached the inner city limit. Then it was chaos as normal. We searched for a parking spot which was extremely challenging, until we found what we thought was a spot, gathered our things, locked the car and began walking until a man on the street kindly informed us in French that our car would be locked by the police and we couldn’t park there. Golly, that was helpful! So we left. Our destination was the mausoleum of King Mohammed V. He is known as the father of Moroccan independence. Also in two other separate sarcophaguses were his two sons one of whom was Hassan II. This mausoleum is built with honor by a Vietnamese architect. This structure was intended to built next to the Hassan tower which unfortunately after the death of the architect was never completed and then suffered damage from an earthquake. While the tower stands tall and some of the original wall and columns are available for tourists to photograph the grounds feel a bit eerie. However the mausoleum leaves no don’t in your mind you are in the presence of royalty. The room had four entry ways each with a royal guard. I should also add just at the gate stand two white horses with royal guards keeping watch. Then inside are another four guards watching us. The sarcophagus is below the viewing deck, looking down on the single block of white marble. You can hear soft chatter and the click click of cameras and seated near the body is a man reading a holy book. He was quite, seated cross legged, ignoring our curious eyes. The guards have the stoic appearance of the Buckingham palace Royal guards. Then as I passed one he broke from his pose and welcomed me to Morocco;)
We enjoyed some park slope food coop snacks in the park (yes, I’m always traveling with snacks) before heading to Fes. As we’re driving along Obi notices two red symbols appear on the dash board. A red wrench paired with a red exclamation mark. When Obi’s car tires need air the symbol is the same so we suspected low air pressure. This was certainly troubling given we didn’t know how serious it was and we were about an hour away from the next city, Meknes. If a tire would’ve blown out, our only resources would have been a farm house or driver who took pity on us. We slowed down and crossed or fingers. I looked through the car manual which was only in French and found the two symbols. I could understand about one word, engine. Ha! Obi noticed that a new message appeared which read, “check tire pressure.” Okay well we had a diagnosis now we needed help! Luckily, we lasted until the exit and found a gas station with a service center. I asked a man for help who only spoke Arabic and some French. I showed him the book and we tried to explain what happened. He was patient and ultimately understood that we were trying to have him check our tire pressure. The first three were fine, but the final one was very low he said. Yahoo, easy fix! We gave him a generous tip. The problem was solved and the signals did not appear again.
As we headed to Fes we started to problem solve how we’d get the car to the hotel given that no vehicles drive in Fes el-bali which is the old part of the city. A highly complex web of narrow streets going in every single direction. You can imagine a maze like something Dr.suess would draw in one of his books. Our Google map showed us a road to turn up but without a sign from the hotel we didn’t think it was correct and instead found a spot just outside the entrance to the web. No sooner did we pull in a man stands waiting for us with a push cart. There were many men with carts waiting to take our luggage and guide is through to the hotel. At first we politely declined, but he and another man were insistent saying the walk was 10 minutes. We felt inclined and truthfully needed the help. Once we started walking there would have been NO way we could’ve figured this out. NO way. These streets were narrow, walls so tall you could barely see the sky with tarps and wood across the top. This gave us no points of reference. The ground was uneven, steep steps, and jagged corners at every turn. People walking but mostly working. We passed many leather shops making items from the local leather in the tanneries (which are famous in Fes). The smell is potent. There were women ironing clothes, potters, weavers, bakers, mechanics and men waiting to be your guide. One took a liking to Obi and talked with him while we walked. He might be our guide tomorrow, we’ll need a guide. He told us to meet him at the fountain, we’ll go and see if he’s there. If not we’ll ask at the hotel to arrange for a guide. Eventually we reach the hotel, a most magical wonderland of a hotel. It’s truly incredible to think from the outside you’d never imagine something with such aesthetic glory hidden behind these walls. It’s a building with hundreds of spiraling steps, colorful glass windows overlooking Fes, a pool surrounded my mosiac walls, carved wooden balconies, trees inside the tea lounge with birds, scrumptious rose bushes in the garden, puppies and cats, olive trees, an outdoor balcony from which we ate our dinner over looking the whole city at night, and a roof terrace! I’ve attached an evening picture from after our dinner (of couscous and vegetables topped with raisin and chick pea chutney).
Obi and I have had many moments of gratitude to acknowledge how incredible this place is. And I can’t thank him enough for talking me on the trip. I admit, leaving our car and walking through the streets left me anxious. I’m uncomfortable going someplace without a clear exit strategy. I felt trapped and worried about how we’d find out way back. When we rang the bell a lovely woman greeted us and asked us to sit for some tea before going to our room. While mint tea and cookies is always welcomed, being asked to sit left me feeling even more confined. I took a few deep breaths and settled into the tea and started to take in my surroundings. We then explained that it car was not here at the hotel and they arranged for one of their employees to help us. He was incredibly kind and charming. We thought we’d rely on him to back track, but I think I had been paying very close attention to the way we came I actually figured out the path we took. Our new friend was impressed, truthfully so was I (and Obi). I think given how alert I was earlier unbeknownst to me, I’d been making a mental map as a survival strategy. When we found the car our guide bought us each a prickly fruit, sweet with yellow pulp and many crunchy seeds. As it turns out it was a prickly pear, the fruit that grows on a cactus plant. I figured this out when we went exploring in the garden of the hotel and I touched the cactus only to get many small cactus splinters on my hand and arm. Nothing the old tweezers couldn’t handle!
