Confused about why we're in Morocco and not Turkey? Start reading here and here.
So, it should have been easy to get to the riad. The problem was, whether due to religious beliefs, pure sexism, or something else altogether, the taxi driver seemed to refuse to interact with me. No matter whether I spoke English, French, or Arabic, he would never respond to a word that I said, although he would speak to A fairly freely (for the record, that's never happened before.) That wouldn't have been a major problem except that the directions were in French and the driver didn't seem to speak much English. A tried the best he could to repeat what I said, but enough was lost in translation that the driver seemed to simply grasp onto the one phrase he understood "Qasbah des Oudayas." That was the general area we were supposed to go, but there were more directions from there that he seemed either to not understand or to ignore. He did, however, stop the car several times to ask strangers for directions - unfortunately, everyone told him something different.
So, it should have been easy to get to the riad. The problem was, whether due to religious beliefs, pure sexism, or something else altogether, the taxi driver seemed to refuse to interact with me. No matter whether I spoke English, French, or Arabic, he would never respond to a word that I said, although he would speak to A fairly freely (for the record, that's never happened before.) That wouldn't have been a major problem except that the directions were in French and the driver didn't seem to speak much English. A tried the best he could to repeat what I said, but enough was lost in translation that the driver seemed to simply grasp onto the one phrase he understood "Qasbah des Oudayas." That was the general area we were supposed to go, but there were more directions from there that he seemed either to not understand or to ignore. He did, however, stop the car several times to ask strangers for directions - unfortunately, everyone told him something different.
Just as I was getting ready to have him let us out so we could find a new taxi driver who knew the area and would actually acknowledge my existence, our driver stopped his car, helped us pull out our luggage, asked A for the address to our riad, and started leading us (carrying one of my bags) into the medina. That late at night (it was, by now, perhaps 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning), especially with the air so heavy with fog, the medina was an incredibly eerie place. It was almost deserted except for stray cats and the occasional group of 20-somethings, mostly men, loitering in doorways. Whispering for A to make sure to stay close, I started following the taxi driver (or, really, my suitcase.) Every so often, he would stop and ask someone for directions. Everyone seemed very friendly and eager to help (we found out later that there are a number of riads in the area and visitors are always getting lost, so there's a sort of understanding between riad ownders that they help each other help their guests out) but everyone seemed to have a different idea of where we should go. Eventually, the taxi driver seemed to have had enough, and passed us over to two young men who, fortunately, were willing to converse with both A and me.
Talking about it later, A and I agree that we were both incredibly grateful that this wasn't our first time in Morocco. It's never a fun thing to be passed back and forth between strange men who are leading you and all your present possessions down strange dark alleys in a foreign country the middle of the night...but we at least knew that, in Morocco, it's extremely common for people to step up and guide people like that. Scams and theft certainly happen, but they're often much rarer than in the U.S. and we've developed a pretty good radar for them. Plus, I was following enough of their Arabic conversations (and they didn't know I spoke Arabic) to be confident that they weren't planning anything sinister unless they were speaking in an extremely clever code.
Anyway, they took us almost all the way to our riad, until we were met by the man who runs it, who they had called to come and help us. He led us the rest of the way there and checked us into our room without any more incident. So that was nice. He then asked us what time we wanted him to make us breakfast. "9:00? 8:30? 8:00?" Hearing the times getting earlier and earlier, I quickly assured him that 9:00 would be wonderful.
The room itself is very small but full of ornate Moroccan flairs that A and I had both missed far more than we'd realized. The mattress is excellent, and despite getting up early for breakfast, I still slept longer (not to mention more deeply) than I have in nearly a week.
The next morning, we woke up and went upstairs for breakfast, only to realize that somehow we had adjusted our clocks incorrectly, and woken up at 7:30 instead of 8:30. Oops. Fortunately, the man was very sweet about it and quickly whipped us up one of the Moroccan breakfasts that we had both missed so much: mint tea, fresh-squeezed orange juice, fresh bread, and jam.
Feeling energized by the copious amounts of sugar we'd just had, and eager to see Rabat in the daylight, A and I then set out to do some exploring. I don't think either us had realized until that point just how much we had missed Morocco. Everything from our favorite soft drink, to the terrifying way you have to cross the street, to the beautiful djellabas that men and women wear, to the bookstores on nearly every block and the patisseries on every corner, just made us feel like we'd finally come home. It was an amazing feeling.
Anyway, they took us almost all the way to our riad, until we were met by the man who runs it, who they had called to come and help us. He led us the rest of the way there and checked us into our room without any more incident. So that was nice. He then asked us what time we wanted him to make us breakfast. "9:00? 8:30? 8:00?" Hearing the times getting earlier and earlier, I quickly assured him that 9:00 would be wonderful.
The room itself is very small but full of ornate Moroccan flairs that A and I had both missed far more than we'd realized. The mattress is excellent, and despite getting up early for breakfast, I still slept longer (not to mention more deeply) than I have in nearly a week.
The next morning, we woke up and went upstairs for breakfast, only to realize that somehow we had adjusted our clocks incorrectly, and woken up at 7:30 instead of 8:30. Oops. Fortunately, the man was very sweet about it and quickly whipped us up one of the Moroccan breakfasts that we had both missed so much: mint tea, fresh-squeezed orange juice, fresh bread, and jam.
Feeling energized by the copious amounts of sugar we'd just had, and eager to see Rabat in the daylight, A and I then set out to do some exploring. I don't think either us had realized until that point just how much we had missed Morocco. Everything from our favorite soft drink, to the terrifying way you have to cross the street, to the beautiful djellabas that men and women wear, to the bookstores on nearly every block and the patisseries on every corner, just made us feel like we'd finally come home. It was an amazing feeling.
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| St. Pierre Cathedral |
We were able to find two churches within very easy walking distance of our riad (maybe 10 minutes each, all on flat ground. Yay!!) Both of them have daily mass in the evenings. One of them is a medium-sized church on a busy street that is just across from the "Lalla Meriem Creche pour les Enfants Prives des Familles," or the "Mary Home for Children without Families" which we assume that the church operates. I am VERY excited about this, because I am itching for a place to volunteer and I'm hoping that that might be the perfect place to do it. I'd absolutely love to do something with kids, whether it's playing, changing diapers, or teaching French or English. The chance to do it in conjunction with a local church would be even better. The second church was an absolutely breathtaking cathedral with stained-glass windows, an enormous (still used) pipe organ in the back, and mosaic images depicting each of the stations of the cross along the side walls. This church seems to be heavily involved in community charity work, including a prison ministry and an outreach program for immigrants, so I should absolutely be able to find somewhere where I can get involved and be useful. I can't wait!
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| The bookstore: if you recognize why its name is awesome, you get a cookie! |
After visiting the church, A and I went to a bookstore that we absolutely fell in love with. It's packed with fantastic literature, including an enormous wall of Francophone Moroccan authors that I've been dying to check out since last summer. It also has a history section with several books that are exactly in A's main field of research.
Next, we headed to a nearby restaurant where we settled in to have our second real, live, Moroccan meal. For about $6, we each ate our fill of fresh bread, delicious meat and French fries all soaking in the meat's juice, water, and Hawa'i (our favorite Moroccan soda - and yes, I spelled it right.)
So, all in all, despite how difficult, stressful, exhausting, and expensive it was to get here, I think our overwhelming feeling is that it's good to be back.
So, all in all, despite how difficult, stressful, exhausting, and expensive it was to get here, I think our overwhelming feeling is that it's good to be back.
Good night.
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