Holiday continues in Essaouira

Waking up and not being able to shower is not that exciting. It’s fine if you make the choice not to shower, but when the decision is made for you, it’s much less fine. At least there was water in the sink to wash my face and brush my teeth. Oh, and the toilet was finally flushing by the morning.

After waking and breakfast, we made our way to the bus station, found our tickets, and boarded the bus to Essaouira. (Pronounced s-o-wear-a, now say it quickly. Good job.)

Ah, Essaouira. This is the place for a holiday. A quiet ocean side town, only about 70,000 people who are as relaxed and friendly as I’ve come across in my short time here in Morocco. Getting off the bus and feel the cool of the ocean breeze wash over me gave me an immediate Zen feeling. I was already looking forward to spending an afternoon on the beach, reading a book, without guilt. However, there were other small adventures to experience first.

For our first night in Essaouira, Annie was to be my roommate. She and I had one simple request now that we had arrived in our new location, we wanted to enjoy an adult-type beverage with dinner. Sadly, that didn’t happen. However, we did run into other colleagues who’d been in Essaouira for the entire holiday. We agreed to meet up again that evening for drinks and catch up.

There are an incredible amount of stairs in Essaouira. The place we found for dinner, although no drinks, did have a view of the ocean, once we made it to the fourth floor. Johnna, in her persistent effort to try new things, ordered grilled shrimp. Sadly, Johnna’s not the biggest fan of seafood, especially when it still comes with its shell on, and has a fresh, salty, fishy (good fishy) taste to it. Thankfully, when we stood up to leave, the seagull who’d been watching and creeping closer quickly finished the remaining shrimp. It was quite the scene to watch this seagull standing on the table top and slide the shrimp effortlessly down its throat in one swift gulp for each shrimp.

Now, time for ice cream. Happily, the ice cream place was on the ground level, and next to where we met up with our colleagues for drinks. Drinks were on the fourth or fifth floor. I lost count as I kept thinking the stairs would end.

Our group of four happily grew to 11. We shared stories, laughed, and made plans to meet the next night for dinner. I didn’t realize it was possible, but I felt a bit like the character Pippen from the movie Lord of the Rings when they stopped at a pub and he was so excited to order a drink that came in a pint. Well, at this place, you could order a drink that was a liter! That’s insane, and huge.

Our party became smaller as children were tired and needed to be put to bed, but a few of us stayed for one last round. It was down to Annie and me to slowly finish and continue to relax and drink in the night. We then noticed a group of three folks enjoying the warmth of the fireplace next to us, and we all struck up a conversation.

A lovely group of Brits! The five of us stayed sharing stories out until who knows when, and this became my night of staying out like a rock star. We also managed to make several new Moroccan friends, who really just wanted a chance to practice their English. As teachers, who were Annie and I to protest? Needless to say, Annie and I slept in like the rock stars we were, and finally made it out for lunch. I love holiday!

