Two Hundred Dirhams and a Pound of Dead Skin

Alas, we're back. After a short, but highly exciting and well-rounded trip to Morocco, David and I are back in Barcelona. We saw Marrakech and Casablanca, made some new friends and ate some delicious food. Now, I will try my best to recount the highlights, and help you to appreciate what an interesting place "Maghrib" is. Sorry if it's extremely long, but I want to do justice to all of the great aspects of our trip.

We flew into Marrakech Airport at about 10:30 am on Saturday, and took a taxi directly to our Riad, or guest house. The two languages spoken in Morocco are Arabic and French, so we had a bit of trouble communicating, but generally taxi drivers were able to say numbers in English. Where the taxi stopped, we couldn't actually see the riad, so we withheld payment to the driver until he showed us where to go. Good thing we did this, because the streets here were really just alleys (maybe 4 feet wide), and the path involved three turns. But we found the door with nothing more than a 48 on it, and knocked.

Hassan, the proprietor, welcomed us in to what ended up being one of the most charming houses I've seen. It's a 6-room, 12-guest riad, set up in a square around a naturally lit courtyard, covered with intricate carvings and brightly colored tiles. Hassan immediately offered us Moroccan mint tea--which is delicious--and talked to us a little about our travels. Wanting to make the most of our day, however, we dropped some heavy stuff in our room and ventured out into the city.

The medina, or medieval center, of Marrakech is focused on a main square from which many other alleys radiate. The whole area is swarmed with souks, or shops, selling everything from spices, to shawls, to live chickens, and is bustling with activity. We took about an hour and a half wandering through the alleys, inhaling the incredible aromas of unnamed spices, and looking for a decent meal. We shared a tagine at a little stand where we were the only customers, which was basically a lamb, potatoe and carrot stew in a clay pot, in addition to the bread rounds that were everywhere. All this, with two Pepsi's, for about $5 total.

Having earlier connected on CouchSurfing, we found a payphone and called Ismail, a guy who was interested in meeting to show us around the town. Although for a second we doubted his integrity when it turned out he hadn't actually attended Stanford but actually only thought it was a cool place, Ismail was sincere and genuinely interested in meeting us, two American students. A 24-year old English student/part time teacher, Ismail's English was perfect despite his never having left Morocco, and it was great having him to speak Arabic to shopkeepers and keep the riffraff off our tails.

We spent the entire afternoon together, from around 2pm until after dinner, seeing both the medina and the nouveau sections of Marrakech outside the city walls. We tasted Moroccan cookies, saw chickens weighed for customers while they were still alive, and went into the market where the locals buy their goods. Also in the old part of town, we explored a palace from around the 15th-16th century, which is now ruins, and climbed up to the roof for a view of the city.

The newer sections of the city were interesting because they showed the growing influence of the French (before independence from France, residing in the nouveau section was reserved for the French). There were a few chic stores, and a recently constructed avenue with large hotels and a beautiful convention center. The center of the avenue, in addition to many others in this section, had wide walkways lined with trees that were quite beautiful. We stopped for tea at a cafe on this avenue; and just in time, because it began to pour for about half an hour.

We walked back into the town square for dinner, where a fully-fledged market had erupted. What had earlier been a gaggle of tourists had evolved into rows of stalls containing outdoor mini-restaurants, complete with tables. Many were the same, so to differentiate themselves, they had guys yelling at us to sit and eat at their place. We arbitrarily picked one, and subsequently feasted on tomato salsa, olives, bread rounds, chicken kebabs, and sausages, followed with complementary tea. Rather than give us a check, the waiter wrote mysterious numbers on the placemat which added up to 120 dirhams--about 14 dollars, for three of us. As if that wasn't enough, walked over to another row of competing stands, all selling orange juice squeezed on sight, and bought tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice for 3 dirham (35 cents) each.

We parted from Ismail after eating, and promised to keep in touch. Throughout the day, we had talked about everything: religion, Moroccan culture and customs, politics, American culture, the American dream, and our plans for the future. Ismail was generally positive on America, and was interested by all aspects of society. Turns out we both really loved Little Miss Sunshine, which portrays one Middle-American family's voyage and the different desires of Americans. Ismail also told us about how hard it is to Travel outside Morocco, and that a Moroccan passport is essentially worthless unless you are quite wealthy (otherwise the country you're visiting is apt to think you're there to stay). All in all we were amazed with how awesome it is to have the opportunity to spend a day with someone from such a different world, and vowed to use CouchSurfing or a similiar means to connect with locals on the rest of our trips.

