A Big Shout Out to the Adwal Cooperative Representing Ahermoumou

Adwal Coop @ Fes Expo

Last July a couple of amazing ladies from the Adwal Cooperative traveled from Ahermoumou, Morocco, (a.k.a Ribat l-Kheir) to Santa Fe, New Mexico, to participate in the 2012 Santa Fe International Folk Art Market (SFIFAM).  Because I was Spain at the time, I was unable to attend the market, to greet both Fatima and Hind, or to buy any of their products, but I sent a lot of baraka (blessings/luck) their way.  Given SFIFAM's success in raising awareness about their mission, I am confident the cooperative did well in terms of sales and I am certain that both ladies learned a great deal from the business training workshops that the market provides.

Amina Yabis @ Fes Expo

Three years ago I remember helping Mrs. Amina Yabis, the Cherry Buttons Cooperative's president, apply for one of the coveted spots for the 2010 market.  I was a bit nervous translating and writing it out because I knew that a lot was at stake.  A trip to the market would mean that the cooperative would be able to sell their product at a venue that would value their hard work and masterful artistry.  Higher profits would translate to much-needed capital, which is tough to come by in Morocco, and that capital would most likely turn into further investments into the cooperative.  In the case of the Cherry Buttons Coop, that was exactly the case.  Thanks to SFIFAM's ability to bring buyers in direct contact with the coop, the profits from the sale of their great products led to the purchase of more equipment and raw materials and to the construction of their own workshop.

As you can imagine, I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the coop was admitted, and I rejoiced with them when they were finally able to leave the cramped confines of their old leased-out workshop for their new and more spacious home.  SFIFAM's impact can be truly life-changing for the artisans and the community that supports them.  You can read more stories about the SFIFAM impact on their website.    

Getting back to Fatima, Hind, and the Adwal Cooperative, I met both ladies back when I started my Peace Corps tour in 2008 and visited the cooperative on occasion.  Ahermoumou, as the locals call it, was about an hour ride on a small transit van going straight east from Sefrou.  The town itself is pretty ordinary with your typical ville-nouvelle box-like apartment buildings with cafes, bakeries, and hanuts, but the scenery surrounding the small town is absolutely breathtaking.  The town sits on the edge of a plateau where to the north you can see all sorts of farms and sheep grazing on a flat plain extending as far as the eye could see and to the south you drop into a huge valley  lined with rows upon rows of olive trees and farms extending to the edge of a towering Middle Atlas mountain ridge.

Ahermoumou Zlul Valley before the winter rains

Ahermoumou Zlul Valley after the rains

Every time I visited I'd walk over to visit the coop whose building was resting right on the edge of the plateau.  After visiting the coop, I'd spend several minutes staring out into that huge valley trying to capture everything.  I could talk about the valley forever, but this entry is about the Adwal Coop who I'm sure draws inspiration from the scenery that surrounds them, the history of the Amazigh tradition, and the people that make up the community.

Fatima, Hind, and the rest of the cooperative were extremely eager and hungry for opportunities.  Luckily, they got an exceptional volunteer named Lynn Dines, who did everything she could to get the word out about the fabulous handmade textile products they were making and to improve the quality of their products.  Even after Peace Corps service, Lynn continued to collaborate with the coop.

Fatima, Lynn, and me @ 2011 Smithsonian Folklike Festival

Last summer, Fatima took a trip to the U.S. to participate in the 2011 Smithsonian Folklife Festival.  Fatima was part of a group of different artisans from different countries where the Peace Corps has a variety of development projects.  I was fortunate to run into her and Lynn during their visit to DC, and I even got to eat, backstage, some of the homemade couscous Fatima had made as part of her cooking demonstration--that's right, in some circles I get VIP treatment.

So upon hearing that the Adwal Coop would be headed to SFIFAM, I was extremely happy to hear the news.  My hope is that with the gains and contacts they've made that they'll be able to continue to expand their business and in turn help more women acquire a trade that will hopefully help them generate more income for themselves and for the home.

Not only will the town benefit economically, but the sale of their products promotes the preservation of their rich cultural Amazigh heritage.  Recognition and exposure are what a lot of the artisans need.  I am happy that the Adwal Coop was able to get some of that through SFIFAM and through Lynn's efforts.  I applaud all of them for their great work.  Keep it up and I'll continue to send more baraka all yall's ways!!!

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Just recently I saw a post on SCORE OC about Fatima and Hind's visit to that great small business resource center.  Here's a link to that story if you'd like to learn more about the coop and their post-market travels: http://scoreoc.org/2012/08/03/weaving-success/

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----This is a side note deviating from the shout out, but I do have to mention another memory that I have of the town.  Ahermoumou has perhaps one of the biggest souqs (open air produce and flee market) in the region.  People come from the valley, down from the mountains, and the nearby plains to buy and sell all sorts of goods.  Everyone is yelling prices, sheep and goats are bleating, roosters are crowing, chabbi music is blaring, and produce trucks are honking at all times trying to clear a path from the mass of people congregated there.  It's hectic to say the least.

The souq itself is pretty impressive, but out of all the commotion, one character stood out.  This guy had a piece of plywood sitting on some cinder blocks with a huge pile of peanuts spread out over his makeshift table.  What was peculiar was that along with the makeshift table he also had tied a loudspeaker to the top of a wooden pole and had extended the microphone cable to a makeshift headset that he would then use to announce that he had the best peanuts around.

He would broadcast the prices constantly like an auctioneer, every time he made a sale even if it was just a couple of dirham he would announce it, he'd have conversations with his customers on the speaker as well, he would haggle passersby and make wise-cracks publicly, and this went on from early morning until noon nonstop.  It was comical to hear the darija word for peanuts repeatedly, kau-kau.  He'd be yelling out prices in ryals too: rb3in(40) ryal kau kau, miyat (100) ryal kau kau, kau kau ashreen (20), etc.  Basically, every phrase would either start or end with kau kau.  The dude was a character.  If I happen to visit Ahermoumou again, I will try to see if the peanut vendor is there just so I can be part of his routine once again.

