Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Main gate of Meknes
The columns that you see on either side of the door were stripped from Volubilis.
Volubilis
Ever since I began thinking about a trip to Morocco, one of the places I was most curious to visit was Volubilis, an ancient Roman city lying in ruins about 30 km north of Meknes. Yesterday morning I made the trip at last.
For some inexplicable reason, there is no organized public transportation to Volubilis; the only way to get there is to take a tour, hire a driver for a half day, or pile into a grand taxi with six other people and then walk 4 km from a nearby city, Moulay Idriss. I'm not a big fan of taking organized tours to places like this because they have a tendency to rush people through the site. Plus, at least here in Morocco, they almost always make at least one and sometimes multiple stops at carpet dealers or handicraft stores where you're subjected to hard sells and then have to sit around and wait for other people to negotiate deals for their purchases. Often the shopping lasts longer than the visit to the site. Not fun. Hiring a car for a half day costs about $50 and only includes the transportation, not a guide to the site. A seat in the grand taxi is $1.20. Easy decision. :)
I got an early start because the weather has been punishingly hot here this week. Yesterday it got up to 106 degrees, so I was on my way by 9 am, but it was already in the 90s. The car hire is at the same place as the grand taxi stand, and a couple of men tried to convince me that the grand taxis were not for foreigners, that it was impossible to reach Volubilis from where the cabs let out, blah blah blah. That kind of thing is really annoying, but I was as insistent as they were and quickly found a place in a grand taxi (another situation where being able to speak some Arabic was really helpful!).
As I've mentioned before, the grand taxis are shared among multiple passengers all traveling to the same place. They operate like buses, but instead of running on a schedule, the taxi leaves when it is full. That means that there are two passengers in addition to the driver in the front seat and four people squished together in back. I was squashed in back between a nice elderly lady and an older gentleman who spoke English, and even though it was crowded, it was kind of a nice ride. The windows were open, so it wasn't too hot, the people were chatting about the election coming up, and I was watching the gorgeous scenery. This part of Morocco reminds me of northern California. It's in the foothills of the mountains and there are rolling hills, huge valleys, and miles of olive trees and hayfields. Lovely.
The cab's drop off point was Moulay Idriss, a sacred Islamic city built on the steep face of a mountain. Moulay Idriss was the founder of an important Muslim dynasty in the 700s, and he founded both Fez and the city that bears his name. The city of Moulay Idriss is home to a shrine to the man, and many Muslims make a pilgrimage to the shrine (I read that in Islamic religious practice, it's worth one-fifth of the hajj to Mecca). Non-muslims aren't allowed to visit the shrine, and in fact, until 2005, non-Muslims weren't even allowed to stay overnight in the city. It's a pretty town, with square little houses that look like they're stacked on top of one another because of the incline of the mountain. But since I wasn't allowed to do much there, I didn't feel a need to linger. I offered my driver a few extra dollars to drop me off at Volubilis, saving me the long walk in the hot weather, and he was happy to make the deal.
Volubilis was once the end of the line of the Roman empire--the farthest outpost. The empire stretched west through France and Spain and then south into Morocco and inland only as far as Volubilis. The area was and is some of the most fertile farmland in all of north Africa, which is why Rome wanted to control it. And it also supplied a lot of the game that the Romans needed for food or sacrifices: it used to have elephants, lions, and bears, but they're all extinct now. Because it was so far from Rome and because the native Berbers from the nearby mountains essentially refused to be conquered, Rome only controlled the site for about 200 years before abandoning it.
The site is in tough shape now. It was plundered for some of its marble columns and other ornamentations when Meknes was founded hundreds of years ago, and it's not being well preserved. It's overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, there are mosaic floors unprotected from the elements that are fading fast, and there's no security other than a flimsy wire fence. I've seen my share of ancient ruins, and I was a little surprised that the Moroccan government would be so casual about the place.
