So, Africa huh? That's a whole other continent, hey. Visiting Morocco was a very interesting experience for me, it definitely had its ups and downs but in the end I'm really glad I went, not just for Morocco itself but also because I think it was fantastic preparation for some of the things we will encounter in South America. To put it in the wankiest way possible, I feel like it made me a more savvy traveller.
Firstly, the travel talk. We caught a ferry over from Tarifa in the south of Spain and in a little over an hour we were in Tangier in the north of Africa. Of course there's a lot more to it than that, it was probably the most hellish travel day of my life and really tested my patience, my fledgling Spanish, and my faith in public transport. But long story short, we made it to Tangier. We caught an overpriced taxi from the port to the medina and were shown to our hostel by a helpful local kid who then demanded 2 euros from us. This is a pretty regulation arrival in Tangier.
Tangier in the 1930s - early 1960s was a very different place than it is now. Under international rule at the time, it had very relaxed laws towards homosexuality and drugs, both of which were incredibly taboo in the rest of the world. For this reason it attracted a plethora of artists, musicians and writers from the western world who were seduced by the lax regulations and inspired by the natural beauty of the place. To see it today, it is very hard to imagine the debauchery that was rife only 60 years ago. Nightclubs and bars have been replaced with male-only cafes and carpet sellers. Despite the hostel owner telling me I didn't really need to 'cover up' in Tangier because it's so 'chilled' I still copped a fair amount of staring when I ventured out on our first day in a loose knee-length dress and long sleeved shirt. I quickly bought some harem pants in an attempt to 'fit in'.
Our time in Tangier was spent mostly exploring the medina, which is an unmappable maze of streets in the old town, full of shops, cafes and people trying to 'help' you AKA do whatever they can to get money out of you. We also took a day trip out to Asilah, which is a beautiful seaside town painted completely white and then given over to local artists to paint whatever they want using the towns walls as their canvas. They repaint and update the artwork regularly so it will be different every time you visit. It was a very cool place. We also spent a bit of time on the hostel's rooftop terrace where we could escape the hustle and bustle of the medina, eat pastries and hang out with other travellers. The terrace had amazing views of the medina and the beach, and was in the best location to hear the calls to prayer from all the surrounding mosques.
Our next stop was the incredible Chefchaouen (I can actually spell that without having to look it up now), commonly referred to as the Blue City. The entire medina is painted in various shades of blue - walls, floors, staircases, doors, EVERYTHING, even the pet dogs. I'm kidding guys, Moroccans do not have pets. It was beyond stunning, you really need to see it to believe it and I strongly encourage everyone to visit Chefchaouen. It's a much more relaxed city, the people are friendly, the hawkers are much less aggressive and it's at the foot of a mountain. Eric Clapton is buying a house there you guys, I'm telling you this city is going to be the next big thing.
Fes was our next destination, a whirlwind visit as we only had one full day. We decided to take the walking tour of the medina from our hostel, as this seemed much easier than tackling it on our own (the medina of Fes has 9,500 streets, incredibly daunting for anyone who hasn't grown up there). Our tour guide Abdul Ali was the best. He introduced himself by saying 'you can call me Abdul Ali, or you can call me Abdul, or you can call me Ali, or you can call me friend... or you can call me whatever you want'. Excellent. Our three hour tour turned into a 5.5 hour tour, as he showed us around, pointed out some amazing buildings, took us to the tanneries, and walked us through the gross part of the market where the live animals were (I accidentally saw a chicken being slaughtered - that wasn't part of the tour). He was also a great talker, very keen to break down any cultural barriers - 'I don't believe in taboos' he said. He explained a lot about Islam and Moroccan culture (and importantly, the difference between the two), gave us a better understanding of the purpose of Ramadan and then showed us a spot to get a delicious and cheap lunch. Top bloke.
On the walking tour we met a few sydneysiders (most of the Aussies we have met have been from Sydney, and they've all been lovely. Stereotype quashed!) who were keen to head into the desert the next day, so we tacked ourselves on to them and got up at the crack of dawn the following day to start the long drive Sahara bound. Thankfully we had been given a people mover with great aircon so it was a relatively comfortable journey. A few stops along the way at the monkey forest, the high atlas and an incredible river gorge (totally understand the meaning of the term 'desert oasis' now) and we finally arrived at the Sahara just in time to mount our camels for a lovely ride through the sunset. Well, I assume there was a sunset, it was very overcast and there was a storm rolling in. Still, we powered on with our camels (I named mine Mereen. She was lovely) and our Berber guide, getting to camp in time to bust out some sandboarding before dinner and get caught in a small desert storm, before sleeping out under the stars (on mattresses that we later found out were likely to be riddled with bedbugs). It was a pretty amazing experience.