Presenting Moroccan Bastilla

When I travel, it's not always about climbing the highest mountain or taking a photo by the iconic landmarks.  For me, traveling is about indulging every single one of my five senses in the culture, the environment, and most importantly, the food.  To me, the food is a reflection of a culture's creativity, resourcefulness, history, and tradition.  Great recipes sometimes develop by accident, but sometimes they're created as a result of a fortuitous meeting between different peoples with different traditions.  Sometimes out of the clash something absolutely magical emerges.  While the kings, revolutionaries, military generals, and other leaders argue about who gets what territory, the townsfolk are chowing down on a new hybrid concoction of ingredients that restores sanity in the moment of strife.  I truly believe food is that powerful.

Now, just recently, I had the  fortune of eating an absolutely marvelous Moroccan dish called bastilla.  Before I was to set foot in Morocco, I had written down a list of must-eat Moroccan dishes and bastilla was in my top 5--yes, I had well over 10 things that I had to devour before leaving.  I arrived in Meknes after a short stay in Chefchaouen and on December 31st before the end of 2011, I saw, met, and most definitely enjoyed a moment of transcendence as I slowly crunched and gave every bite of the long-awaited bastilla the 40 thorough chews that it deserved.  It's a perfect combination of sweet and salty, moist and well-seasoned chicken with sweet and crunchy almonds, with other complementary spices giving it even more flavor, and finally wrapped in a thin crispy exterior.

Moroccan Bastilla

Another foodie Christine Benlafquih in About.com, goes on to describe it as such: "A light, crispy warqa pastry shell conceals savory saffron chicken, spicy omelet stuffing, and crunchy topping of fried almonds sweetened and flavored with orange flower water. A garnish of powdered sugar and cinnamon adds to the fabulous blend of flavors."  You may ask what the heck is warqa? CliffordAWright.com explains:

The pie is surrounded by a very thin pastry leaf called warqa (which means "leaf"[also paper]), the top of which is sprinkled with powdered sugar and a lattice-work of ground cinnamon. Warqa pastry begins as a spongy dough that is tapped or slapped against a hot convex sheet of pounded metal, a kind of pan called a tubsil set over a hot charcoal brazier, in a series of overlapping concentric circles to form a large film of pastry. This collection of leaves, now forming a whole thin sheet, is carefully but quickly peeled off the metal and set side.

So how did this amazing dish come about?  According to CliffordAWright, the etymology of the dish's name may have several different origins.  When I first heard bastilla on a trip in Morocco's shamal (north), I thought it was referring to the Spanish word pasteles or pastries.  It could very well be that the dish, like many words that are part of the Spanish language and Moroccan Arabic dialect, is a product of a blend of several cultures, which co-existed together sharing their culinary know-how.   There's also a possibility that a similar sounding word was in use in Berber dialects for their chicken with saffron combos.

The history books tell us that the dish or some derivative of it was eaten by both the rulers of the Berber dynasties and even Spain's King Phillip II.   The dish somehow disappeared from the Spanish diet perhaps due to the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from the Iberian Peninsula, but the Hispano-Jew and Hispano-Muslims who crossed over the strait or went further into the Mediterranean took the recipes with them and adapted the dish to the available ingredients in their new homes.  Since historically it was a dish for royalty, even in contemporary Morocco the dish has kept its luster as it is generally served only during special occasions.  The dish emerged in some shape or form in other parts of the Mediterranean even as far as Turkey as noted by another culinary anthropologist Claudia Roden who munched on pasteles made by some Turkish Jews.

I like to think that as empires, dynasties, and nations quarreled about the politics, taxes, and territorial boundaries, Berber Muslims, Jews, and Christians were probably enjoying a nice plate of bastilla.   CliffordAWright goes on to say, "Contemporary Moroccan cuisine is essentially an Arab and Hispano-Muslim cuisine set upon the foundation of an older and simpler Berber sustenance diet, with outside influences from sub-Saharan West Africa and colonial-era France." Seems like the best tasting things in life come about when people meet and share recipes.

As such, if you're reading this blog, it's just as if we had stumbled upon one another.  I've been fortunate to have had Moroccan bastilla in the region where it was born, but there's no reason, wherever you may be, why you can't munch on this delicious cultural mélange and its wholesome goodness.  Good luck, safe travels, and enjoy!

Moroccan Holiday 2011 in the Shamal: Chefchaouen, Meknes, and Sefrou

With teaching responsibilities done for the 2011 trimester, I took advantage of my two-week break to head down to the Land of the Far West, Morocco.  Because my incoming and outgoing flights were both out of Tangiers, I chilled out in Morocco's shamal (north) for the entire trip.  As I've shared before in previous blogs (Shamal Series), Northern Morocco certainly does not fit into the stereotypical desert oasis image of Morocco with its rolling hills of sprouting winter wheat and grass, lush coastal plains, snow-crowned mountain peaks, and temperatures that chill you to the bone.  The shamal offers plenty of beautiful scenery along with the always delicious Moroccan cuisine and famous hospitality.

On this latest trip, I got to spend more time in Chefchaouen hiking the mountain horns on which the city rests, got to sightsee around Meknes visiting the mausoleums, ancient prisons, granaries, plazas, and their majestic and enormous gates to its medieval city.  I also got to reminisce with friends in my old hometown of Sefrou sipping some nus-nus (half expresso & half milk) coffee or the famous sweet & bitter green tea at the mostly all-male cafes, and towards the end got to walk around the Tanger medina. All in all, it was a great trip aside from the usual gastric disturbances.  Below are a few pics from the trip.  Enjoy and safe travels!

Al-Maghrib mrra tenia

Is Your RPCV Exhibiting Errant Conversations Syndrome?

Just recently, Peace Corps released the latest in a string of public service announcements (PSAs) commemorating the agency's 50 years of service to the United States and many parts of the world.  One PSA in particular captured my attention because it did an excellent job of portraying the random anecdotes I've been sharing with friends and family when I come across something that reminds me of my time in Morocco.