But one great aspect of it was that I had it almost all to myself. It's a huge site, with ruins of homes, grand arched city gates, olive oil presses, baths and other buildings. And the entire time I was there, I saw maybe a dozen other people, mostly at a distance. The ruins look out over a majestic valley that would have been worth the trip alone, and I loved walking through the site hearing only the breeze from the valley swaying the wildflowers and the weeds. Oh, and the storks snapping their beaks. Morocco is crammed with storks--they live on all of the tall buildings, including the ruins, and when they are about to eat, they make this loud snapping noise with their beaks--it sounds kind of like hammering. They're pretty birds, but those beaks mean business and I wouldn't want to get too close or upset them.
Speaking of things that mean business, I have never in my life experienced more aggressive biting insects than at Volubilis! The place was absolutely swarming with these angry little black fleas/mosquitoes/bitey things that made this horrible tiny squealing noise like mosquitoes. Every time I paused to take a photo or read my guide, they were all over me and whining in my ears. So gross! They were so bad that I had a scarf wrapped around my head over my hat and I could still hear it. I must have looked hilarious swatting at them (and swearing continually since there was nobody else within earshot). Even as I write this, I feel itchy. Of course, I feel itchy all the time today because I got so many bites. At least this area isn't supposed to be malarial!
Anyway, for all the bugs and the hassle, Volubilis was still a terrific place to see. The ruins and the setting were perfectly matched, and I took tons of pictures, some of which are posted below. After I was finished, I started the 4 km walk back to Moulay Idriss to catch a grand taxi back to Meknes, and the walk was hot but quite beautiful. I took it slowly, stopping for pictures and to rest in the shade from time to time, and was more or less enjoying it. Three or four cars stopped to offer me a ride to the city, but I felt a little funny about accepting a ride from a stranger, even though I'm sure they were all kind people just wanting to offer a lift. But when I was about a half mile from town and about to start climbing the steep hill to the taxi stand, a grand taxi headed to Meknes pulled over, and I was thrilled not to have to haul myself up the hill in 100+ degree sun. Great timing!
Next up later today, Fez--a city I have been anxious to see for years! :)
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Mausoleum of Mohammed V
This man is a ceremonial guard at the mausoleum of Mohammed V in Rabat. This place happens to be one of only a handful of Islamic shrines or mausoleums in Morocco that non-Muslims may visit. The picture below shows the mausoleum itself.
Mausoleum of Mohammed V
As I understand it, the king of Morocco is part of an Islamic dynasty, and his position is not merely political but also religious. The king is the head of Islamic faith as well as the country's political life. But although his mausoleum is a religious site, non-Muslims are allowed to visit it (not the case for most Islamic sites in Morocco).
This is why I'm always lost!
On my way to Volubilis, I snapped this shot of a street in the medina before the stores open. This is the main drag of the Meknes medina, one of the widest and most-traveled streets, and you can see that with the doors shut it's about eight feet wide. During most of the day and late into the night, the stores spill out into the street, with displays and racks of goods, and stalls and carts and chairs, so you have to sidle through it single file on foot. In addition to being narrow, note that there are no street signs, and since it's covered to keep out the sun, you can't use tall structures or the position of the sun as landmarks to help you find your way. Maps of the place are virtually useless, and the only way to find something is to ask or walk around in circles until you stumble upon it. Not the best system, perhaps, but it's one that's worked for them for over a thousand years. ;)
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Rabat Ups and Downs
I was sort of sad to leave Rabat today because there were a few things that I had hoped to check out and didn't have time to see, but I'm thinking of spending a bit more time here on the way back to Casa (I'll probably fly out of Casa when I depart from Morocco). Rabat sort of snuck up on me. When you ask Moroccans for advice about where to go and what to see in their country, when the subject of Rabat comes up, it's usually all they can do to stifle a yawn. Imagine the reaction if a foreigner asked an American about Akron--Rabat probably elicits about the same reaction. When you ask about Rabat in a hopeful tone, sometimes they sneer openly, sometimes they just look at you with pity. Even the Rough Guide calls it "a little bit dull"--and these authors found things to like about Taroudant and Agadir!