A sunrise camel ride, and another long day's drive later, we arrived in Marrakech. Marrakech is probably the most entry level of all the Moroccan cities we visited. The shops in the souks are very much aimed towards tourists, pretty much every restaurant has a menu in English, and city life is not focused around the medina but a massive square called Place Jamma el Fna. This square really is the vibrant heart of the city, with orange juice sellers, nut stalls, ladies doing henna, fortune tellers, restaurants, dancers, as well as things I would have preferred not to see - snake charmers (cruel, and frankly very underwhelming) and monkeys on chains (just awful). Our hostel in Marrakech was ridiculous, like a tiny palace for backpackers. We spent a lot of time in the pool, laying by the pool, talking to people around the pool, venturing out daily to explore and eat. Ate camel for the first time (sorry Mereen) and it was delicious. A very sweet meat.
Now, for my thoughts. Stop reading now if you're prone to falling asleep easily. I found Morocco to be a very difficult country. I don't know what I was expecting, but I think subconsciously I just assumed it would be similar to Cambodia. It is not. It's incredibly difficult to have a genuine interaction with a Moroccan person. Everybody who speaks to you wants something from you, generally your money. They see a westerner and they see dollar signs. It became increasingly frustrating to be offered 'assistance' to find somewhere and then be taking to a completely different place. Or to have people flat out lie to us in order to get us to come into their shop. It's not in mine or Dave's nature to assume that people are inherently bad, but it became much easier to dismiss people straight off the bat before they had a chance to scam you. And then of course, they got offended, claiming that they weren't like that etc etc. In our worst interaction we were 'helped' across the road by a guy in Tangier who then started chatting to us and told us he knew a great place for dinner, with great views and a really cheap menu. We were very hesitant, said we could find our own dinner but he insisted, saying that he didn't want anything from us, he hates that other Moroccans try and scam westerners and he just wanted us to eat at the best place he knows. So we finally agreed to go along with him after he spent 10 minutes assuring us that it was all above board. Our suspicions were raised as we started following him deeper and deeper into the medina, and the cost of this 'cheap meal' somehow crept up from 50 dirhams each (about €5) to 100 dirhams each. We eventually reached our destination, surprise surprise it was a carpet shop. We turned to leave but he says no, no, the restaurant is up the top. We meet the owner, he takes us upstairs. With each flight of stairs it feels more and more wrong. Once at the top we see the 'restaurant' - it's the rooftop terrace of his home. Sure does have a great view though. Sit down, they tell us. Special menu tonight for you, 150 dirhams each. We have been had in the most comprehensive way. It takes us 10 minutes to convince them to let us leave, that we don't want to eat here, we don't feel comfortable and it's too expensive. Once we're finally back down on the street our 'friend' is very angry with us, presumably because he's just missed out on his cut from what we would have paid the owner. He even tries to convince us to go with him to ANOTHER restaurant. We are done, we refuse to go with him and give him 10 dirhams as thanks for the 'pleasure of being scammed by you'. This is a genuine expectation, that you will pay them even though they wasted your time and tried to rip you off. He looks at the coin in disgust telling us it is not enough, he can't even buy a litre of milk with that. Same guy who 'wanted nothing from us' and 'hates the reputation that Moroccans have'. Unfortunately, for us and for the people of Morocco, this was the last time we trusted a word anybody said. It was day three of our visit.
For this reason, everything in Morocco takes longer than you think it will. Want to go to the patisserie 100 metres from the hostel and buy a couple of millefueille? That will take at least 10 minutes, as you fend off men offering drugs, shoo away kids offering to 'show you the way', get stuck behind a donkey carrying soft drinks, or make way for a game of soccer in the narrow streets of the medina (which Dave always tried to join in). If you need to catch a taxi, give yourself an extra twenty minutes to barter with several drivers until you get down to what you think is a 'good price'. It will still be three times as expensive than if they turned the meter on (they won't) but if it's less than half of what they originally quoted you'll feel like you've had a win. You haven't, they know how to play this game much better than you ever will. It's not unusual to spend an hour in a shop, haggling over the price of something. Moroccans are very patient people, they will literally just wait you out. So be prepared to go home empty handed unless you're in it for the long haul.