When greeting people for instance, I've been shaking people's hand as you customarily do here in the States, but now I proceed, as I did in Morocco, to place my right hand near to my heart to show my respect or to express how dear that person or that encounter is to me.  In Morocco, it was second nature to follow the handshake with a tap to one's heart, and despite being back home with old friends and in a completely different setting, my body almost involuntarily follows the same process.  Sometimes I catch myself in the act or others point it out, and explaining the gesture is often a topic of an errant conversation.

As far as language, I miss speaking darija.  The Moroccan Arabic dialect was fun to speak.  Phonetically speaking, it was a challenge to sound off the "ع" (aain) or "غ" (ghain) or the back of the throat "ق" (qa) or even the emphatic D, T, or to differentiate between the airy "ه" (similar to the 'h' for hello) or the raspy "ح" (similar to the sound you make to check if your breath smells).  During the first few months of service, combining some of these sounds seemed impossible, but after some time my tongue somehow came to accords with the sounds my ear was finally able to recognize and distinguish and slowly began to mimic them 'to the t'.

Even more challenging was understanding the hidden or indirect messages in Moroccan speech.  During training we were told that Moroccans used a ton of what our cultural and language facilitators called "God phrases" as part of their everyday language.  So instead of saying goodbye, they would say llah y3nk (God help you).  To thank someone for a good deed or to ask for a favor, they could say 3afak (the equivalent of please), but in most cases they would say llah yrHm l-walidin (God bless your parents) and my all-time favorite, preceding or following any statement calling for or mentioning any future action, insh'allah (God willing).

When I first arrived in site all 'gun ho' about starting a new project and building community support for it, I spoke to a number of people and tried to persuade them to join me in addressing some of the expressed needs of the community, but towards the end of our meetings, a large number of people would simply finish off our conversations with an insh'allah.  While it is true that we do not know what will happen tomorrow and we have little control over the future, being told that it was all up to God's will seemed a little fatalistic to me.  Later on though, I learned that the use of insh'allah was not only a way to show respect to the all-knowing God, but it was also used to say 'no' without offending the other person or to express that something is unlikely to happen.

Later on when people recognized that my speaking abilities had improved and I had demonstrated some fundraising capacity, some of the same people that had inshalla-ed me before began proposing their project ideas to me.  Unfortunately, by then I had already made commitments to other groups and had enough work for the rest of service, so without offending them, I respectfully inshalla-ed them back.

Back in the states, some people have proposed going to such and such an event or organizing something, and I've involuntarily blurted out insh'allah and I'm not doing it out of respect to God (although I respect It greatly), but mainly because the event or the activity does not appeal to me.  Sometimes I catch myself and sometimes others catch me saying it and wonder what the heck came out of my mouth, but then I explain that I do not know if I can or will be able to because it truly is up to God.  I say that I can't rule it out, but that I'd rather defer to God because no one really knows what the future may bring.  Unfortunately, this answer does not fly with most of my friends who still interpret this answer as some sort of newfound religious piety--not at all consistent with my beliefs and lifestyle--and not as a cordial way to say 'I am really not that interested'.  Then again, most U.S. Americans prefer directness, which is a cultural aspect that I've had to get readjusted to and that is often another subject of an errant conversation.

See the minute-long PSA titled "Conversations" below:    



Errant Conversation Syndrome (ECS) is common among all RPCVs.  Most exhibit symptoms throughout their lifetime.  They speak about their projects, language challenges, cultural differences, past bowel movements, pros and cons of Peace Corps, and a host of other service-related experiences.  At this time, there is no known "cure" (nor should there be) for this phenomenon, but I hear that active listening and a non-judgmental attitude are always welcomed.  And who knows? You may learn a thing or two from all these random pieces of information.  Thanks for reading.

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If you'd like to learn more darija, please visit the Friends of Morocco page on Learning Moroccan Arabic. I've also selected a few books on one of the recommended book widgets.  BssHa to your learning!

To watch other Peace Corps PSAs, please visit: http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.psa

My Unfinished List of Moroccan Culinary Treats: Mint Tea, Marinated Olives, Pure Olive Oil, Chebekia, and Harira

Moroccans are proud of their cuisine and they should be; it's some of the most tasty, best seasoned, and diverse in the Mediterranean.  Sometimes you need to take a drive to experience the diversity, and if you do, you'll certainly be rewarded.  Below is just one list of many lists to come.

I actually did not cook a lot of Moroccan food while in service, but was a happy recipient of a lot of home-cooked meals.  In most cases, the kitchen was off-bounds for me so I had to ask other female volunteers or search the web for insight into the magic that was taking place behind closed doors.  As I sit back and reflect on my two years of Peace Corps service, the cuisine is something that I'll surely miss.  However, even though I am back stateside, there's no reason why I shouldn't try to recreate the magic.  I'm going to give it my best shot.  Some of the items listed have links to recipes and preparation videos so I invite you to do the same.  Enjoy the read and enjoy the food!

Aatay b na na (Moroccan Arabic name for their sweet-as-molasses Moroccan mint tea) a.k.a. "Le Whisky Marocain"

Some Moroccan Tea at the Cascades of Ouzoud

Moroccans cannot be separated from their tea.  If the price of tea were to go up or if the government were to impose a tax on the consumption of tea, without a doubt there would be a massive revolt.  It is a Moroccan staple that is unlikely to change for many years to come.

No matter where you go, there will be countless invitations to share a little tea.  In the cold winters, there's nothing better to warm you up or to give your body a sugar jolt.  At first, I was really turned off by all the sugar, but then I began to miss the taste of their tea and towards the end I would get on the garçon's (waiter) case about skimping on the sugar.

The distinct taste is a result of two main factors.  Unlike the American or British tradition of pouring hot water over the leafs or herbs and letting it brew in the mug, Moroccans brew their green tea leaves in their ornamental teapots, they then add a brick of sugar and brew it a little longer, and then they turn off the gas and add fresh mint (naa na), verveine (luiza), or other seasonal herbs like wormwood (chiba) - the stuff they use to make absinthe.  All three varieties are super delicious and healthy if you cut down on the sugar.  I invite you to try them all.