Well, taste in cities must be similar to taste in people. Everybody has fans and critics. I liked Rabat, and I would have absolutely loved it if the men had behaved with basic respect towards women. But way too many of them didn't. Interestingly, this was supposed to be among the most comfortable places in Morocco for women, and in fact, the harassment was awful. I swear, there must be no women on staff of any of the guidebooks I've used, because they never seem to accurately gauge the male behavior. In some places, they warn that it's terrible, and I find the people there perfectly polite and hospitable, and then the book predicts an easy time and every third guy is making kissing sounds, saying suggestive things, or following me (believe me, though, they melt away fast when you confront them directly in Arabic. Cowards.)
Sexism notwithstanding, I don't totally understand Rabat's reputation as a boring city: it has a lot going for it. The coast is gorgeous, with one of the best beaches I've seen in Morocco, set alongside cliffs on which the kasbah and medina were built. And the kasbah and medina are terrific for aimless strolling. There are extensive Roman ruins located in the city at a site called Chellah. The souks are fun and less packed and hectic than other cities, the restaurants are a little more varied than elsewhere and still reasonably priced, it's walkable, and there are some really friendly people there.
But the constant barrage of stunted, idiotic comments and behavior really drags down the visit. Interestingly, Rabat was the first Moroccan city where I think the majority of women weren't wearing headscarves--though there were tons of women who were. Those without covering were probably just barely a majority, but in most of the rest of the country, a clear majority cover. But at the same time, taken as a group, and obviously with notable exceptions, the men in Rabat were mouthy, vulgar, and not a little bit repulsive. I hasten to reiterate that this wasn't all of them, not by a long shot. I met some great men in Rabat. But the climate was noticeable and worse than other places I've visited. None of it was threatening, and when confronted they deflate like popped balloons, but it really wore on me.
I kept wondering: why are (some) men so invested in acting like asses here? They really seem to work hard at it, and for what? Does it make them feel powerful to put women down? Are they so deprived of contact with women that they'll do anything to get attention, like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum? Do they use the harassment as a means of "teaching" women what is acceptable behavior? Who teaches them that this is acceptable? The community enforces all kinds of behavior here, so why isn't this stopped? Or is this behavior itself a form of enforcement. . . against women?
I also wonder about the women I see covered from head to toe when it's over 100 degrees outside. I'm curious how many of them are covering out of genuine personal piety based on their own interpretation of the Koran, and how many have simply been so worn down by all of this crappy male behavior that they'd rather suffer the heat and cover up just so that they're a less obvious target? If they are doing it because of family pressure, are the families concerned about piety, are they trying to shield their daughters and wives from disrespectful men, or are the men in the family insisting on it out of self-interest for their own honor?
When it's stifling hot outside, with the sun pounding down on you and the heat sucking all the moisture out of your eyes and your lips like you're in an oven, a woman must have a really, really good reason to be wearing a head covering and a long sleeved djellaba over a shirt and pants. And believe me, they feel it--it's not like you can just get used to it. I was seated next to a lovely fully covered woman on the bus to Essaouira, and the bus was even warm for me, in my t-shirt and capris. She was absolutely suffering, and I rummaged around in my bag until I found some papers for her to use as a fan, for which she expressed fervent gratitude and fanned like she was trying to fly.
If the motive behind this kind of covering is personal piety, I think that is a tremendous and beautiful and completely humbling act of worship performed by amazing women every day. If it's to try to avoid the attention of cretins, it's tragic that other amazing women have to resort to it.
I don't know the answers to any of these questions. I know that I hate the way some men treat me here, but at the same time, experiencing this kind of thing is exactly the point of travel. This makes me understand other people better, and it definitely makes me understand my home differently. It makes me appreciate things that I never noticed before, like taking for granted that my male friends and colleagues regard me as an equal.
That was a lengthy tangent when I really just meant to write a brief note about the last few days in Rabat. But my feelings about the city are inextricably entwined with how I got treated there. I loved so many of the things I saw and did in Rabat, but there was this horrible undercurrent that spoiled my mood again and again. Still the stream of poor behavior would have been even more intolerable in a place that I didn't otherwise like very much. So to write about this conflict is to write about my Rabat, I guess.
By the time I left for the train today, I feel like I had walked most of the city over the course of the past three days, and I could find my way around with ease. Besides going through every inch of the kasbah and most of the medina, I checked out Chellah (the Roman ruins), the Ville Nouveau (the part of the city that outgrew the medina, originally built by the French during the protectorate period), the grounds of the city's grand mosque, and the mausoleum of Mohammed V. I didn't have time to get to the Archeological Museum, which is supposed to be small but among the best in Morocco. Maybe I'll spend the night in Rabat on my way back to Casa for my flight to Italy.