Before bed we explored a little more of our neighborhood. At night, and in areas where few (if any) people spoke english, we found it very interesting to see how the locals spend their Saturday night. Women were almost nowhere to be found, and the men mostly idled around as their stores and the other establishments closed. Alcohol, also, was almost nowhere to be seen, as Muslim culture frowns upon alcohol and it is only consumed behind closed doors. Although we felt a little uncomfortable, it was exciting to be doing something that other tourists don't experience, and we never felt in danger. Another batch of rain led us back to the riad, but we were glad to have had the chance to walk around and see a little more.

As if the night wasn't uncomfortable enough, Sunday morning brought the highlight of the trip: for discomfort, uniqueness, and authenticity. Hassan connected us with Hamid (either his friend or employee, it was unclear), to take us to the local Hammam, or traditional bathhouse. Just around the corner from the riad, this was most certainly not for tourists (many touristy Hammams are actually just spas), and we paid Hamid 100 DH (about $12) each to take us in.

We never would have anticipated what it was going to be like. Upon entry, you buy a wad of black soap and grab a few 5-gallon buckets, and enter a locker room where you change into just underwear. The next three rooms are the steam rooms, in order of increasing heat, and we walked straight to the furthest one. All around were men ranging in age from 10 to 60, lounging on the floor (there were no seats), scrubbing themselves with soap or rough gloves, or scrubbing their friend. The amount of physical contanct was astounding, and could only be described as a complete disbelief in homosexuality.

Little did we know we were in for a similar fate. Apparently, our $12 included full body massages and scrubs from our friend Hamid. We sat like the idiots that we were as we waited for further instructions from Hamid, and evenutally he had filled the buckets and was ready to begin. Over the next hour and a half, in turn, he massaged us, srubbed us with the black soap, stretched our muscles (a bit intense on the arms and legs), srubbed off all of our dead skin with the rough glove, and gave a final scrub that included hair washing. While it was the other's turn, we would lie down and relax in the steam. With the exception of the areas covered by our underwear, everything was fair game, and it was unbelievalbe to us how natural it was.

We talked a bit to Hamid out the nature of the custom, which apparently is done once a week or so. Also, if you have a guest, it is customary to bring him to the Hammam. The experience wasn't really all that relaxing, nor did I actually feel all that clean afterwards, but it was incredible to have experienced what was truly a traditional activity so different from anything you would experience in the United States. By the time we left, it was already noon, and time to catch a train to Casablanca.

After our three hour train ride, we arrived in Casablanca, which contrasts strongly with Marrakech. A bustling town of business, there was less charm and more hassle in this city than we really wanted to deal with. The highlight, as we had been told, was the Hassan II Mosque, It's enormous. We walked from our hotel (which wasn't nearly as charming as the Riad, but only $35 a night), and explored it from the outside. It's right on the coast, and extending southwest is a boardwalk like area reminiscent of Crissy Field, although dirtier. Hundreds of people were out (no tourists) enjoying the sun, and possibly acknowleging the monstrocity of the mosque. The mosque itself is probably best described in pictures, which I promise to post as soon as I can.

We walked around a little Sunday night around the city, which included our happening upon a flash-mob of people at the train station waiting to welcome the Casa Football team home. They were quite rowdy--chanting in unison what must be the team's fight song, The cops came and broke it up, and we silently left, but it was pretty cool too have seen, If only we'd had our camera phones. The rest of the night was a similar combination of discomfort and cultural experience, seeing the less traditional people (again, almost all male), hanging out on the streets of the nightlife area. Again, not unsafe, but being the only Americans in sight came with natural feelings of helplessness should a problem arisen.

We spent the rest of the night on the hotel's rooftop terrace, overlooking the port, neighboring buildings, and looking at the well lit mosque which lay about a mile away. We were glad to reflect on the trip, talk about cultures, and think about what we look for in travel and what we hope to learn from our trip. Discomfort, we concluded, helps immensely towards making a trip unique and worthwhile, and we were pleased with our success at experiencing as genuine a Morocco as possible.