You may also find that many Moroccans don't blow on their tea to cool it; instead, they slurrrp it.  It took me a while to master the technique, but essentially you breath it in as you drink it and it has the same cooling effect if you do it right. BssHA (To your health) on your tea drinking! 

Mountains of Olives

Moroccan black olives

Seasoned Moroccan green olives

Morocco is blessed with the perfect climate to produce some of the finest olives in the Mediterranean.  Their seasonal winter rains and clear, blue summer sky are ideal for the sun-loving olive groves.  For someone who was a fan of olives already, arriving in Morocco and seeing heaps upon heaps of olives at the souq (market) was such a comforting and overwhelming experience.  What's even more mind-blowing is how great each variety tastes and even more amazing than that is how cheap they are.  Your typical U.S. supermarket stocks various sizes of green Spanish olives or bland black ones.  In contrast, most Moroccan markets showcase their largess in rows of olive peaks of light and dark green olives marinated in a mix of red peppers or lemon and parsley, purple olives, and the bitter and wrinkly, but flavor-packed black olives. 

Moroccan cuisine incorporates olives into their meals quite well.  I remember one day during my Community-Based Training my host mother marinated a whole chicken with onions, peppers, lemon rinds, and a dash of saffron and other spices, placed it in the oven with all the seasonings and then brought out a golden brown chicken that was surrounded by a moat of tangy chicken broth on an innumerable amount of green olives bobbing in suspension just asking to be devoured.  I had this meal over two years ago and I can remember it as if it was yesterday.  What a delicious feast!

Unadulterated Olive Oil

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of Moroccan olive oil.  In terms of appearance, it looks a lot like the olive oil from Spain or Italy.  Some oils are filtered more than others.  Personally, I liked the strong bitter taste of some of the country-pressed oil that had undergone less filtering.

A typical breakfast in Morocco consisted of fresh out-of-the-oven bread that was then broken up and dabbed over olive oil.  Not what you would typically eat as breakfast in the U.S., but oh was it tasty.  The hot, toasty bread dunked in a little oil would simply melt in your mouth and the aroma of the oil was so wonderfully pleasant.

With such a large supply of olives, olive oil can be found everywhere also for much cheaper than you would find at U.S. or European stores.  I am surprised that Moroccan olive oil has not made it to U.S. stores yet.  According to the latest "Free Trade" deal between the U.S. and Morocco, olives and olive oil were going to be one of the few commodities that would start flowing to the U.S.  I hope it does, and I hope it does soon.

Ramadan Sweet Treats: Chebekia

When I arrived in Morocco back in September of '08, I got in about mid-way through Ramadan, a month characterized by the dawn to dusk no food or drink fast and more religious observance.  As you can imagine during the day, most people in the streets deprived of any liquids or food are moving in slow-motion careful not to exhaust their reserves.  When I first heard of Ramadan, I wasn't aware of the liquids ban and thought, "Now that's extreme." Then, later on I was invited to break the fast with my host family and tasted my first chebekia and thought, "Now that's extreme flavor!"

Even the bees are crazy for chebekia

These golden brown rolled and folded fried cookie dough treats smothered in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds were a wake-up call to my taste buds.  No MSGs necessary to go on a binge.  These confections are naturally addicting.

Sometimes I think that I should go on an anthropological expedition to find out how different foods came about.  Is there a National Geographic show or something on the Food channel on this?  Well, if there is, the next episode should focus on these crunchy, sweet hard-to-put-down confections.  Until a show reveals the history and evolution of this delicious Moroccan delight, I will thank the culinary God(s) for giving my fellow Moroccans this bit of divine inspiration.    

In my old town of Sefrou, I could buy about a quarter kilo for 5DH (less than $1) from a old medina hole-in-the-wall Hlwa hanut (sweets vendor), and I would typically finish it in one night.  If I wanted some with real honey instead of syrup, I would shell out about twice as much at a fancy patisserie for about the same amount.  It's a dieter's worst nightmare.  Mountain Dew wouldn't stand a chance against these guys in jacking up your blood sugar so unless you're going to expend the calories, eat responsibly.

Click here if you wish to see a recipe.  Fortunately, if you're on your way to Morocco, no need to wait until Ramadan; most patisseries and some old medina Hlwa street vendors carry them year-round.

Harira

Whenever someone utters the word harira, my mind automatically drifts to my first bowl ever where I learned the art of eating it with bowl in hand, swishing it around in circular motion, and then giving it a hearty slurp.  In the cold Moroccan winters, it was a lifesaver.  When I was broke, it would stave off a growling stomach without breaking the bank (2DH or 25 cents for a bowl).

Harira, harira, hariraaaaa!!!

Tomato serves as the base, but with cilantro, parsley, ginger, onions, chickpeas, lentils, carrots, celery, and a handful of vermicelli all mixed in, it's much more than a tomato soup; it's a bonanza of flavor that is full of substance.

Harira is also very common during Ramadan.  Generally, families break the fast with a bowl before moving on to other life-reviving foods.  Not to worry though, harira can also be found year-round at most restaurants, hole-in-the-wall harira vendors, and a lot of families make it to survive the winter.  Some will add a bit of harsha (the equivalent of American corn-bread) to it or will break apart a chebekia on top.  Others that like the sweet and salty combination will simply eat some dates while slurping a mouthful of harira.  There are many ways to experience this hearty soup.  If you're unsure how to approach it, try them all!

Do try this at home! Click here for the recipe.

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Before I wrote this entry, I thought about ranking the items, but then I thought about how silly rankings really are.  I mean how do you compare chebekia to couscous; they're on two different playing fields and my rankings were in constant fluctuation as one couscous tasted better or different in someone's home than it did in someone else's.  Also, every region in Morocco prepares things slightly different depending on the availability of ingredients.  I still have a lot more food items that I need to write about.  This list is bound to grow in the coming months and years.

Thanks for reading and again BssHa (To your health) on your culinary endeavors.