My two favorite parts of the city were the kasbah and Chellah. The kasbah is a walled part of the city, the oldest in-use part of what is now Rabat. The kasbah was founded in the middle of the 1100s AD (followed by the medina around the 1700s and the Ville Nouvelle in the early 1900s), and a massive door in the kasbah wall has been in place since 1195 (I'll post a pic of it). This part of the city is a tiny peninsula jutting out into the sea, towering on a cliff over the water. It's primarily residential now, with some riads, a couple of boutiques for tourists, and a few stands selling groceries. Most of the houses have blue doors and some kind of blue detailing, which makes the streets picturesque. Off the main road, the paths leading to the homes are tight and maze-like, and it's easy to walk for a few minutes without realizing that you're in a dead end, in a passage so tight that you can touch the walls on both sides of you at once.
One of my favorite parts of the evening in the kasbah last night was passing a group of kids who must've been about ten years old. They were kicking around a soccer ball, and one of them overshot. For quite possibly the first time in my life, I kind of caught the ball with my foot and shot it gently back to the kid who was coming for it. It actually looked like I knew what I was doing (I don't. At all. I'm such a faker.) The kids congratulated me in English (!) and we chatted for a bit. I love Moroccan kids--they absolutely blossom before your eyes when take the time to stop and talk with them and really listen. I also try hard to talk with kids in Arabic because it's so much fun when they help me with my pronunciation and stuff. Good times. (And yes, I'll be careful to double-check the words they teach me.) ;)
One last story: earlier today, I also visited Chellah, the deserted ancestor city of the kasbah. Chellah stands outside the current walls of Rabat behind its own set of walls. Chellah was abandoned for the kasbah in 1154, but before that it had been a busy port city for a thousand years. Both Roman and Islamic details were evident: part of a mosque was still standing, with tile fountains that still held color even as they've started to crumble, and nearby there was a Roman arch and a trading post dated from 200 BC. I love the feeling of walking through places like that. Weeds were growing over almost everything, and storks had nested on the merlons of the minaret, but the artisan who made the zellij tile for the fountain is still living on, in a way, a millennium after his death. I'm confident that nothing I do or create will survive that long. There's some perspective for you, right?
Anyway, I have concluded that Rabat is kind of like an exasperating friend. A frienemy, as the 'tween girls say. Lots there to love, but every now and then it's determined to make you suffer.
Have you ever seen a bluer blue?
Rabat's kasbah was a wonderful surprise. I walked through it on a whim because it was close to my riad, and I was rewarded with a peek at one of the most beautiful neighborhoods I've seen anywhere in Morocco. A thousand shades of blue, none of them quite the same.
Rabat's beach
A capital city with a beach that looks like that. Wow. I wish the founders of my own country had been in possession of such foresight. :)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Pre-Election Party in El Jadida
People here seem really stoked about the election coming up later this month, which is intended to offer some constitutional reforms to strengthen democratic processes and institutions. The king of Morocco delivered an important speech recently where he set forth a bunch of ideas to open the government and make it more responsive to popular will. I've read in American press accounts about criticism that the reforms don't go far enough. Naturally, I'm sensitive and sympathetic to that kind of thing; however, I have to say that I've been talking to a lot of people here about how they feel about the reform process, and I haven't heard that point of view brought up once. They all seem genuinely enthused about the king and his proposal. And I don't get the impression that they're just toeing the party line in front of a foreigner. They've spoken with verve and passion--not the tight-lipped politeness of people who are saying something they think they're supposed to say.
One of my friends, an American who has been studying Arabic in Rabat, said that she did see protesters in Rabat who were calling for the reforms to go further, so I know there is some support for that point of view. From my own experience, it seems like the majority of the people are pretty satisfied, though.
