The day started early, when I woke up at 6am to head over to our program's bus by 7:30. I had told my family the night before that I was leaving early and would not need breakfast. And yet, just as I was going to bed, my host-aunt (for clarification, there are four of them) brought me a huge slice of cake and a carton of milk. "I'm leaving these for you in the fridge, fahamty?" Melted my heart, wallahy.
So the next morning I ate the cake and ran out the door, walking across the city to the hotel. No one in Morocco is awake at 6:30am, that's crazy talk. To my surprise, when I arrived at the hotel, I found the entrance blocked by a huge cloud of what appeared to be thick, blue smoke. It barely moved in the morning air, almost like floating cotton candy. "What the hell?" I thought. "Is it exhaust from the bus? Tear gas?" Not seeing anyone around, I decided to make a break for it, holding my breath and running through a gap in the cloud.
Inside the hotel, the students were gathering to wait for the bus. A friend came up to me and said, "I want to get a snack before we go but the hotel staff said I couldn't because they're spraying insecticide."
Crap. Hello cancer.
We loaded onto two buses and drove off towards Chefchaouen. The name apparently means "the city between two horns" because it is located between two mountains. It is located in the north of the country, and so its history is heavily influenced by Spanish culture. The history is actually really interesting, so if you want a primer, check it out here: Wikipedia - Chefchaouen. The town is known for its distinctive blue color. Many of the houses, streets and alleyways are painted various shades of blue. It's really beautiful (give me a break about the camera, jeez).
Sadly we only spent a few hours in the city because it was a day trip, but we took the opportunity to explore the small mountain town. The old city is much like any other besides the blue color scheme, but other nice features are the little aqueducts that run through the city carrying cold river water from a mountain spring. Children play in the water and store owners keep sodas in it to keep them cold. I, James* (remember him?) and Jasmine* split from the group and decided to follow a trail that led into the mountain above the town. We followed the trail out, past a woman herding goats who eyed us suspiciously and up to a mosque that overlooked the town. It was a gorgeous view, though the mosque was sadly closed. After taking some pictures, we walked even farther up the mountain, past a couple of guys who were sitting under a tree and possibly smoking hashish and up until we found another tree, where we saw a bunch of little heads pop up under the shadows of its branches.
"Puppies!" yelled Jasmine*.
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," growled the mama dog as she emerged from the shadows and stalked towards us.
Crap. Hello rabies.
James* grabbed a rock and we backed away slowly (no, just kidding, we flat out ran) back to the woman with the goats, who was still not amused with our antics. Back in the town, we made our way to a pizzeria where Jasmine* and James* ordered fries and ate them cautiously, complaining that the cook had put the fries on their plates with their hands after handling raw meat.
I slept most of the way back, though the seats in the bus were so uncomfortable that my back was still sore this morning.
Today was less eventful. I woke up blissfully late and went to the old city market with my host aunts (all four of them) where I followed them around and learned how terrible I am at bargaining in comparison with seasoned Moroccans. Those ladies went to four different hanawat (shops) in search of a new grill top before they settled on one they liked. They kindly offered to go with me to buy a gift for my family, and helped me argue with the store owner to get a reasonable price (He was a tough cookie. I think I still overpaid.).
After that I said "see you later" to my family and walked to the language center, getting lost in the old city in the process and navigating its more seedy corners (I certainly won't miss that smell of garbage roasting under the sun) until I found the center. A note for travelers to Morocco: in the old city, the direct route is not necessarily the best route. But honestly, getting lost in the old city is one of the pleasures of Morocco. You find something new and wonderful every time.
Tomorrow I have the most important exam of the summer, so wish me luck out there.
No comments:
Post a Comment