Of all the places we were planning to visit on this sabbatical, Morocco was one of the highest on my list, and not just because I wanted to add another continent notch on my belt. Me We very nearly didn’t make it there because of health issues and timing, but I am so glad we did. It was a short flight from Seville to Tangier, but we were clearly in a very different part of the world.
I don’t know what you imagine when you think of Morocco. I suppose I imagined lots of sand, heat, camels, desert, and minarets. While there is a lot of sand (and I hear there are camels) where Morocco meets the Sahara, the coastline of the country is green, hilly, and agricultural. Even though we were there to see commercial strawberry production, I was unprepared for the amount of land devoted to growing produce; we saw potatoes, oranges, bananas, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, even rice.
Morocco is similar in size, shape, coastline, and population to California. We snaked along the coast from Tangier in our huge Peugeot rental van, snaking through fields and sheep along the way Morocco is definitely in the throes of development, and our little town near the coast was a mix of good roads, a beautiful coastline plaza, crumbling cement houses, faded paint, and boys playing soccer in a muddy pasture. The people we saw were a cultural assortment as well. We were far, far from any tourist area, yet I saw women wearing everything from tight pants and short hair to a few wearing full burqas. Even some of the men were wearing the traditional djellaba.
As we drove through the faded and dilapidated village, I found myself wondering what our hotel would be like. I knew better than to worry, however. Our marketing friends have always taken very good care of us, and this time was no exception. We walked into a quiet white and blue courtyard, where our bedroom had a front-row view to the sunset over the Atlantic. Once again, I was surprised by all the beauty in this new place.
The hotel manager was an expat French, and as I listened to her speak with Mamen, my mind exploded. I’ve been working really hard to rehabilitate my old university Spanish. I don’t speak any Arabic, but we had hastily learned “salaam alaikum” (peace be upon you, the traditional greeting), and “shukran” (thank you). I had also taken a couple of years of French at NC State, but none of my languages were fresh enough to handle the onslaught. I was struggling to get out a maneagable “bon soir” to our host. We had a lovely four-course French dinner with a Moroccan wine (?!?!?! Apparently, Moroccans drink quite a bit, they just don’t do it in public. Another stereotype gone).
We hadn’t actually “done” anything in our first afternoon in Morocco, but it had been an experience all in itself.
Wonder and Wander 