As the campaign goes on, at three or four of the cities I've visited, there have been big nighttime parties in public parks to celebrate the election, where hundreds of people have come and brought the kids. Usually, there are banners flying everywhere and live bands playing. In El Jadida, above, there was a small platform to the side of the main stage, and a bunch of little kids seized it and were dancing like it was Solid Gold. So much fun to watch! One of the little boys was a mini-Mick Jagger--as God is my witness, he had the strut down to a T. It's so like Morocco to turn something like an election into so much fun.
Video clip of the call to prayer at sundown, taken in my riad.
I'm not sure whether this is coming up or not. It's not loading on my iPad, but I'll leave it up for a day or two just in case it's available to those using other interfaces.
If you can't see it, it is a video clip of the call to prayer during a windstorm at sunset, shot from my riad. I'll try to get a better recording of it posted soon.
Courtyard of my riad in Rabat
My riad in Rabat, Dar Mayssane, is owned and operated by a young Frenchwoman, Ann-Sophie, whose taste, style, and hospitability are absolutely impeccable. It's so lovely I want to move in. A million little touches make this place feel special: rose petals on my fresh towels and pillows, handmade soap in the sink and shower, homemade preserves with the bread at breakfast, aromatic herbs that make the courtyard smell so good, fresh flowers all over the place, beautiful things to look at wherever your eyes fall. And it is totally reasonable--a fraction of what the big hotels cost, in fact. I just don't understand why anyone would come to Morocco and stay in a cookie cutter international hotel. The riad experience has been one of my favorite parts of Morocco.
(By the way, it goes without saying, but Anne-Sophie didn't ask me to write this, nor does she know I am writing it. I don't receive any type of consideration for things I write in this blog, so when I praise something, please know it's because I'm sincerely enthusiastic about it and just want to spread the word about a place that's doing great stuff--there's no other motive.) ;)
This might be my favorite picture from Morocco so far
I love these old white cars--they're everywhere, and I think they're so photogenic.
Gym promises "musculation." :)
Every now and then, I see a great non-word on a sign or in a menu or something. I've traveled in China, and I think I could have done a whole blog just on non-words there. They're much rarer here, but still fun. "Musculation" probably *ought* to be a word. You know immediately what it means, right? Maybe I'll start a movement to adopt it into the lexicon. :)
Heatwave
I just had a fantastic walk through Rabat's kasbah, which I will describe later tonight, and with luck I will share pics (more trouble with the camera phone). It's the middle of the afternoon and the sun is beating down like crazy outside. Like the locals, I'm learning to adjust my schedule to accommodate a few hours of hiding from the peak afternoon heat, so I'm going to hang out in my riad for a little while and get caught up on a few posts.
Until spending so much time here, I never noticed the extent to which Americans seal themselves away from the elements. In Morocco, by necessity, people learn to adapt to what nature gives them instead. The summers are brutally hot here, so people build homes of thick mud walls that resist the heat surprisingly well. They don't have the option of switching on the air conditioning. When it's hot out, people are hot. They cope. During the day, instead of fighting the sun, people rest--stores and restaurants close and people find shade and fan themselves with paper or magazines or whatever they can find. They dress as sensibly for the heat as modesty will allow, and they drink lots of water and orange juice. And if you can find some good shade and a breeze, it feels great. You don't take it for granted: you notice the breeze and feel grateful for it.
Same thing holds for lighting. Homes and stores and restaurants are designed to let in natural light, and I can't recall seeing anyone use electric lights in a house or restaurant during the day. (If stores are in a dark corner of the souk, sometimes they do). At night, when it gets dark, homes and stores aren't lit like Christmas trees--people turn on the minimum number of lights they need, and at the moment they no longer need the light, they shut it off. They don't create an artificial daytime when it is night, or an artificial winter when it is summer. Interiors aren't magically 72 degrees and brightly lit at all times of day, every day of the year.
I haven't seen a single window screen in Morocco, and all of the places where I've stayed have big windows. They open right to the outside, and they are almost never closed. I've stopped being concerned about flies and mosquitoes in my room--they are a fact of life. It's good when there are no birds in the room. :) Most of the places I've stayed are square homes that open into a tiled center courtyard room which is open to the sky above, and all of the rooms on the ground floor (usually a dining room, a kitchen, and a sitting room) open off the courtyard, open to the air as well. Sometimes the courtyards have trees or a fountain, and it's not unusual to be sitting with your book in the courtyard (because that's where the light is) while a bunch of birds start a turf battle in an orange tree three feet away. But legions of cats patrol the cities, slinking through the homes and stores and restaurants and medina streets to keep the bird and vermin (and bug?) situation under control. It's all part of life and the food chain, there on display.