Good Times in Marrakech

Friday, we hired a guide to show us around the city. This was by far the most brilliant thing ever. He asked us what we were interested in seeing, and that’s where he took us. If something came up along the way, he would ask if we were interested, and if so, would take us in, but if not, “No problem.”
We were treated to the glory of rug shopping. Sitting in a private room in the back of the store on lovely couches sipping mint tea and being educated about rugs. It worked well. Both Annie and Johnna bought a rug.
We then were continuing our game of follow-the-leader as he lead us through the maze of the souks (the market). He took us to a spice/herbal store. Again, we were seated in a private room with our own discussion of what all he had to offer. We also got brief neck and shoulder massages while there. It worked. Among the four of us, we spent almost $100 at the store, and managed to walk out with three ‘complimentary’ gifts each. This spoke volumes to us about how much we must have actually spent there.
Next, we headed to the museum and I admired all the artwork, displays, and traditional items. Had I been able to read French, I could tell you much more, but I promise, it was very lovely there. We then headed to what used to be a school for the young boys. They would attend from age 10 to 12 to study and learn the Koran. Although the building is no longer used as a school, it was amazing to see it. 132 rooms for 900 students. Do the math. Yep, that’s about 8 kids to a room. The ceilings were less than 2 meters high, and I doubt the floor space was much more than 2 or 2.5 square meters. In the corner of each room was a ladder which led to a room with the same dimensions. Four on the lower floor and four on the upper floor.
After our tour through the souks, we had lunch and decided to see the ramparts as the sun set. We did the total tourist thing and hired a horse drawn carriage to take us around for about an hour. It was a beautiful sight to see the burnt oranges hues change in intensity as the sun faded.
Dinner time. Time to head into the booths of over 100 restaurants. We maneuvered our way to one of the vendors we spoke with the previous night who promised us the food was, “Bloody Amazing!” I was also pleased because it was booth #75. And it did help as we stood deliberating about whether to eat there or not, the owner and cooks were able to get a fair amount of those dining under their tent to becoming a giant cheering squad that erupted even louder as we chose to dine there.
We took turns going up to see what there was to choose from, and as I went up, the owner was there to point out what everything was. Not in the mood to make a decision, I asked him what his favorite was. He began to list off a few things, and I asked him if he would just order for me – surprise me, I requested. Apparently, this is a bit more of an honor than I realized. With his hand over his heart, he promised he would take very good care of me. His eyes then lit up and he asked if I wanted to have my picture taken in the ‘kitchen’ which was really more of a cooking area. Before, I could answer, he grabbed my hand, and held up a curtain and I was suddenly up on milk crates with several cheering Moroccan, and holding different forms of food. It was hysterical!
Dinner was delicious and the owner continued to check on us all throughout our meal. By the end, he generously offered us to come back once it had slowed down to enjoy some champagne…around 2 or 3 in the morning. Had I not been catching a bus in the morning to Essaouira, I probably could have made it. But my days of being a rock star are numbered, and this was not going to be one of those nights.We wandered though the souks, did a bit more shopping, this time Julie made two small purchases, and we wound our way back to our hotel to pack and for another night of sleep before the next adventure.

Adventures in Marrakech

Marrakech is very different from Casablanca. The heart of Marrakech is this giant square where there are vendors, traffic, street performers, hustlers, and tourists all trying to survive.

On Thursday, after finally locating our hotel, we made our way to the main square for some lunch. We made our way to a restaurant, Aqua, which overlooked the bustling square below. It didn’t take long to understand where the name of the restaurant came from. Every five seconds or so, we were gently graced with a cool, aqua mist for our duration at this restaurant. It was my first experience dining while being misted, and it is rather enjoyable, especially when it’s freaking hot out!

After lunch, we wandered about the square, looking here and there at a few shops, and finally settled on the best one – an ice cream shop. It’s odd how much we all enjoyed the normalcy of being able to eat and drink in public during the day – we were out to enjoy all we had been missing in the past month. After ice cream and coffee at a street level table, we moved inside as the heavens began to pour! We ran into our good friends, whom I’ve decided to adopt at my parents for this Moroccan adventure (not their really quite old enough, but they’re just so amazingly kind and wonderful), and we exchanged stories.

The rain let up after a bit, and we headed back to our hotel to rest before making an adventure for dinner. As it turned out dinner was not much of an adventure, but what happened after words, sent Julie and I quickly back to our hotel room.

To walk off dinner, we walked through the square which had done quite the transformation. Every evening, 365 nights per year, over 100 restaurants set up. Each place offers about the same things and the prices are always the same – what gets you in is how good they are at charming you to choose their place. By the time we realized what all of this was, we had already eaten, but we enjoyed being told the food at one booth was, “Bloody Amazing!” Another charmer told us we were all too skinny and needed to eat again. We smiled, but kept walking.

In the square, crowds would gather around those playing games, telling stories or selling goods. Men with monkeys would come up to us and try to offer us a picture with the monkey, for money of course, there were snake charmers, women offering henna tattoos, and then there were the hat guys.

