I was the last one to get on the bus: from my wake up at 6:45 to the bus leaving at a soft 7:00, I had ended up missing my tram stop, which ended up with me running a very quick half kilometer before I had even entirely woken up.

From there, we drove down to Tarifa, the closest point to Africa. We hopped on a ferry, and about 30 minutes later, we were in Africa.

 

Africa, to tell you the truth, does not feel particularly different than anywhere else in the world. It’s a little more chaotic, it definitely smells a little like you would expect Africa to smell, but at the end of the day, your feet are on the ground, there are people out and about, there are plants. It is, after all, only a few miles away from Spain.

We landed in Tanger and immediately headed up to a women’s center where we met with three young women from there. They were all studying there, and we had a conversation over the meal in regards to the country, a little on politics, and the life of a student in Tanger.

We were a group of about 15, all American’s living in Seville with my program, lead by an incredible guide, Marissa, who originally came to Morocco for Peace Corps, but who now lives in Morocco full time.

After that lunch, we drove along the coast to a beach town called Asilah, where we stopped at a bakery to eat some bread and this delicious and burning hot hummus type thing: so good. We walked through the town, then eventually along the beach before hopping back in the van and riding into Rabat, where we would stay the next couple of days.

The homestays we stayed in hosted 2-3 people. I stayed with my friend Lowell, who was a bit culture shocked by the whole thing. We were picked up by our host brother for the next two days, Salim, after which we were treated to a delicious meal prepared in a tajine before we went to bed. The accommodation was comfortable but quite different. We ended up in a house with a girl who was in Morocco for a whole semester, who had a lot of interesting experiences to share-her life was completely different than ours in Seville. It’s harder for her to go out to eat, to make friends, to learn the language, to everything.

We had a great breakfast of fried bread with a jam and a buttery cheese. Also prepared was a rich coffee. Morocco has better food than Sevilla. All types of fried food, heavily spiced (which Spanish cuisine misses sometimes). All sorts of sauces, buttery, fatty, delicious breads, couscous, simmered veg, all incredible.

The next day we woke up and went over to the famous kings mausoleum-an incredible architecture marvel filled with intricate tiling.

From there we went over to a student center where we got a bit more into politics and the religious and political dynamic in Morocco. The king there is very powerful and, although Moroccans can vote, the king oversees all of the political situation there. Women legally don’t have different rights, but in religious and familial contexts, it’s a bit questionable at times-the expectation is for women to be pious, to be wives, generally (although tons of women go to college because it’s free and there isn’t an expectation for them to get a job). They talked about the taboos behind alcohol and Hijab, the judgement, the communities, the expectation of education. After, we went to some roman ruins before another lunch. Food is eaten off of a communal share plate, which makes for an original experience.

After that, we walked through some roman ruins of an old village. Cats are a type of protected creatures in Islam (but not really pets), so walking around you’ll see tons of them. There was a whole posse of them at the ruins.

That afternoon we walked around a market with a group of Moroccan students who, as far as my knowledge, were about as liberal as the average american student-their parents, however, all were much more conservative. They all had a remarkable energy to work and all of them wanted to get out of Morocco.

After that, we went to the Hamam, the public baths. It’s about the size of a couple hotel rooms, and people come there to bathe. There are three rooms, the first with hot water, where you soap up, and the next two where you progressively rinse down. It’s quite the experience, and was 100% completely authentic.

You could pay someone 50 Dihram ($5) to give you a 10+ minute scrub down with an exfoliating glove. He scrubbed and scrubbed and took layers of skin off. It was a crazy experience, lying on a wet, Moroccan, terrazzo floor, scrubbed down by a sweaty professional scrubber downer. At the end he stretches you out and cracks the ever living heck out of you. Then he dumps a cold bucket of water on you.

Another dinner later, a conversation with Salim, and an early wakeup the next day to drive into the Atlas mountains. We walked into a small town of 300 where we had a lunch of couscous with some people who lived in the village there. The father was half farmer/half truck drive and they had 3 kids running around. When he grew up, he lived in the same village, without access to a road, running water, or electricity. In the last ten years, all of those have come, along with smartphones.

We wrapped up there after a short hail squall, then drove into Chefchaouen, a city where all the houses are painted blue (no one really knows why, but it’s morphed into tourism). We ate a meal, shopped around in the big markets they have, then discussed the events of this trip before going to bed. We took a hike up to an overlook before heading out the next morning (below).

Ultimately, it was an incredible trip. We interacted so deeply with the culture, the food, my skin still feels great from the exfoliation. So many crazy and authentic experiences. I now have a deeper appreciation for the Muslim world, and a desire to understand how the more conservative Muslim countries work. I have an incredible optimism for Morocco, and developing countries like it-there is so much potential there that is finally, due to travel, technology, the internet, is finally getting unlocked.