The whole experience of being in Morocco feels different from being in America because Morocco actually touches you, whereas often America doesn't. It's like the difference between traveling down a road sealed inside a car versus on a bike. You experience things so differently on a bike--you know how an area smells, you can feel whether the air is wet or dry, you hear the sounds. In the car, you miss all of those things. In the summertime, Morocco makes you hot and sweaty and tired and thirsty and mosquito-bitten. When you walk down the street, everybody else is also hot and sweaty and tired and thirsty and mosquito-bitten, and it actually gives you something in common with every person you see, from tiny kids to elderly people. Morocco's the bike; we're the car.
I'm not going to lie, sometimes it would feel really good to slip into an air conditioned restaurant or store, and boy do I like my window screens back home. But for the most part, this traditional system works pretty well. It's making me really aware of how much heat, air conditioning, and lighting I use at home. One of the things I'll take home from this trip is a heightened sensitivity to how little I actually need. I think the time I've spent here will make me want to live less in the bubble.
End of Month One!
Today marks exactly one month from the day I landed in Madrid, and I just wanted to stop and say thanks to everybody who has helped make the trip possible and who has taken the time to keep in touch while I've been gone. This has been one of the best experiences of my whole life. I thought yesterday about what a nutty expedition the past month has been:
Plane to Madrid
Bus to Barcelona
Bus and train to Toledo
Train to Madrid
Plane to Marrakesh
Van to Cascades D'Ouzoud
Van to Ouzazate and the Sahara
Van from Sahara to Marrakesh
Bus to Essaouira
Bus to Agadir
Bus to Taroudant
Grand taxi to Marrakesh
Train to El Jadida
Train to Rabat
But for as much ground as I've been covering, I still feel like I've been able to do it mindfully, really seeing and enjoying each place (or, in the case of Agadir and Taroudant, tolerating each place). ;)
Along the way, I've made friends from all over Morocco, Spain, Belgium, Brazil, Chile, Argentina, Poland, Japan, Spain, England, Australia, New Zealand, and the USA. I've fallen asleep under a blanket of stars in the Sahara Desert, listening to the wind shift the sand dunes. I've stood on thousand year old city walls watching the sun set in the west over the Atlantic. I've admired mosques and cathedrals and souks and vegetable markets. I've been stared at like a zoo animal in some places and welcomed like a long-lost friend in others. So far, this trip has been everything I dreamed of and more.
I owe very special thank you to a few people who have gone way out of their way to provide help and moral support while I've been away. First of all, Paul, thank you for taking care of Muppet and the house while I'm gone. You are the only person I would have considered leaving Muppet with for such a long period, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you're doing to keep her healthy and happy and to keep the house standing while I'm away. Saying thank you doesn't begin to express my gratitude.
Mom and Dad, thanks for the all the moral support! Thanks for not freaking out when I do ridiculous things like fly to Spain on a one-way ticket and get mugged in Barcelona. ;) Our chats on the phone mean the world to me--it would have been too hard to do this trip if we wouldn't be able to talk from time to time.
Jane and Janet and Stan, you guys are terrific. Thanks for staying in touch while I've been gone--you don't know how much your notes and chats mean. I hate missing out on seeing you more this summer, but I'm looking forward to seeing you all again soon.
Thanks to all of my Facebook buddies who have taken the time to stay in touch and make me feel less alone while on another continent. You are great.
And thanks, everybody who has read the blog. It's fun to hear that I've been able to provide a virtual vacation for so many friends and family--I'm so glad! :) And if you've got questions about anything, please don't hesitate to ask.