Red hat guy came up to Julie, and began to clap on his hand-held clappers, swing the tassel around on his hat and sing. I stayed with Julie as she appeared to be mildly entertained by the attention. The other two in our party drifted to the edge of the crowd and began a pleasant conversation with a couple of guys – still keeping an eye on the two of us. Red hat guy continued his literal song and dance, and then placed his hat on Julie’s head and called for a picture to be taken. She laughed pleasantly, and tried to give the hat back, but red hat guy was persistent. She smiled politely, dug out her camera and gave it to me. At this point, blue hat came on to the scene – trying to get in on the action. I suddenly didn’t care for our odds. Julie handed me her camera, and I quickly snapped a picture, but was told by red hat guy to take one more. I did.

Then, blue hat guy put his hat on me and I quickly removed it and gave it back to him. Just as quickly, he put it back on my head and called for another picture. I protested, but clearly failed. A picture exists of my failure. Then, money was asked for. Blue hat guy asked me for 20 Dirham (Dh). There was no way in the world I was dumb enough to hand over 20 dh for a picture I didn’t want taken. I pulled out all the coins I could collect as I felt his eyes trying to pry into my purse. I stretched out my hand to give him the coins and he insisted I give him 20 dh. I told him no, this was all I had. He then lifted his gown and wanted to make change for me. He kept saying “paper. Paper money.” I again insisted this was all I had. He then began mocking me and imitating my voice, but in a whiny third-grade style, “This is all I have! This is all I have!” As he angrily parroted my words back to me, I was able to shove the coins into his hands and realized Julie was at my side suffering a similar harassment from red hat guy, but not quite as severe. As soon as I have gotten the coins into his hands, he angrily threw them on the ground. He was able to take one step toward me before Julie and I bolted out of the crowd and hurriedly found our way through the maze to get back to our hotel. Once in the safety of our room, I texted our counterparts who were still in the square to let them know where we were. They said we moved so quickly. For them, we were there one second, and when they turned in the next second, we were nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, we just stayed in our rooms for the rest of the night, and slept very well.

Holiday begins in Marrakech

Marrakech is very different from Casablanca. It is smaller, about 1.5 million people. That still seems like a huge number coming from the girl who has primarily lived in states where livestock well outnumber the people. Anyway, Marrakech is very different from Casablanca.

Its streets are still busy with activity, but you don’t feel so close. There’s a bit more room to breathe, or it could be I was simply rejoicing the fact I’d made it through the first month of school with out a nervous breakdown. And my record of not kicking a student out of my room is also still in tact…barely.

The train to Marrakech was amazingly smooth and easy. A ticket for first class was about $15 and well worth it; it’s just over three hours to Marrakech from Casa, and in second class, you may have to stand, whereas in first class, you are guaranteed a seat. I was seated with my Casa-family and we laughed and told stories the whole ride down. Upon arrival, we all managed to pile into a ‘grand’ taxi together. Including the driver, that would be seven of us, with our luggage in one cab. Can you feel the love? Oh, it was there.

We were dropped at the end of one of several ‘pedestrian’ walk-ways that would eventually lead us to our ‘hotel.’ I say ‘pedestrian’ because simply cars and buses were not allowed, but people and two wheeled vehicles were. As for our ‘hotel,’ it was alright – once we found it. We missed it the first time. The most direct path was to find the tiny sign that led you down a ‘street’ wide enough for half a pedestrian and a motorcycle. At the end of this ‘street’ turn right and walk along a building for about 4 meters. Turn left. At the end of this wider street (car size – one car) turn left. Follow this motorcycle street to its end (about 10 meters) and turn right. Continue on this motorcycle street to its end, about 15 meters, and turn right, go 2 meters, turn left, and our hotel was about 8 meters down on the left. Really, I’m not kidding. This is how you get to the hotel we stayed in. Now, the amazing part of our budget hotel – there was a giant orange tree in the middle of the open court yard. It was quite beautiful. The rooms were pleasant enough, complete with two beds and a sink. There was a communal shower and toilet for the floor, but the shower room was gigantic. Probably about 4 square meters for a base and 3 meters high. It was a bit of a downer on Friday night/Saturday morning when most of Marrakech ran out of water. No flushing communal toilet Friday night, but it was working on Saturday, sadly not enough water for showers. At least we were on a bus to Essouara on Saturday and could shower upon arrival, which I did.

