A Hobbit's Tale

For full effect listen to ---> track 2 <--- of the Fellowship of the Ring film score while you read. 

On a cloudy Sunday afternoon, a white busvan brimming with 12 American students dragged up a dirt rode into the northern Moroccan village of Beni Koula. I was among those students, and what we were about to experience is perhaps the closest to the life of a hobbit as we will ever achieve (minus the ale).

In each of our respective host homes we were awaited with steaming dishes of wholesome food surrounded by still warm from the oven chunks of ever-present bread. Mornings and the daily tea times consisted of bread with peach jam and dishes of straight from the branch olive oil (said by the villagers to give you super human abilities) - all washed down by the best tea I've had in Morocco - a perfect balance of sweet and mint.

After Rob, my American class/roommate, and I had stuffed ourselves plump with dinner from our host family we would head over to our host cousins, home to two more American students and eat dinner with them. After the main dish was consumed a basket larger than a cat was brought forth overflowing with fresh picked apples, bananas, oranges and my favorite - pomegranates.

A light meal. 

Now that we were all as stuffed as the pillows we were sitting on it was time for music and dancing. A conglomeration of traditional Moroccan music and American pop provided a canvas for a plethora of dance moves. This became a nightly occurrence.

Eventually, when we were too tired to go on, myself, Rob and host brother Mohammed would lumber as bear who had eating too many berries back across the starlit courtyard and burrow into our blankets.

The mornings came early, as they tend to do. After (attempting) to milk the cow with my mother Nora and eating a quick breakfast we hustled down the road with the village kids to the local school to teach English, plant olive trees, and for those bestowed with an artistic eye, paint murals. Enthusiasm was unbound.

Action shot! Look at all that enthusiasm! So enthusiastic they're running!

Afternoons were spent roaming the village surroundings, eating roots of bushes, climbing trees just big enough not to classify as bushes, picking prickly pears, cracking open cool rocks and poking sticks in scorpion holes. The daily roaming was brought to a casual halt by those dazzling sunsets that make you want to smoke a pipe in a tree and write a poem.

Pricking of the prickly pear.

It was a sad departure on Friday morning, but as soon as we had wifi we eagerly blasted back onto the grid sponging up what remnants of the past weeks news we could gather.

Main takeaways?
1. The presence of clocks is directly related to the speed of the passage of time.
2. Quit touching the cactus.
3. Never be afraid to stuff yourself silly, then do it again and dance.

Adventure in southland

Last week we deviated from the standard monotony and loaded onto a van headed south. It was a week of destinations graciously interrupted by lunch every so often.

These, however, we no ordinary destinations.

Chapter 1: Meknes, Center of the Universe


We were dampened by a welcome drizzle as we drove through the crowded streets of Morocco's former capital city of Meknes. A dapper tour guide met us with a smile and more answers than questions asked. We enjoyed a mere slice of the 25 miles of wall surrounding the old city including a gate tiled in green, the official color of Meknes and Islam. All the royal cities have their own color to indicate religious locations or public spaces. All the houses, however, even the homes of the wealthy, look the same from the outside out of respect for the poor and to ward "the evil eye."

Fun facts? So many, so fun. Meknes, for example, is home to the oldest Jewish community in North. Africa including a Talmudic school. There are currently less than 100 Jews in Meknes.

Next stop - the half-intact ancient granaries that fed the 12,000 horses of Moulay Ismail at the turn of the 17th century. Half-intact because an earthquake in 1755 collapsed much of the roof. It's called the Lisbon quake because people are more likely to hear about Lisbon than Meknes.
As a special treat we toured the only Mosque in Morocco open to non-Muslims. Not because of any religious prohibitions, but because when the French occupied Morocco they wanted to prevent any Frenchies from being converted to Islam. The rule persists.

Chapter 2: Romans at Volubilis


What's the next best thing to seeing a fully intact Roman military outpost turned cultural center? Seeing the ruins of one obviously.

The only thing that draws out my inner 5-year-old more than Roman ruins are dinosaurs. Rome occupied this region for 400 years and left all the classics behind: pillars, triumphant arch saunas,

well-kept mosaic depictions of demi-gods, brothel, a temple to Jupiter with an alter directly adjacent to a 4th century church with an immersion pit and of course, a vomitorium. Discovered in 1920 by the French, this ruinous city is the best kind of reminder of the reach of the Roman Empire.


Chapter 3: Fez

We rolled into Fez mid evening. A couple of us enjoyed a walk around town and capped off the night with dinner and writing on the balcony. Balconies are one of my favorite things closely following escalators and hammocks.

