Day 24: Fes/Rabat, Morocco

I am stuck in the crevice of a 700-year-old wall with one donkey piled high with merchandise coming around the bend from my right and another ahead heading straight for me. Men are yelling in a strange language all around me and the acrid smell of the nearby tanneries hangs in the air. Confusion, fear, and excitement sharpen my senses but dull my mind. I can’t even think about explaining, in any language, this logistical complication to the men around me. Instead I remain still, back pressed against the wall with an expression of complete bewilderment on my face, and wait for things to work themselves out.

This was one of many exciting (and slightly terrifying) experiences I had last weekend in Fes. Despite crazy bus rides and medina heckling, my trip to the ancient Moroccan city surrounded by the imposing Atlas Mountains was fantastic. Fes is an incredible example of Moroccan architecture and culture. The medieval medina has remained unchanged for centuries and is said to be the largest car-free urban area. Donkeys, not cars, navigate the labyrinth that is the old city. The winding streets are bustling with tourists, locals, and shopkeepers. Spices, dates, and nougat candy are offered at every turn. Incense spills from the shrine of Moulay Idirss II, the city’s founder. The tanneries are tucked back near the river and leather is made using the same method and machinery as it was hundreds of years ago. And in the silver quarter hammers pound giant metal drums and teapots pour into the street from storefronts.

But it wasn’t just this exhilarating environment that made for a great trip; it was also the city’s atmosphere. Fes is a tourist city and I had no qualms about gawking and taking photos all over town. In Rabat I feel immense pressure to fit in and act like a true city resident. I feel like I should know how to get around, where to eat, where not to go. But the language barrier, Moroccan gender roles, and simple lack of experience have prevented me from feeling fully comfortable. In Fes I didn’t feel bad about not knowing where I was or what was going on. When you’re traveling that’s all part of the fun! When you’re living it everyday…not so much.

Finally, Fes marked the end of my self-imposed three-week shopping ban (I had promised myself not to be any non-essentials until I had been in Morocco for 3 weeks in order to better gage price and true desire). So, of course, I went all out and returned with a silver teapot (to make my new favorite drink Moroccan Mint Tea), leather sandals, a small camel-leather bag, and a beautiful scarf. And to top it off, the exchange rate (and some serious bargaining) meant I got it all for under $50!

 

Day 15: Rabat, Morocco

All is still going well here. I spent a quiet weekend getting to know Rabat and my family a little better. I’ve noticed that so far I have written mostly about myself and not about Morocco so here’s a brief food tangent that should enlighten.

The food in Morocco is not quite so different flavor wise than that of the U.S. (there are a lot of pastries, stews, soups, vegetables, and pastas with hearty spices) but the cultural surrounding it is. Food holds an important place in Moroccan’s hearts. Certain foods represent certain things, like harira, a special soup that is traditionally eaten after breaking the fast during Ramadan or couscous, which 90% of Moroccans eat on Friday, their holy day. There is also a certain attitude towards food that requires it to be offered to guests and visitors all the time, in copious amounts. One cannot enter a Moroccan house without being offered something to eat or drink at least four times and when food is presented the nagging “kuli, kuli” (eat,eat) immediately begins. Thus food is a critical element of daily life, especially for women. The everyday trip to the souk for groceries and the preparation of meals is the main activity of most women’s days.

My day begins with a breakfast of meloui, a round Moroccan pancake more similar in texture to a flattened croissant than a pancake, with strawberry jam and cup of strong coffee. For lunch, which is prepared and packed by my host mother, I typically have lamb with rice or kefta (spiced meatballs), a side dish of veggies or beets, an apple or pear for dessert, and, of course, bread. Moroccans are obsessed with bread. Loaves of traditional round Moroccan bread are present at every meal (including breakfast). They scoop up stew, surround-mini hotdogs, and add carbs at every Moroccan table. One day last week I opened my lunch and was surprised, but happily so, that my usual portion of bread was not included. Maybe my family was realizing a 70 percent carbohydrate diet was not the healthiest. No sooner had I worked through the door that evening then my host anxiously proclaimed, “I’m so sorry I forget to pack your bread for lunch! It’s right here on the counter!” Bread, in a slightly altered form, appears again at kaskrut, tea and snack time. Usually occurring around 5 or 6pm kaskrut is when the traditional Moroccan mint tea is served alongside an assortment of sweet pastries. This is the sweetest element of the Moroccan cuisine, closest to our after dinner dessert in the U.S. The dessert that actually follows dinner is just delicious fresh fruit. Dinner itself is a lighter meal served between 9 and 10:30pm. From speaking with my friends, tagine is a popular dinner item, but with my small household we usually stick to smaller meals. Typically, we have a mélange of items including omelets, cheesy pasta, hot dogs, cheesy potatoes, soup, hardboiled eggs, and bread.

For the most part, I am really enjoying the cuisine. Couscous is definitely a new favorite! But the entire Amideast group has been seriously craving TexMex for the past week. I think it’s the knowledge that there is no Chipotle in the entire country that can provide nachos, salsa, guacamole, or tacos that has us so crazy!

 Meloui, Moroccan pancake

Tagine

Couscous

Navigational Aid

In case you have been curios about where exactly I am in the world, here are two maps to help out!

 

Morocco with the black star indicating the capital, Rabat, where I am studying

 Partial Map of Rabat, my house is just to the left of the Parc du Triangle de Vue (big green area in the center), right outside the Medina

Day 8: Rabat, Morocco

Slowly, I am settling in here. I moved in with my host family on Wednesday – a mother and her college age daughter – and am beginning to acclimate to their routine and to incorporate mine. They are very nice, but it is still quite an adjustment! They both speak French so we have been able to communicate pretty easily, but most of the time they speak darija (Moroccan Arabic) so I have no idea what is being said. They also watch a lot of Arabic soap operas, an activity where, again, I have no idea what is being said. While this may hinder my French improvement, it has kick started me into learning darija. Everyone knows I love to talk, so if they won’t use a language I know I will learn the language they use!

Luckily, there are no males in the household. I say luckily because just about anything you do here can be viewed as provocative in front of a male: being in your pjs, stretching, laying down, even whistling! I am quite happy to not to have to deal with this particular cultural difference.

In an effort to get out of the house (and away from the soap operas) a group of us went to the beach today, which was absolutely incredible. The contrast of colors and textures was beautiful and it felt so refreshing to be cool while out in the sun. Swimming in my bikini was probably the first time I have felt appropriately dressed for the weather since I arrived.

The dress code here is fascinating. I expected the most traditional women to be dressed in djellabas (long sleeved, hooded robes) and headscarves, and the more modern women in pants or long skirts and unrevealing tops. And while I had the right idea with the traditional style of dress, I was way off on modern women’s Moroccan fashion. I have seen skinny jeans, tank tops, mini skirts, leggings, and sundresses. Everything I was told had to be covered – knees, thighs, shoulders, cleavage, even midriff! – has been exposed. Agdal, the neighborhood my school is located in, is especially noticeable for this Western style dressing. It makes it extremely difficult for us Americans to fit in. We are too conservative for the modern group – in order to avoid harassment – and too uncovered for the traditionalists. I am definitely looking forward to the cool weather so I can feel comfortably for both the weather and the modern style.

Harhoura Beach