A Holiday’s Early Beginning

There’s nothing quite like waiting for those in charge to look at the evening sky to determine whether you will have school the following day. Well, that’s how things work when you work on the lunar calendar. As we were at school on Tuesday, September 30, we had reports that many of the other Muslim countries were already celebrating the Eid (a holiday/the end of Ramadan). The rumors had then begun that we would be starting our holiday a day early as well. Wouldn’t you know, by lunch time, it was official – we would not be having school on Wednesday! Holiday was off to a great start, by starting a day early! Nothing like knowing people were just sure they would being to see the moon that night, and we could finally eat, drink and be merry during daylight hours again! The next day, I knew it was official when I saw my neighbors across the street out on their porch having a cigarette and people in the street drinking from water bottles by 10am. I of course had to rely on this method of conformation, as I have no television. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter - again with the lack of understanding French and/or Moroccan Arabic.

Doing Things Differently for Ramadan

I apologize for not being able to post more, but I will do my best to make up for it. Especially for those reading my blog who are looking to kill a bit of time at work!

1. Purchasing alcohol. First, it’s all about who you know, and who they know, and if the place you have been directed to has enough black bags in stock. When I had just about run out of adult-type enjoyable beverages, a good friend of mine, also in the same dire position as me, spoke with a good friend of his, and we both learned about this little store just off from the tracks that was still selling alcohol during Ramadan; an offense, which, if caught, can land the store owner in SERIOUS trouble. However, I learned over my few years on this planet the importance of knowing the rules, so you know how to properly break them. My friend and I went into the store, and the entrance to the alcohol section had its roll-up iron curtain rolled two-thirds of the way down. He went in first. Shortly, he came back out and it was then my turn in our tag-team adventure. I ducked under the iron curtain, and quickly began my search. As soon as I had a couple of bottles of wine and a case of beer in hand, one of the store workers came up to me, relieved me of my choices, and quickly scooted me back under the curtain. He then met up at the front of the store with my illegal purchases conveniently wrapped in black plastic bags. My friend and I quickly checked out, and we were kindly escorted to his car, our items tucked safely, out of sight, in the trunk of his car.

2. Shopping in general. Shopping for things is naturally a bit of a challenge for me, as I do not speak French or Moroccan Arabic, but I’m sure you can just imagine how entertaining it is to watch me try! Anyway, during Ramadan, I have now learned that employees are allowed, by law, to end their work day anywhere from one to two hours before F’tour (the breaking of the fast). Therefore, stores that would normally stay open, close for anywhere from an hour or two they simply closing up shop early all together.

3. Driving. This is simply an odd thing here in Morocco to begin with. Lights and lines are mere suggestions to the average driver. It was clearly someone’s job to put up lights and paint lines, but it is much more evident that it is everyone else’s job to ignore their hard efforts. Now, imagine your schedule: eat ‘breakfast’ at sunset (about 6:30pm), then eat ‘dinner’ from 9-11:30pm, sleep until 3:30am, eat at 3:45am, and by 4am, nothing is to pass your lips until the breaking of the fast at the day’s sunset. So, you haven’t eaten in a good twelve hours, you had a crappy day at work, and now you get to drive home with about 2 million other people, who are just as hungry as you and in also in a foul mood. Dad, I know you don’t care for the traffic of Minneapolis or even Sioux Falls, but those places (let alone New York City) have nothing on over 2 million pissed off, hungry people all rushing home to finally eat, drink, brush teeth, and/or have a cigarette. Thankfully, people are now no longer as insane when driving home at the end of the day, but lights and lines are still mere pretty things to look at when driving.