I’m posting this a day late because I was not home at any point on Sunday. You’ll read the reason why shortly. This post is about the weekends we’ve been having here, which have all had great events. Tomorrow, the LC group leaves for the Sahara, where we’ll be for for five days. My post next week will be entirely devoted to that, so I wanted to take this post to show the kind of things I’ve been doing outside of class.
Marrakech Scavenger Hunt – January 17th
The day started with Mourad, Said (Mourad’s Friend), and I making our way from Messoura to the CLC, where we met up with the rest of the group members and their host siblings. The three of us were quickly put on a team with Carly, her host-sister, and a friend, and we named ourselves Medinat Hmera, the Red City. Marrakech is known as the Red City because of it’s characteristically red walls, everywhere, as opposed to Casablanca with its white walls. After we were in our teams, Hamza told us the rules; teams would be awarded points for both the pictures we took and for the items we brought back with us. It was at this point that Hamza told of us when the CLC organizers jokingly put, “Bring back a live goat,” only to have one team actually bring back a live goat. He said that it’s now not on the list, which made me think that there were no live animal requests on the list; I was wrong. Teams could bring back a live hedgehog, a live turtle, a live chicken (max 2), or a live donkey.
Medinat Hmera was the first team to leave, and right away the Marrakchi took over, reading the list and leading the way. Mourad was the fastest thinking, bringing us to all the places as quick as we could. We only had three hours, and Mourad made sure we used every possible second of it. We started by walking around Gueliz, stopping at some hospitals and schools, making our way to a church and mosque which are famous in Marrakech for being built right next to each other, as a sign of religious co-operation. Carly and I, being the only English speakers, were told to keep an eye out for any signs with misspelled English on it, but even in that we failed. Carly’s sister was the one to notice an ad for a nightclub that read, “Thursday is Laidies Night!” As soon as we had a picture between the church and the mosque, Mourad had us moving straight to the old city.
One the items on the list was pictures of the other teams. What this lead to was teams trying to avoid each other, so that we ended up not only having a scavenger hunt but a giant hide-and-seek game all over Marrakech. This is why there may or may not be a picture of me sprinting down Mohammed the V, a hand on my head to keep my hat on, as our team raced to get out of sight from Ryan’s team. This is also why, about an hour into the hunt, I could be seen sprinting between horse carriages outside the Jama el Feena, or why some Marrakchi may have seen me hiding behind a stall in the old slave market. For my part, I have no comment to make on the matter.
We ended the hunt at 12:15, back at the CLC, all of us tired and hungry. I forget what most of our items were, except for the live turtle and live chicken, which Mourad bought in a souk near the Jewish Quarter of the old city. The chicken was donated to the CLC kitchens, and Carly’s sister took the turtle. Our team sat with Hamza, going over the list and us showing him all we had found, and then we waited. One by one, all of the other teams trickled in. After lunch, I played a pick-up game of basketball in the CLC courtyard, which slowly got bigger and bigger as dozens of young kids arrived for their Saturday English lessons. Said left at 12:30, and I could see Mourad growing anxious, since he still had to work that day. Finally, Hamza came out and announced that Medinat Hmera was the winning team. Success! Our prize was a set of mint candles and a chocolate bar for each of us. I gave the candles to Mama Fatima and kept the chocolate.
Hiking in the Mountains – January 18th
This story starts in the town of Azoud, in the foothills of the Atlas. When we left Marrakech, it was raining and cloudy, and by the end of the hour long drive, the weather had only improved marginally. Our guide for the day, Latifah, met us in town, and after a quick explanation of the route, we set off. Our first stop, after about thirty minutes of hiking, was a small village of thirty-six families that was entirely devoted to the making pottery.
We were invited into several homes in small groups, and I watched a man mold a tagine on a simple pottery wheel. To one of the Marrakchi that came alone (who translated for the Americans), he said that he spent his week making tagine’s out of a thirty pound lump of clay. He would spend the first few days making them, and another few days making them all in the kiln. He did this all on his own property, with tools he owned. After making the tagine, he took us outside to his kiln, which was basically a giant brick circle with a hole in the bottom for him to put a fire. The people of this village all lived simple lives like this, in small houses with poor insulation, surrounded by miles of farmland.
After the first village, we set off into this farmland, led by Latifah and joined by Mahmud, who brought along his donkey, Kristine, which was carrying our food. For much of this leg of the journey, Kristine also carried Peyton and either Beatrix or Phineas, whichever of the twins was more tired at the moment. Latifah led us up and down several hills that were covered in either farmland or woods. At the top of each hill, we would stop and look out over the plains below, which seemed vast and limitless. From previous lectures, I knew that the majority of Morocco’s population lived in that area, but from where we stood, the land seemed empty.