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I found a few bestselling books on Moroccan cuisine on Amazon.  According to one reviewer, Paula Wolfert wrote a textbook-like guide to Moroccan cooking back in the 1970s that is still the authoritative book.  Some of the newer ones have better pictures, but may not be as authentic.  Check them out!

  

So You Want To Join Peace Corps

I just had to pass this along.  I haven't laughed this hard in I don't know how long.  An RPCV put together a brief YouTube video of a conversation between a young man who just finished his Peace Corps application and a parent or friend who is all too aware of the cultural misunderstandings and frustrations and the emotional and physical challenges that the young man may encounter during his service.

The various bits on the gastrointestinal issues, picking out "worms like zits", the local, organic foods myth, experiencing what winter is really like without any heating, the occasional hermit phase that many volunteers go through, and the case of the overbearing and bureaucratic supervisors are so spot on.  I had first-hand experience with a few of these and some others were expressed by fellow volunteers.  So many memories flashed through my mind with each exchange.

Some people may feel that this video discourages anyone from joining, but I would beg to differ.  I think a dose of reality is necessary, and I think glossing over the difficulties or side effects of serving is worse.  I think a lot of young people need a sense of idealism to get through the rough patches, but they shouldn't be naive.  In a way that quixotic idealism is perhaps what prompts volunteers to help build a school where there was no school, set up a computer lab where there was none, foster the growth of a small business despite its many naysayers, or raise the self-esteem of young women in a society that does not value their input.  Sometimes you are able to accomplish the goals you set out for yourself and other times you fail miserably for a variety of reasons that may or may not be under your control.

Let's say hypothetically that I was able to go back to the past on a Back to the Future's DeLorean Time Machine (I've always wanted to, and yes, this movie reference is pretty old) knowing what I know now about my Peace Corps experience to the time when I decided to go.  Would I still go? Absolutely!  I was challenged personally and even professionally.  I'm not sure how you can measure personal growth, but I do agree with French novelist Marcel Proust who said, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”  Living in Morocco and traveling through the Middle East and Europe have exposed me to different ways people have decided to carry out their lives, and the journey has obliterated the notion of what we Americans consider to be the normal, usual, or the customary way of life.

I think it's difficult to understand another vantage point unless one is fully immersed in another, but it doesn't take a trip or an extended stay overseas to notice differences.  The U.S. is fortunate to have little pockets of people from all over the world that have established restaurants, businesses, and places of worship that reflect their values where one can get a taste of that culture.  And I guess if one is still wanting more, then of course, one should head out and plunge in to get the full experience.

So you want to join  the United States Peace Corps? If you have the time and the financial means to do so, do it!  Beware of the hardships.  Then, when you've had time to reflect a bit, come back to tell us what you've learned and what you've seen.  Enjoy the video and go ahead and finish your application already!




More travel quotes at: http://thinkexist.com/quotations/travel/

Is There Enough Milk and Honey for All?

So I got up early in the morning and my couchsurfing hosts in Israel dropped me off at a nearby bus stop where I was then able to take a bus to the central bus station in Jerusalem where I was then able to hop on an Egged bus to the Sheikh Hussein Bridge. The bus ride from Jerusalem to the Sheikh Hussein Bridge was 40.50NIS, same as last time, and the trek was about 2 hours or so.

The environs just north of Jerusalem and towards Bayt She'an are a stark contrast to the city of Jerusalem. In the city, you get the sense that water is not in short supply given the manicured lawns in some parts of town and grassy knolls south of the city, but as I moved north, I realized that much of what I had seen in Jerusalem was far from the norm.

The area north of Jerusalem resembled the dry desert wilderness that I had seen on my trek from Errachidia to Ouarzazate, Morocco. There were many dry river beds and plains scarred by precipitation and flash floods. However, unlike Morocco where the only patches of green could be found in the lush palmeries sprouting from the river beds, the north of Jerusalem had quite a large number of vegetable and fruit plots and an acre here and there of neatly lined palm trees in the middle of the pale, sun-scorched shrubbery landscape.  There were countless greenhouses and some plots even had black or clear plastic coverings for each row of whatever was growing underneath. The highway we were on was running parallel to the Jordan River Valley and you could see more green when you looked east, but it seemed like the farmers were trying to stretch out that green as far as possible and it looked like they were using the latest in irrigation know-how to make that happen.

Even with all the technological advancements though, it appears that all the countries relying on the Jordan River Valley and Sea of Galilee are headed to another standoff, not so much about the land, but about the lack of water.  Here's a brief excerpt from an Inventory of Conflict and Environment(ICE) study from American University titled Jordan River Dispute:

The consequences of unilateral action by each riparian [countries with water sources that feed the Jordan River] has been that both the aquifers and surface waters suffer from overuse use due to the large-scale diversion projects. The National Water Carrier and the East Ghor Canal almost dry out the Sea of Galilee year round. Diversion projects have also lowered the level of both the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea. This has caused aquifer levels to drop and has increased their salinity levels. Both Jordan and Israel have also over pumped their fossil (nonrenewable) aquifers. On top of these projects, the population growth in both countries is raising the demand for water. Israel has attempted water conservation in agriculture, where most water is wasted, through introducing the drip irrigation system and recycling of sewage water. This has helped save water in the area while at the same time irrigating more land with less water. It does not make much impact, though, without any joint conservation. Therefore, conflict under these circumstances is highly likely, and these depleting factors have in fact led to conflicts in the past.

 Source: http://www1.american.edu/ted/ice/westbank.htm

Sea of Galilee or Lake Tiberias from Jordan

I also read that Israel has plans to begin building settlements in the Negev Desert (Here's a short article from Newsweek calling to question David Ben Gurion's dream to see the desert bloom: http://www.newsweek.com/2008/06/28/the-myth-of-water.html). While I sympathize with many Jews and their desire to move back to the land of their forefathers, after taking that drive up and down from Bayt She'an to Jerusalem and back, I wonder whether they're even considering the environmental impact of their decision.

Israel is a leading innovator in irrigation and water management and with good reason--nearly half the country is semi-arid desert.  (Here's an achievements-filled and rather optimistic outlook titled Israeli Agriculture: Coping with Growth) They're also leading the way in building state of the art desalination plants that will hopefully supplement their unreliable and dwindling supply.