Stick around: I've got big plans for Month Two and beyond! I'll be hanging around in Morocco for about two more weeks, I think, visiting Meknes, Fez, Chefchaoen, and the Mediterranean coast. Then, I expect to head to Italy for a few weeks. Afterwards, perhaps Berlin, a short visit to Greece, and some time in the Balkans, depending on time and budget. Maybe a little more time in Turkey, too. And my co-conspirator Janet will be joining me for the third week of August, location to be determined.
On to Month Two! :)
Friday, June 24, 2011
Casablanca
I haven't written a lot recently, but I'm glad to report that I've got my traveling mojo back!!! :) The last few days have been the kind of time that make all the hassle and expense and stress of travel worthwhile. After a lackluster stretch through Agadir and Taroudent that felt like weeks, when I arrived in Casablanca and moved on to El Jadida, I finally got back into the swing of seeing and doing interesting things and meeting cool people, which are the goals of this whole endeavor.
I arrived in Casablanca the other night too late to do much of anything, so I got an early start the following morning. Even though Casablanca is Morocco's most important commercial center and a bustling port, there is surprisingly little there of interest to tourists. Casa has no museums (although a few kilometers outside the city is the only Jewish museum in the Arab world), no ancient ruins, no unique medina. But it does have a world-class mosque, and its mosque is one of only a tiny handful in Morocco that are open to non-Muslims. I figured that I'd see the mosque in the morning, have a nice lunch, and then walk around the city to enjoy the art deco architecture in the afternoon. And since there's so little else to see and do, I'd catch an early evening train south to a city called El Jadida.
So first thing in the morning, after packing up my stuff, I walked around the port area of Casa and then took a cab to Mosque Hassan II. It is an impressive place of worship. In the past couple of years, I've visited Egypt and Turkey, where most mosques are open to the public except during designated prayer times. That's not the case in Morocco, which is totally disappointing because I really like Islamic and Moorish architecture. And even apart from the architectural interest, it's always a nice insight into another faith when you can spend time in one of its houses of worship.
The Mosque Hassan II is fairly new, built from 1980 to 1993. As you may be able to tell from some of the pictures that I posted, it's an elaborately decorated, enormous building, and in order to complete it in such a short time, construction proceeded day and night seven days a week for more than a decade. Its 600 foot minaret dominates the Casablanca skyline as the tallest structure in the city and the tallest minaret in the world. A laser beam on top of the minaret shines towards Mecca. And it's not just tall: the interior of the mosque can hold 25,000 people for prayers, and the courtyard outside holds 80,000 more. According to our guide, the mosque is packed inside and out every day during the Islamic month of Ramadan each year. Wow.
When I approached the mosque that morning, a light wisp of fog still hung in the air near the ocean, obscuring the middle of the minaret, making its peak appear to grow out of a cloud. Pretty cool--you can make it out in a few of the pictures I posted, I think. I took a walk through the courtyard so that I could see as much of the exterior of the building as possible. I think my favorite elements of the mosque were the horseshoe-shaped titanium covered doors, which stand 20 feet tall and weigh ten tons each, and the tiles set in geometric patterns in the ablution fountains, where people wash before they pray.
I was able to take a guided tour of the mosque, and the interior was just as striking. Every surface that could possibly have been embellished was covered in more geometric patterns or other lovely architectural details. It was a treat for the eyes. The most amazing aspect of the building, though, is its retractable roof. It's like seeing St. Peter's open up to the sky. The roof is only opened a few times a year, so as to prevent the saltwater in the air from damaging the building, but it happened to be open when we visited. Cool!
After the mosque, I took a walk through the city to see its famous art deco architecture and to grab lunch and tea at Rick's Cafe (I know it's touristy, but I was in Casablanca, and it just seemed like the right thing to do). ;)
After my walk, I hopped the early evening train for El Jadida, and I'll describe that in a separate entry.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Rick's Cafe, Casablanca
I couldn't resist dining here, even though it was kind of spendy. I sat beside the grand piano, but Sam failed to make an appearance. Too bad. They did have piano jazz playing on the stereo, though, an endless loop of standards...and then I heard Santa Claus Is Coming to Town! I was giggling a little, but none of the staff or other diners seemed to notice--which makes sense because most of them were probably Muslim and not familiar with Christmas carols.
Taroudant skyline.
This is the city that Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide described as "elegant." I am still puzzled.
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