Dinner began with a free drink and chat with the hotel owner, a Moroccan man whose family was forced to leave Spain (the Muslim and Jewish people were both forced to leave) in the Spanish Inquisition, he said roughly 500 years ago. His family settled in Morocco and he bought this hotel 25 years ago. It was a lovely evening ending with a cup of tea in bed and here we each sit, writing away. Oh, I also saved the day by killing a gargantuan water bug which I found in the bathroom.
Let’s see what tomorrow holds.
With care, Franziska

Morocco, Day 1 Casablanca

Greetings Friends and Family,
We made it, Obi and I are safe, sweaty (it’s hot here) and full… In Morocco!
Let’s rewind though… Obi and I flew for the first time a Boeing 787-9 out of NYC direct to Casablanca. The plane has some new features I’d never seen before like windows that adjust electronically to get lighter or darker without pulling down a blind and the cabin air is maintained as close to sea level as possible. It’s very comfortable in that you don’t even notice the change in pressure, I was never thirsty or with a dry mouth.
Aide from these smart features and a delayed departure the flight was smooth and upon landing I started a cabin clap to thank the pilot. Obi was embarrassed;) I was laughing. The real adventure started upon landing, we knew our car rental place would close at 1am local time. We had just under an hour to clear passport control and find the Sixt car rental. It was tight and even though the customs agent seemed to like me and asked Obi if I was a good teacher (I needed to list my profession on the form) we waited on a long line which felt a bit disorganized and moved slowly. You see, it was critical we got the car otherwise we’d need to take a 45 minutes ride into the city via a taxi, then back in the morning to fetch the car… And finally drive again into the city. So needless to say I was incredibly determined to reach the desk before 1am. It wasn’t until just after 1am that we got our luggage and in some broken English I was able to learn that we needed to go upstairs for the cars. We ran. Shuffling along the way airport joggers do with their bags flopping back and forth and my mini suitcase rolling fast on the smooth floor. Then… We spotted it, and the gate was slowly being lowered. In a desperate plea I said, “please, we need our car.” The employee hard a warm heart and decided to help us, what luck we had!
After sorting the paperwork and finding the main road towards city center we were feeling good… Until we came upon a toll booth! And we quickly realized in haste to get the car we didn’t withdraw any local currency, Moroccan dirham ($1 to .10 dirham). Ack! We pulled up and I tried to communicate that we didn’t have any money. The man held up six fingers. I asked if we can given him US dollars, I don’t think he understood what we were saying but when I handed him a five dollar bill he took it, looked at it strangely and allowed us through. We over paid the toll by approximately$4.40 but we were just elated that it worked, we didn’t care!
No sooner did we celebrate our second victory of the night did we suddenly find ourselves in the midst of drivers who do not obey the traffic rules. Driving in Morocco has caused me the most concern in preparation for the trip and my fears were quickly confirmed as the cars just cruise up to the red lights and then accelerate through as if there were no light. A few stop at the lights but most don’t, and others will “stop” nearly in the middle of the intersection leaving just enough room for someone to pass. People walk everywhere, even though it’s dark, motor bikes drive along through every cranny and it seems at the roundabouts it’s an invitation to speed around and shoot out at your exit. I need to acknowledge now that Obi maintained absolute calm, was composed and alert. I felt and feel incredibly safe with him at the wheel. We have a few more driving days ahead, the adventure continues.
Our hotel is modern except the wifi network is down and so we couldn’t communicate sooner, right now we are in the hotel lobby using the only available network.
We slept about 7 hours and even though waking up felt a bit disorienting (given the cleaning crew came in and woke us up) we ventured out with a mission to get money, and buy water and breakfast. Our noses smelled a bakery and with dirham at hand and a large bottle of water we feasted or eyes on delicacies and sampled an onion bread, apple tart and croissant. We found a shaded bench and munched away. Crumbs and sticky fingers later we were ready to walk. We decided to first see the two focal points of the town, Place des Nations Unies and Place Mohammed V. In the first Place stand a clock tower which was built in 1910, later demolished in 1940 but rebuilt exactly the same way. Originally it was built to symbolize colonial time and that the clock reminded people they needed to keep in time with an industrial society. Walking in the streets of Casablanca you can feel the evolution of this port city. Being a Muslim country tethered by a monarchy and years of tradition it’s slowly being pushed (especially after the death of their most recent king in 1999, Hassan II) into a more modern city. Women are uncovered and the force of youth exploring Western values in Casablanca crestes a weathered city with a now reigning king Mohammed VI who takes a less authoritarian approach to politics. He’s more interested in listening to the people and counters the Islamic radicals.