I applaud their efficiency and I think many countries should adapt some of their techniques even those that have ample supplies, but I wonder how far technology can forestall what seems like an inevitable water war much like the ones we're already experiencing in Nevada and Colorado and to some extent in Morocco between the urban and rural farming and cattle ranching communities.  At least in Morocco and in our Western states, it appears that people can still gather at the negotiating table.  For Israel and its neighbors, setting a date to meet at a table requires an entire diplomatic corps, months of wrangling about preconditions, and then, even if it is set, not all stakeholders are present.

It is presumed that when Moses spoke of a land “flowing with milk and honey” that he was gazing out towards the Jordan River Valley, and that valley is certainly a beautiful fertile oasis in the midst of an arid wilderness, but I wonder how far can that milk and honey be stretched for everyone that wishes to live out their dream of living in the Promised Land.

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Other Reads

Timeline of Water Conflicts in the Levant: http://www.nad-plo.org/nego/permanent/water/related/Howb.pdf

Amoebas No More, Inshallah

In one of my last blogs, I spoke about how insignificant I felt walking in the midst of towering mountains and plateaus that have been carved and molded over millennia by the chaotic cosmic forces of the universe.  Well, there happens to be something else that has also been around for millennia that has also made me feel completely insignificant and powerless, yet their size is microscopic at best, but the havoc they can wreck can render the healthiest and the most fit completely useless.  Yet, I don't think they have ever made it into a snazzy National Geographic documentary perhaps because they don't shoot out any venom, have sharp teeth, or strike at lightning speed; nonetheless, they should be given a show of their own and be recognized as a force to be reckoned with.  I speak of none other than the tiny, yet almighty amoeba.

On two separate instances, amoebas have invaded my stomach.  You would think that with all the gastric acid sloshing around that these little critters would never have a chance to survive, but somehow they do.  According to the authoritative Wikipedia, the name amoeba comes from the Greek work amoibe, which means change.  Before the word amoibe came about, Wikipedia says, "Early naturalist referred to Amoeba as Protus animalcule after the Greek God Protus who could change his shape."  And indeed, they do.  They expand, shrink, and form protective sheaths around themselves.  These critters are the shadiest of characters lurking in what appears to be refreshingly clean spring water, coasting on the surface of what looks like well-cooked and certainly appetizing street food, or hiding within what seems like healthy looking fruits and veggies.  It's impossible to tell when they arrived or from whence they came because they often forgo duplication until the environment is just right for them.  Oh but when they do, be ready for the gastrointestinal fight of the ages.  

Within the volunteer community, conversations about our bowel movements are as common as speaking about the weather.  We have come to regard a solid stool as something of a novelty and reminds us of better days.  Those fond memories help us weather the days when it feels as if all your internal organs are being liquefied and being expelled with the force of a cataclysmic volcanic eruption that is then followed by tremors, murmurs, and subsequent explosions that leave one feeling completely helpless and subject to the will of your stomach.

During these recurrent blasts of liquid fire, your stomach becomes a prima-donna of sorts rejecting anything that it deems unworthy of its peculiar taste, and sometimes it rejects any food or beverage outright.  Fortunately for these moments, our Peace Corps med kits are stocked with sodium and electrolyte packets that when mixed with water are the equivalent of chugging a full glass of ocean water. Yum, yum!  Naturally, without any food or calories to burn, your body goes into hibernation mode.  The common saying ‘I feel empty inside’ voiced by many seeking some sort of spiritual transcendence or satisfaction in their lives takes on a literal meaning.

After a day of violent convulsions and eruptions, your stomach now purged of the foreign invaders begins to tolerate some simple starches.  From there, we begin our BRAT diet regime, which includes bananas, rice, apples, and toast.  It's a rather bland menu, but flavor is the last thing on your mind.  With every bite you take, you utter a prayer in the hopes that your inflamed, hypersensitive, and enzyme-depleted stomach will accept the tiniest of morsels.

Little by little, your stomach returns to normalcy, but unless you’ve undergone treatment to eradicate the versatile amoeba, the Hindenburg style bloating, napalm spewing anus, and magma churning stomach are bound to return.  The PC Med Team is well versed on amoebas, giardia, food poisoning, and other symptoms of gastrointestinal warfare.  Over the course of my service, I’ve been on an intensive three-day as well as a seven-day treatment of Tinidazole and/or Intetrix.  Upon taking the drugs, you may think that all will be fine and well from henceforth, but that path to recovery is a long and troublesome road.  In some cases, the drugs can be just as debilitating as the amoebas.  The medicine kills all bacteria even the good guys leaving your stomach devoid of the normal flora needed to break down food.  

In the absence of your normal bacteria, sometimes yeast can multiply uninhibited giving you more gas and other strange symptoms.  In such cases, you scrap the BRAT diet and introduce a more complex diet of cooked veggies, proteins, yogurt, and some friendly probiotic treatments like Ultra Levure. 

When I get back to the states, I’m totally auditioning for the Bio Activia commercials.  My dialogue with that of another volunteer would go something like this:

            Jonathan: [Casually with an empathetic smile] Hi, Mary, have you been spewing fire from every orifice again?

            Mary: [Sighing] Oh, thank goodness that’s over, but I’ve been bedridden for the last few days ever since taking my anti-parasite medicine and my stomach can’t digest worth a crap. [Ha ha]

            Jonathan: Been there.  Have you ever tried Activia?

            Mary: Activia?

            Jonathan: Yes, that’s what I said.

            Mary: Why no? What is it?

            Jonathan: It’s a magical yogurty concoction that contains Bifidus Regularis.

            Mary: What the heck is Bifidus Regularis?

            Jonathan: It’s friendly bacteria that can help in the digestive process after your typical Mt. Saint Helen’s-esque eruptions or whiplash-like convulsions.

            Mary: Why Jonathan, I’m just gonna have to try it!