I also struggled with the expectation of modesty from women. I dressed in a way that I considered to be conservative, long pants and a t shirt most days which was difficult considering that the temperature hovered around 40 degrees the entire time. I still received plenty of judgemental eyes, most often from other women. This I really struggled with, as I respect any woman's right to dress however she chooses (I'm not going to get into a discussion around women being forced to cover themselves, that's a completely separate issue). If a woman chooses to wear revealing clothes it does not make her a 'slut' or deserving of sexual harassment, conversely, if a woman chooses to cover herself it does not mean that she is oppressed. We cannot judge based solely on clothing choices. However, it was obvious to me that I was not receiving the same respect from some women (and men) based on how I chose to dress. I believe this is due to a difference in education and opportunities to experience different cultures, not because these women are bad people. I wish I had more opportunities to interact with the local women to better understand them, however it was very difficult as nearly everybody who speaks to you, whether it be approaching you on the street or serving you at a cafe or shop is male.
One afternoon Dave and I went to the beach in Tangier, where I was one of a handful of women wearing a bikini (most women swam in long pants and shirts or not at all). I made a shocking faux pas, one that still makes me cringe every time I think about it. Dave had gone in for a swim and I was sunbathing, minding our stuff. He came back and told me to go in but I didn't feel comfortable going on my own. We were discussing whether or not it would be safe to leave our bag and that maybe we could ask somebody to mind it, when the woman next to us babysitting a horde of children, who had obviously figured out what we were talking about offered to keep an eye on it. She spoke in Arabic so we didn't understand her words, but it was clear from her gestures what she was suggesting. It was really nice of her and I said thanks in French and Spanish (they speak a thousand languages in Morocco, you really need to hedge your bets). But I also gave her a little bow. I was trying to show my gratitude without language, so instinctively I bowed.
I bowed.
To a woman wearing a hijab.
While I was wearing a bikini.
I am the worst.
Later while Dave and I were swimming, I got caught under a wave and as I swam up and found my feet a local guy accidentally brushed past my arm. Both of our faults as neither of us were looking where we were going. So I said to him 'pardon'. He also said 'pardon'. But not to me. To Dave. As if he were apologising for touching something that belonged to Dave. I'm sure it was done out of respect for me, but it sat really uneasily with me.
I wish this wasn't sounding so negative, because we did notice some really nice aspects of Moroccan culture. It was not unusual to see several sets of parents looking after a whole bunch of kids and it was not obvious which children belonged to which parents, they were all treated equally. Older siblings were also very active in the care of their younger brothers and sisters in a way that you don't often see at home. The saying 'it takes a village to raise a child' was very evident in Morocco where the care of children appeared to be shared by the community. The kids are also the cutest of any country I've been to so far. If stealing babies were not frowned upon I would have come home with dozens.
We also had a really nice experience in Tangier, where two rival restaurants next door to each other were vying for our business. We chose one of them to eat at but felt bad for the other one and promised to come back tomorrow and eat there. They were very skeptical (I'm sure people say this all the time) but when we returned the next day they were so happy. Dave was even welcomed with a salute from one of the waiters who appreciated him keeping his word. They looked after us really well that night and from then on they would greet us and chat to us every time we walked past.
I guess the overwhelming feeling I had when leaving Morocco was one of exhaustion. It is an exhausting place to visit. Constantly fending people off, haggling for ages over the price of something, not knowing whether to trust what people say, this makes for a very tiring time. On our last day as we were waiting to board the ferry back to Spain a man came up to us and told us we needed to go in a particular direction for boarding. He also had a bunch of yellow customs forms with him and offered us one each. We lied and said we already had them, and then double checked his directions with someone else. In all reality he probably worked for the port. But our immediate suspicion was that he was sending us to the wrong spot and that he was going to ask us for money if we took the forms from him. Two weeks in Morocco had made us very jaded.
Would I recommend that you visit Morocco? If you have ever though that you would like to, then you absolutely should. It's definitely a place that you should experience for yourself before making any judgement. It's also probably a country that becomes much easier over time, as all the people we met who had been there for a month or more had only positive things to say about it. Would I go back? Yes. But I would chose to spend more time on the south west coast in more relaxed towns, rather than the bustling cities. As with anywhere, once the pace of life slows down people seem to be friendlier and more welcoming. This is the side of Morocco I would love to see.
Well I think I've prattled on for long enough, and the beach is calling my name so I will leave it at that. Take care and maybe hi five a stranger today. People love that. xox
morocco = egypt. Please don't go there
ReplyDeleteVery different countries. Morocco is very safe and has a long history of people of many religions living together peacefully. We are not going to Egypt.
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