Finally, the intensive Program ended, and eight hours later Jessica and I were on a 5 hour bus from Bilbao to Madrid, then on a 2 hour flight from Madrid to Marrakech, then on a 3 hour bus from Marrakech to Essaouira, which all added up to one of the longest travel days ever...
But we made it to Essaouira, the small seaside town on the Moroccan coast, known for its beaches, its wind and its kitesurfing. It was my first real glimpse of Morocco, and I had no idea what to expect. Quickly I decided it's like no where I've ever been before... though I suppose if I had to compare, I'd call it 2 parts Tijuana, 1 part Greece and 1 part Israel. But, that only conveys its physical appearance - the true charm of Morocco is in the hospitality and friendliness of the people, which we quickly discovered.
We arrived off the bus, and immediately men with foot carts tried to sell us transportation to our riad. We declined and headed off walking.
 |
| Bob Marrakech, one of the doors to the Medina |
We entered Bob Marrakech, one of the doors into the medina, and began an attempt to find our riad among the winding, crowded, dirty, smelly streets. There's a hustle and chaos to the streets of the medina- children playing soccer, scooters and bikes zooming without caution, street vendors hawking everything from prickly pear fruit, roasted peanuts and fresh squeezed orange juice, to rugs, jewelry, shoes, woodworking and more. We turned down a side street, which was filled with garbage and dirt, and finally found the door of our riad.
 |
| Jess walking down our riad's street |
 |
| A very calm street in the medina of Essaouira |
Riads are Morocco's version of a bed and breakfast and are usually homes converted into cozy hotels. I stepped into our riad and felt transported into a different world. The building was open in the middle, so that sun and breezes could pass through. The surrounding sitting area was sheltered from the strong sun by immaculately clean tiled walls and an intricately woodworked ceiling. Low couches with pillows, soft music, incense and candles created a calming oasis which contrasted sharply to the chaos on the other side of the door.
 |
| The sitting area of our Riad in Essaouira |
We checked in and showered, washing away the long travel hours. Our riad host, Omar, made us a glass of the famous Moroccan mint tea and showed us a map, pointing out everything we might want to see in Essaouira. Both Jessica and I were exhausted, but also in need of a good meal. Omar offered us the Moroccan version of take out and we accepted. So, to prepare our meal, Omar’s assistant ran down to the market, purchased food for a meal, and dropped the raw food off at a restaurant. The restaurant cooked the meal and Omar picked it up when it was ready. Later that night the three of us - Omar, Jessica and I - dined on a delicious tagine of chicken, preserved lemons and green olives. Tagine is as traditional Moroccan way of cooking. The ceramic cooking tool is the "tagine" part, with a plate on bottom and conical top. Any mixture of food is put inside -sometimes seafood and veggies, sometimes beef, sometimes the traditional chicken, olives and preserved lemon. Then the entire thing is put in the fire for an hour or so. The food inside steams, the flavors mix and the result is a delicious sort of stew. Omar was great company, and at the end of the night insisted on paying for our meal. It was the warmest, kindest, most enjoyable welcome to Morocco we could have received.
 |
| Jess and I, about to eat our first Moroccan tagine |
The next three days were spent sleeping in, sunbathing on the terrace, shopping in the medina, and sitting at the beach. Day after day we encountered friendly Moroccans; some were motivated by sales, but others simply wanted to chat and show us what they offered. For example, we were wandering the medina one day and came upon a beautiful spice shop. Dried herbs and flowers lined the outer wall, overflowing into sacks lining the street with various spices and concoctions. The shop owner was sitting outside, and noticed Jessica sniffling. He called out to us and said, "I have something to help, one moment please." He disappeared around the corner and came back with a piece of pink silk. He took us into his shop - the inside of which was just as beautifully decorated as the outside, with flowers and jars on the walls and an argan nut shell floor. He took a jar off the wall, put some of its contents into the silk, tied it up, crushed it in his palm and then stuck the little satchel up to Jessica's nostril, plugging her other nostril with his finger and insisting she "breathe". Jessica obediently followed, and the man repeated it on her other nostril. The man acted so confidently and swiftly that neither of us registered the hilarity of his actions until afterwards. The spice was some sort of menthol and did indeed clear Jessica’s sinuses. The man refused payment for the satchel, and then gave us a tour of his shop. There were fragrances, spices, medicines, herbs, oils, makeup, and a little old lady sitting in the corner grinding argan nuts into oil. He explained many different items to us and never once asked us to buy something. He genuinely seemed happy to have us there and be able to show us his work.
 |
| The outside of the medicine man's shop |
 |
| Me taking the Medicine Man's grand tour |
 |
| Various herbs and concoctions in the Medicine Man's store |
 |
| Jess utilizing her "medicine" |
Morocco is the first Muslim country I’ve ever visited and before we left, I was nervous about what I should wear. The vast majority of woman in Morocco dress traditionally, completely swathed in cloth, covered from head to toe. There were varying degrees of this dress - some wore the full gown and head covering with only their eyes peeking out, some wore the traditional gown with no head covering, some wore conservative western style clothing with or without a head covering. Seeing women dressed this way was a bit jarring to me at first, but I eventually grew accustomed to it and almost became jealous - think of all the bloating you could hide under there! Then I remembered how hot it was and my jealousy quickly passed... The traditional dress made it easy to spot tourists, and in the first few days, I tried to keep my shoulders, chest and legs covered out of respect for the local culture. However, I quickly realized how accustomed Moroccans in Essaouira were to tourists dressing in comparatively nothing, so I eventually went back to my standard wardrobe. Later in the week, another woman told me that in Fes, a northern Moroccan city, she received excessive attention and felt incredibly uncomfortable to be wearing even conservative western dress. But, we all agreed that we felt completely welcomed in both Marrakech and Essaouira with whatever state of dress we chose.
Before we arrived, I also wondered what the Morroccan beach culture would be like. For sure, the Essaouira beach was not like an American beach. There was water, and sand, and beach chairs... but there were also men playing soccer, camels you could ride, tourists in bikinis and women sitting on towels in full traditional birkas. At one point, I was walking on the beach and saw a group of local girls together. One was wearing a western bathing suit, one was wearing a full birka and one was dressed somewhere in between. I wondered at their diversity, but Omar later told me that the level of woman's dress had to do with simply their level of religious belief. That made more sense to me as I thought about the religious diversity among my own friends. But, to wear your religious beliefs so outwardly is still fascinating to me.
 |
| The view from our Riad's terrace |
 |
| Camels, tourists and windsurfing at the beach |
 |
| Soccer and locals at the beach |
 |
| A delicious tagine, cous cous meal and avocado "juice" |
 |
| One of the friends we made in the market. He made us tea and tried to sell us ridiculously large rings. I bought one. duh. |
 |
| Jess with Omar and Omar's assistant, Omar. Enjoying olives and wine in the Riad. |