            Jonathan: You won’t regret it, but if you still have excessive gas, constipation, diarrhea, and other abnormal symptoms on a frequent basis, check with your doctor because the parasites must have really done a number on you and you may be in need of a complete revamp of your diet that may or may not include Activia to avoid the onset of other chronic gastrointestinal disturbances.

            Mary:  Wow, Jonathan. I knew I could count on you to provide me a prolonged explanation that is only slightly comforting.

            Jonathan:  Hey, that’s what I’m here for.

I’m going to pitch it to Danone when I get back.  I’m sure it will have to go through legal and their med unit before it’s approved.  I’ll keep you posted.

The road to recovery is one that needs to be reassessed on a continuous basis.  The PC Med Team has already confirmed that I will have health vouchers so that I can conduct all the necessary tests and trials to ensure that traces of parasites are absent from my fragile and sensitive system, which may entail a government-funded colonoscopy.  Bring it on!

Amoeba Action Figure

As you may know, I am all about full disclosure.  I knew quite well that coming to Peace Corps, inherently, carries a number of risks.  If I'm not mistaken, the number one cause of death amongst volunteers is transportation accidents, which to some extent is out of your hands.  Anti-parasite meds usually take care of amoebas, but the after effects of the damage and the side effects of the meds can last for a brief moment or could develop into something more long-term.  But unlike transportation accidents, you can reduce your chances of an epic bout with amoebas to nil.  When I first arrived in Morocco, I criticized Moroccan cuisine for their propensity to cook their veggies to a mush.  I cried, “Oh where, oh where have all the raw veggies and salads gone?” Now I understand why.  They know all about amoebas and wisely pressure-cook their veggies until they resemble a dilapidated, torn, and strewed figure of their once wholesome selves.  Now, I say, “Bring on the mush.”  I scoffed when other volunteers living in urban sites like mine would boil their water saying, “Why do you waste precious buta gas on treated water?”  Now, after learning that even in my own town of Sefrou treatment capacity is compromised after heavy rains, which happens quite often during the winter months, I boil my water religiously.  As far as street food is concerned, I said a sorrowful goodbye.  Our PC Med Team did share a lot of information at Pre-service Training, but I think my youthful naiveté of invincibility clouded my thinking, and as such, I learned a very important lesson: that even the most fit is no match for the itty-bitty, teeny-weensy yet all powerful amoebas.  

Not surprisingly, even poets acknowledged the magnificence of these little creatures.  Here’s a witty tribute by Arthur Guiterman:

"Ode To The Amoeba"

Recall from Time's abysmal chasm

That piece of primal protoplasm

The First Amoeba, strangely splendid,

From whom we're all of us descended.

That First Amoeba, weirdly clever,

Exists today and shall forever,

Because he reproduced by fission;

He split himself, and each division

And subdivision deemed it fitting

To keep on splitting, splitting, splitting;

So, whatsoe'er their billions be,

All, all amoebas still are he.

Zoologists discern his features

In every sort of breathing creatures,

Since all of every living species,

No matter how their breed increases

Or how their ranks have been recruited,

From him alone were evoluted.

King Solomon, the Queen of Sheba

And Hoover sprang from that amoeba;

Columbus, Shakespeare, Darwin, Shelley

Derived from that same bit of jelly.

So famed is he and well-connected,

His statue ought to be erected,

For you and I and William Beebe

Are undeniably amoebae!

(http://www.blueridgejournal.com/poems/ag-amoeba.htm)

Introducing Mouhsine Khadira, Woodcarver Extraordinaire

One of my woodcarvers at the Sefrou Artisana finally agreed to have some of his work showcased to a wider audience. He is little apprehensive about publicizing his work out of fear that others could copy his ideas. I find that some of his work is so unique that it would be very difficult for someone to be able to do that, but according to Mouhsine, he has seen it happen with frequency.  He said that he'll go to an artisana expo one year and then see some of his models replicated by other woodcarvers the following year.

Mouhsine is one of the most chill individuals I know. I enjoyed hanging out with him, drinking tea with him in his boutique, and just talking about anything that came to mind.  From my travels through Morocco, I would have to say that out of the countless thuya-woodcarving shops I walked in and out of in Essaouira, one of the biggest woodcarving centers, his creativity and attention to detail are unparalleled. I have had the chance to watch him create a piece from conception. His careful planning and solid execution are admirable.

Mouhsine finally allowed me to post some of his materials because he would like one day to travel abroad to other woodcarving or contemporary art expos. Off the top of my head, I don't know of any expos in the U.S. or in Europe that would welcome his work. If you do, please send them my way. Like many artisans in Morocco, much of their amazing work goes unnoticed. We hope this site will get Mouhsine a little attention, which will hopefully lead to more opportunities in the near future.


The site was created with the intent to promote his work and not necessarily to sell (an e-portfolio of sorts); however, if you're interested in purchasing one of his sculptures, you can contact him directly if you speak French or Arabic or visit his boutique at the Ensemble Artisanal Bab El Mkam in Sefrou.  For more info, please click on the Contactez-moi page .

At the moment, he does not have a catalogue available.  Some of the pieces in Mes Sculptures have names.  You could use those names to inquire about a price.  If you'd like to have an item shipped,   DHL and FedEx service is available, but they run about 750DH a kilo or nearly $100 p/kilo.  Poste Maroc, the national postal service, is fairly reliable and will run about a third of what DHL and FedEx would cost you, but will take 2-3 weeks time to deliver anything and there have been instances where the delivery never arrives at its destination.  For a list of their rates, please visit and search under the "Vos Envois des Messagerie" @ http://www.bam.net.ma


http://www.wix.com/khadira/sculptures

Free website - Powered By Wix.com

P.S. I copied and pasted most of the text on the site from an old brochure that the previous Sefrou PCV made for Mouhsine.  My French is such that I can understand what the brochure is saying, but I can't tell you if it's grammatically correct.  For all you native French speakers, if you see something out of place, please let me know.  I and Mouhsine will be extremely grateful and as we say in Morocco for all good deeds done out of the kindness of your heart, llah yrHm l-walidin (May God bless your parents).

Language and Identity: Are Catalan and Tamazight in a Similar Struggle?