Obi and I wanted to see the ancient Medina a spiderweb of small narrow streets through very old buildings covered with tarps and fabric to shield the sun from the products on sale. There were countless shoe stands no wider than three feet, clothing stores with traditional and modern, even some revealing clothing, gadgets, plastic toys, belts, sunglasses, oils, perfume and sprinkled throughout were food stands selling ground almond paste with honey, making fresh argon oil, ice cream, and then there were the fish stands. The very pungent fish stands. Small wooden blue push cart structures packed with melting ice which drips from the cracks cooling small silver fish. The fish water was everywhere and at one point Obi and I found ourselves weaving through a fresh food market with spices, grains, tomatoes, melons of different varieties, plums, peaches, bread, so much baked bread, cakes and muffins, and meat! Lots of raw red meat aggressively placed on chopping blocks for customers to purchase. Flies feasting, blood dripping and many stands included live ducks and chickens for slaughter. The smell was strong side from the fish which weighs heavy in the air, garbage clusters everywhere. Everywhere, dead fish, bones, fruit rind, egg shells, dirty diapers, gravel, wires, plastic, mounds of what might be animal or human feces splattered around… But then you get lucky and a wiff of fresh mint wafts through the air into your nostrils. There were many mint stands with men and women sitting in piles of picked mint. The mint is used in cooking but mostly for the famous and delicious Moroccan mint sweet tea (I tried some with dinner;). At one point we stepped into a curb to take it all in, to stand and watch it all unfold. I also should mention the hundreds of children we saw. Running, playing soccer, bouncing bouncy balls, eating ice cream and even a duo sharing a pair of roller blades, shopping with their parents, or cleaning dishes and collecting water at the shared water fountains. They were clearly at ease here, in there home, but it was hard not to notice how many children we saw. We came out of the Medina revitalized and ready for more.
We ventured on to the second largest religious building, aside from Mecca the Hassan II Mosque. This was in all of its glory a truly incredible building. To give you a sense of scale, during Ramadan it can house 25,000 worshipers, with 80,000 gathered on the grounds just outside. The outside doors are made from titanium so that they don’t oxidize in the salt water air and the main ceiling can open up like a sun roof which allows for the worshipers to have acess to the three holy elements air, water and the earth. Inside the main hall they pump water from the ablution room which is downstairs to rivets in the floor upstairs. The women sit on a cedar wood balcony above the men. Their balcony can hold 5 thousand women. We luckily learned about a tour beginning at 3pm, purchased tickets and surprisingly were allowed to enter both men and women side by side. I think I was the only tourist who covered her shoulders and head. I brought a scarf for the religious areas we’d visit. We removed our shoes and had a chance to take in the glory in this incredible place. The mosque was completed in 6 years with approximately 11,000 people paid billions of dollars to complete the space. We learned about the building materials and various marble minded in Morocco and the chandeliers from Italy. It was hard not to feel something powerful in this space. The design is clean with a mix of warm and cool colored mosiac tile details and fountains, hidden speakers, woodcarving and 41 lotus flowered stone fountains in the ablution room. Despite the complexity of the space and the details it brings you to a calm reflective space. With your feet touching the ground, it’s easy to feel centered. I did have many moments though when I thought about the extreme poverty just bock’s away from a space in which billions of dirham were invested. The reality of inequality is obvious and raw. And yet, despite this given that the mosque intentionally was built on water (exactly 2/3 of it is) just outside the religious walls are rocky cliffs and beaches covered with people. I’m talking thousands of people, mostly boys and men climbing down the rocks swimming into the waves or jumping from the incredibly high mosque wall into the ocean. The security guards though present don’t even bother redirecting the teens, the youth rule the wall. The women sit and watch with some of the younger girls splashing in or being teased by the boys encouraged to jump off the wall. Obi and I walked in and through the crowds happily taking in the scene. The heat was fierce and the sun sparkled on the water edge. We could hear so much laughter, barking stray dogs which had been taken in by the young boys chained to one another and again, the smell of fish raged. This was for me the highlight of the day, the visit to the mosque and observations of the ocean dwellers. We had unbeknownst to us stumbled into the mecca of Casablanca. With a religious root at it’s core and young life everywhere.
Typing this in my phone is wearing on my sun kissed hand, Obi and I have been each journaling about the day. He’s at my left side and I’m so curious to know what he’s written. I’ll find out soon, but I’ll end here with one final note. We ate dinner in a restaurant that provided delicious vegetable tagine with couscous. Our meals were very flavourful and exactly what we needed after a day of exploring. I ended my meal with Moroccan tea;)
Tomorrow we’re heading to Fes, which is a 3.5 hour drive. We’re hoping to stop briefly in the country’s capital, Rabat and pass through Meknes.
For now, it’s time for a shower.
With care, Franziska
PS. I also need to apologize for any typos, again the phone is not that easy;)