The group spent this weekend in Essaouira, a small and surprisingly gorgeous seaside city. I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing buildings in colors other than Marrakech’s mandatory spectrum of dusty rose to warm red-brown. Essaouira’s whitewashed medina was accented with variations of the indescribable blue (“Majorelle blue”) with which I’m becoming obsessed.
12 February: Jeff
A man half-saunters, half-dances by, singing to himself in broken English.
“…Jam, jammin’…I wanna jammin’ wi’ you….ey! America!”
I look over at him (normally, not good to do).
“Excuse me? you are California?”
“Iyeh, ana min california…”
“California, you speak arab! Do you know Jeff?”
15 February: Time Flies (I Walk)
I can’t believe we’re leaving Marrakech already.
After our final exam for this first month of intensive Darija; after a lovely goodbye gathering with the host families; after a last little pilgrimage to drink the heavenly orange juice of Jemaa el-Fna: we’re leaving another rose city.
It’s strange, leaving now. Marrakech felt temporary, like the time to go had come, but I will miss the CLC (our school), its people, the comfort of the same Frarabic exchange with the taxi drivers each morning—
– “bghiit ghadia l’centre jdiid.”
– “ehh…quoi? feen?”
– “fi gueliz, hda sbitar r’hibat ou madrassat les soeurs.”
– *curt nod*
18 February: Fog Life
Last weekend, our visit to strange, sleepy coastal town Sidi Ifni flowed around a visit to the fog-collection project of Association Dar Si Hmad, an NGO based here in southwestern Morocco which “promotes and preserves local heritage and history, and acts as a platform for cultural exchanges nationally and internationally.” Jamila, the lovely anthropologist who is in some way at the reins of this, guided us around the various faces of the project. This is the most recent part of an ongoing effort to bring water to villages in the region where, as I understand it, people would routinely walk 1.5-2 hours to draw clean water from the ground. Now, framed mesh nets collect moisture as fog passes over the top of a lttle mountain: clean water, theoretically sustainable, 10L per square meter per day. The whole mechanism is impressive, but “the fog is the sexy part,” said Jamila.
In any case, it made me think a lot about tradition, and the limits of .
20 February: Tourists Trapped
We have a few days to explore before the beginning of our Fes program. This is the first time our group hasn’t been a single large wonderful herd. And as much as I love being with everybody, it has been great to have a break.
5 others and I spent a lovely day and a half moseying along the beach in Agadir, most blatant (but still lovely) tourist trap of them all. In fact, we entered a literal tourist trap, standing at the dead end of a path, flanked by souvenir shops on three sides. Next, to Tangier…