The next day we were up early to visit a fort overlooking Fez's old medina, dwarfing the medina in Rabat we've learned to call home. Over 960,000 allies twist and wind through the city, some so narrow the edges of my hat would scrape the sides as I passed through. Rumor has it if you take a wrong turn or get left behind it is impossible to find your way out. We took a guide. He showed us cool stuff like the oldest university in the world, founded by a woman. Renowned people like the scholar Maimonides studied there.

We visited the ancient tannery where I parted with a wad of cash but walked out with a very nice leather jacket - a move I have yet to regret. After visiting a cool art place and appreciating the art and stuff we boarded the busvan and trekked to the city of Azrou.

Chapter 4: Azrou 

The rain picked up as we pulled into Azrou, a city tucked in the foothills of the Middle Atlas mountains that I fondly refer to as Moroccan Twin Peaks. The air was filled with the scent of decomposing nature as a slight chill descended on the town making my new jacket unexpectedly necessary. This is a town where the bar has two kinds of beer, both worth the equivalent of two USD. The people are amiable and more than willing to let me practice Arabic, even though my vocabulary is exhausted within the first five minutes of conversation. It was a late night in the soggy town but for a reason I can't quite place it holds a warm memory - perhaps the fall-like climate just reminds me of home.

The next morning was bright and I was less than chipper. Not to worry, I perked up as we took a quick stop in the biggest ceder forest in the Mediterranean. Ceders are my favorite tree, closely followed by pines and olive trees. Oh yes, there was a monkey too, the endangered Barbary Macaque, eating rifa offered by a group of nearby forest-goers. He didn't enjoy it long before two dogs teamed up and lunged at him - the rifa was the real target.

Chapter 5: Camelot

Just kidding, we didn't go to Camelot, but we did ride camels... a lot. HA.

It was a long ride to Merzouga, the city on the edge of the Sahara. We passed small sand dunes being fruitlessly held back by small fences in an attempt to prevent the ever encroaching threat of desertification. Flooding from a couple days of rain with no place to flow also slowed us down. After a brief lunch of sand-bread we convoyed up in three land rovers for a journey to lands unreachable by a mere busvan.

After a short stint of civilized driving our drivers went off-road in a competitive bout of the closest thing to pod racing I've ever experienced. After a quick stop at an NGO working to increase literacy rates in the region (which are atrociously low unfortunately), we went from land rovers to camelback. I named my camel Nudeba meaning scar for the scars of his neck. He was probably the runt of the herd but he was a worthy stead. We rode across sand dunes comparable only with those of the desert planet of Tataouine until we reached some particularly noteworthy dunes. We parked the camels at the bottom and scrawled to the top in preparation for the setting of the Sahara sun. But first a few of us rolled down the dune and tripped our way up again. It was everything I expected and more. Sand is course and gritty, and it does get everywhere, but the silence and beauty of the desert is like nothing else. The pinnacle of the trip.

The rest of the night was a conglomeration of dinner (yus), star gazing (supernovas x3), listening/dancing/playing along briefly with a traditional gnoua band (highly spiritual music) and swimming in the open pool underneath the stars surrounded by sand. The last thing I wanted to do was sleep, but alas I am only human.

Chapter 5: Dar Taliba (House of the Students [f])

We were all sad to leave the sand. But adventure does not wait so high-ho off again. Retraced our tracks with the land rovers, back to the beloved/despised busvan and off on a long long drive to Wyzazet. Nice views and a stop at desert oases were nice distractions. In Wyzazet we stayed at a Dar Taliba, a girls dormitory for young women who leave their homes in the really rural areas to get an education - quite a bold en devour. We had dinner with them and learned about their lives and struggles and shared what stories we could over the ever present language barrier. The best way to describe what happened next is shenanigans. Song and dance were accompanied by marriage offers and apparently impromptu wedding ceremonies for many of the guys in our group. There may be some goats owed. We got out of there in the morning and passed sites many of you would recognize from films such as Kingdom of Heaven, Gladiator, etc. A long long long drive down the road was the final destination.

Chapter 6: Marakesh

Honestly I don't have a lot to say about this city. We did not get along. It's a money-grubbing tourist trap with no way out except for whatever cash you have on hand. We saw some cool stuff I guess and I got stung by a bee.

I was so tired on the busvan ride home the next day that for the first time I actually slept on the bus. At home I was awaited with a meal and my energetic younger host-brothers. As much as I love the road it was nice to be able to feel at home. Been back in Rabat for a couple days now, and I'm already looking forwards to the next excursion.

I do apologize for the length and hold no hard feelings if you've skipped to the end. Also, photos will be added soon, I lost my card reader in the desert. UPDATE: As I'm sure you've noticed, photos have been added.  Okay I have things to do now, so byyyye.