Coming down from the second-to-last hill, Latifah led us into a steep river valley, right towards the river. We had been hiking for about two hours since the last village, and I was going to ask Latifah where we were going to have lunch. Just before I did, however, she turned and said, “I love bringing Americans out here. Marrakchi, they always complain; ‘I’m tired, my feet hurt, this is too long, when are we getting lunch?’ But Americans, you just walk, no complaining.” I smiled and thanked her, and spent the rest of the hike glad I hadn’t spoken before her.
We crossed the river on four stepping stones which the locals had obviously stacked for just such a purpose. I was one of the first across, with Sam just behind me. After we were across, she jokingly said, “Any bets on who will fall in first?” After discussing it, we made our bets; I won’t say who, but will just leave it at nobody fell in.
Once everyone was across, Latifah led us up one last hill to a village that had been founded in the 12th century. It was built right into the side of a hill, and ran all the way from the river to a road at the very top, where a group of young men were playing soccer when we arrived. A family graciously invited us into their home when we arrived, and they served us a massive lunch of chicken tagine and grilled lamb. When the lunch was finished, we lounged on their rooftop while we watched the soccer players below. After a while, a van came and drove us back down the hill. We eventually got back to Marrakech at about 6 pm that night, exhausted and dusty.
The Sites of Marrakech – January 24th
For this trip, Mourad again joined the main group. Michael Fitzgerald, the Director of the CLC, was our guide, and he took us to four sites around Marrakech. The first, the Manara Gardens, lies just outside the Old City, and is a vast field of olive trees. In the center, there was a giant, man-made pool, filled with a murky, brown water and inhabited by a large amount of carp. Michael bought us bread that we could throw in to feed the fish. If the chunks were large enough, watching the fish eat was a little like watching Jaws; when one took a bite, it pulled the chunk under a little, then let go, and it popped back up. After we did a lap around the pool, we ended at a small house where the old Kings of Morocco would go to relax away from the city. It looked out over the field, and in the distance you could see the heights of the Atlas mountains, which are the replacement of the horizon for about 2/3rds of the city.
After the Gardens, Michael took us to the Koutoubiyya Mosque, the first sight in the Old City. It has the tallest minaret in all of Marrakech, and Michael explained to us how the golden statue at the top would be a way for travelers to find their way to Marrakech, as it was visible from more than forty miles away. The name, Koutoubiyya, means “Book Market,” and is named such because the square outside the mosque used to be the sight of a massive book market (this is the kind of explanation that Ryan would call ‘academic’). The most interesting part to me was that the Mosque was still in use as a Mosque; it had seen hundreds of years of history, as Morocco rose and fell as a nation, as its center of power switched between Marrakech, Fes, Casablanca, and Rabat. It’s an incredible building to me, not only for its age but because it still stands, strong as ever.
From the Mosque, we went to the El Badi Palace, which was built in the 16th century. Now, it is only ruins, but you could still see and understand the layout of the building. There was an outer and an inner wall, with a space of about twenty feet in between, and strong towers connecting them. The space in between the walls had grated holes in the ground, which Mourad guessed were air-holes for the dungeons below. Inside the inner wall was a large courtyard, which had pools and fountains for swimming and gardens for orange trees. Michael explained how the palace was built, and how the Jewish Quarter was placed right outside the palace to show that they had the King’s protection.
Our final stop was the Ben Youssef Madrasa, in the very heart of the old city. Michael took us first to the tiled courtyard, where we sat in a circle and listened to him talk about the history of the Madrasa. After he talked, he let us wander around the building, which was entirely open to tourists. The courtyard formed the center of the building, and around it were maybe a hundred small, cell-like dorms. There would be maybe eight formed around other, smaller courtyards. On the first floor, the only window into the dorm was through the door, while on the second floor, the larger rooms had windows out onto the street or into the main courtyard. It was incredible to me; I am now finishing my four years of college, and here was what it was like in the 16th century, with students still crammed into close living quarters on a single campus. I had always known that the modern University system was based off the old Moroccan universities, but I had never seen such a vivid demonstration of this as this building.
24 Hours in Agadir – January 25th
Despite my title for this story, it’s more accurate to say that I only spent about 17 hours in Agadir; the other seven were for traveling there and back, crammed into a rented Chevy Cruse with Mourad, Said, Omar, and Yousef. We left at about five in the morning, and got to Agadir at about 10.
Our main reason for going to Agadir wasn’t until five, so while we waited we hung out at Agadir’s beach. Agadir’s main waterfront resembles Honolulu; a long stretch of beach, with a road running above it, and restaurants and stores just beyond it. Maybe, to those who are versed in such matters, it might more closely resemble Miami, but I have never been to Florida, so I wouldn’t know. We swam in the water, which Mourad said was the coldest he had ever been in, but felt slightly warmer than Monterey to me.
After the waterfront, we had lunch in a crowded souk, well off the main Agadir path. It was the kind of place that I immediately thought was not a normal tourist spot. We ate grilled sardines and fried shrimp, and it was possibly the freshest fish I’ve ever eaten. Like every meal, we didn’t eat it with flatware, only bread. It was delicious, and I admit, even though none of the Marrakchi did this, that I even ate the eyes of the fish, which were a nice, refreshing end to the salty fish.
The main reason we went to Agadir, however, was not the beach, nor the water, nor the fish. The Marrakech Football team would be playing Agadir that night, the first time that Marrakech would play Agadir in their new stadium. The game began at 7, but we showed up to the stadium at 5. We were frisked entering through the main gates, and it was there that my flashlight was taken-off of my key-chain by a very insistent policeman. I found out later that it was because he probably thought it was a laser pointer that I would shine in the goalies eyes, but at the time I had no idea why he was taking it. “It’s only a flashlight,” I repeatedly said. “Absolutely not,” he replied, and then finally said, “After, you meet me here, and I’ll give it back to you, okay?” I thought, We both know that’s not going to happen, but I only said, “Okay,” and then I was through the gates. At the entrance to the actual stadium, we were frisked again, and then we were finally in.
We didn’t bring anything to drink with us, and I distinctly remember thinking to myself, I am really thirsty. I asked Mourad if there was a place to buy water, but he said there wasn’t. Police were already waiting in the stadium, carrying batons and riot helmets. The section of the stadium for Marrakchi fans was separated by fence from the other sections, and I watched as thousands of fans filed into the stadium. Two hours before the game, and they were already chanting. We were sitting at the top of the stadium, in the last row, and every now and then I would hear yelling from the railings behind us, and we would rush to watch Agadir fans rushing towards the column of Marakchi fans. There would be brawling until the police broke it up, and then after a little bit there would be another rush.
Finally, at seven, the stadium was filled and the game began. Marrakech scored at the end of the first half, then held on all the way through the second half, stopping attempt after attempt from Agadir. By the end, Marrakech had won 1-0. All the while, I could only think, I am really thirsty. With the game over, the Agadir fans began to file out, while all of the Marrakchi fans waited inside the stadium.
I think we waited for about an hour and a half. Out of boredom, some of the fans began to literally take apart the stadium, removing railings from the ground and throwing them over the side of the stadium. At the time, I thought the Crazy Boys (as Marrakchi fans are called) we’re going a little over the top, but I did not know about the rioting outside. Mourad later told me that thirty police officers went to the hospital that night, while in the main city of Agadir, angry fans crushed cars and broke windows. The Marrakchi did not escape either; when we were finally allowed to leave, the several vans that had carried the 3,000 Crazy Boys to the game had broken windows and bent sides. In the parking lot, we waited another hour before we finally started driving out, which took us another thirty minutes to an hour. During it all, all I could really think was I am really, really, really thirsty.
For me, this story ends at 2 am, when we stopped at a rest station half-way between Agadir and Morocco. When we had stopped, Said and Omar began to wander off, and Mourad told me there were going to a store across the highway. I immediately got up to go with them. At this point, it had been about nine hours since I first noticed I was thirsty, and I had not had a single drink of water since. I bought a bottle of Sidi Ali for five dirhams, and drank the whole bottle right there in the store. I am not trying to be melodramatic when I say that I briefly thought I would start crying from relief. Said and Omar, on the other hand, both got coffees, and drank them slowly while looking at me like I was crazy.
When we got back to the car, we saw several tall men in track suits getting out of a bus. Said immediately recognized them as the Marrakchi team, and we got Mourad out of the car. I took pictures of him standing with two of the players, beaming from ear to ear. Some people might say that I should have gotten a picture too, that I would never have this kind of chance again. But, as I watched Mourad, who has been so kind and generous to me since I got here, who had been excited for this game when I first got here, and probably before, who had been singing the Crazy Boys song since the first night I met him, I knew that he was having a moment. It was the kind of moment that only a fanatic can have when he meets two members of his team, and it was making the whole trip, with its long waiting and its threats of being stoned by angry Agadir fans and me complaining (not much, but I was really happy when we got out of that stadium), completely worth it. And, honestly, I didn’t want to ruin that moment for him with stupid questions like, “Who are these players?” and “Can I get a picture?”