Last week I wrote a bit about my journey through the maze of languages present in Morocco. I wrote about how moving from one language to another or incorporating, for instance, more French in Darija can change people's perception of you. As I reflect even more in these listless days of Ramadan, I realize that Morocco is not alone in this state of flux.

The debate is out on whether encouraging or allowing other languages or dialects to thrive foments dissension.  If the country's administration is a control-freak, then it can certainly look that way, but if it applies a more laissez-faire approach, it may find that it has more to gain culturally and economically in the long run.

In my last trip to Europe, I found out that some parts of Italy and Spain are in a somewhat similar predicament to Morocco. When I visited my friends in Italy, I found out that although Italian is the predominant language of all Italy, there are a number of dialects that are widely spoken. My friend had just moved from the south of Italy to Rome and expressed difficulty understanding the Romans who he said were not speaking Italian but some sort of Roman dialect. When I hopped over to Barcelona, I was greeted with a mix of Spanish and Catalan. I found Catalan written on all the buildings, street signs, city maps, and restaurant menus alongside the Castilian Spanish (castellano) equivalent. At a party, I could speak Spanish to anyone there, but as soon as I'd finish the conversation, that person would turn around and speak Catalan to his/her friends. In Matarò on the Costa Brava near Barcelona in the Autonomous Region of Catalonia, I got to hang out with a Dominican family who had migrated there a little over 5 years ago. Their son who came to Catalonia at a young age told me that he was already fluent in Catalan. I asked him about his classes. I was curious to know about the effect of the reinstatement of Catalan as the official language of Catalonia on the educational system. He told me that he is taught every subject from math, sciences, and history in Catalan. He is taught Catalan as the primary language. Castilian Spanish still forms part of his core classes, but it is regarded as a second language only to be studied and used within that class. He also has the option of a third language as an elective for which he chose English.

His father who has been living there for over 7 years told me that he hasn't even attempted to learn it.  His reasons are that everyone can understand his Castilian Spanish just fine and why would he learn a language that is only spoken in one region of the country. His sentiments sound similar to the Moroccans who can't understand why I have devoted so much time to Darija when it is only understood in the streets of Morocco and only vaguely understood in much of the Arab world. According to one of my Catalonian friends from Barcelona, he said that after the death of Franco--a fierce nationalist dictator who took over after the Spanish Civil War and went about repressing many dialects and languages while making Castilian Spanish the predominant tongue--a lot of dialects and languages have experienced a renaissance. It's unclear where this rebirth of languages will lead. It certainly changed my perception of Spain from a homogeneous Castilian Spanish speaking country as I was taught in primary school in Venezuela to what is really a linguistically heterogeneous country of many languages and dialects.

Flag of Catalunya

Like the Moroccans who feel more attached to their Rifian, Tamazight, Tashelheit, and other native languages, many Catalans feel that it is imperative to speak the language, to promote its use, to teach the language in school, and to gain recognition politically because the language is not just a tool for communicating, it defines who they are, what they believe, where they come from, and how they perceive the world--for a recent article on language and perception, check out this link from NY Times, Does Your Language Shape How You Think?.

From an economic standpoint, one could argue that it is a waste of time and resources to learn a language that is not widely used. I remember thinking back in high school that I wanted to learn French rather than German because according to my textbooks, there seemed to be more parts of the world shaded in as francophone countries than there were for German.  I justified my choice thinking that it would be more likely for me to use French than German in my future professional career or for traveling. If I was to look only through that lens considering only the present state of things and disregarding the past and the future, I would posit to Catalans and to the Amazigh that indulgence in their respective languages is detrimental to their economic success. I would ask why they would push for use of a language when Castilian Spanish is the lingua franca in their country and in much of Latin America. I would ask some Moroccans why they would seek to teach Tamazight when nearly everyone around them speaks Darija and when the demand for French, English, or Spanish is growing as the country continues to liberalize their economy.  From an outsider's point of view without much background on how Catalan and Tamazight had been suppressed, it would seem that those advocating the use of their language are living in the past and perhaps jeopardizing their future.  What is difficult for many outsiders to understand is that they have a different view of the future shaped by their native language that sees new economic opportunities.

Singing English with El Cuatro would sound a bit discordant

When I look at the debate through my own personal experience with my struggle to hold on to my native castellano, I can sympathize with their feelings.  When our family moved back to the U.S., I was eager to learn English so that I could make friends and survive in school. I was only ten years old when we made the move. Fortunately, my brain at that time was in absorb-and-repeat mode rather than in need of conjugation or other grammar rules, and I was a lot cuter back then so mistakes were regarded as funny rather than potential offenses as they are sometimes perceived now. Consequently, as I learned more English and was surrounded by an anglophone environment I slowly began to lose the fluidity of my Spanish, and with it; I also began to lose a part of who I was.

One example that I think illustrates how my Spanish language upbringing shaped my perception is apparent in how I feel about the game of baseball.  For example, when I first arrived to the U.S., I could narrate a baseball game in true Venezuelan fashion describing every movement and every finite detail in dramatic form giving every pitch, swing, steal, double play, and home run a plot that would crescendo to a climax and would conclude with commentary about the angst or elation that the player must have felt at the end of the play. Bear in mind that all of this is spoken at spitfire, breakneck speed--if you have the opportunity to hear a Spanish language broadcast of a Major League Baseball game, you'll see what I'm talking about.

This play by the great Omar Vizquel would
most certainly bring a shower of beer

The game of baseball takes on a different light in Spanish, and I was forgetting this. The Latin American Spanish narrating drives people to a frenzy while the U.S. narration of the game is slower, more relaxed, with lots of statistics, and definitely not as colorful. I totally understood why my girlfriend could not watch a game with me. In my mind, I still heard the voices of the broadcasters painting every play in typical melodramatic telenovela style.

When I go to a U.S. ballpark, I always feel something is missing. People would drink their beers at U.S. stadiums; in Venezuela, you bought some beers to drink and others to spray the crowd after every big play, most certainly after every home run, and even more so after a win. Even today, if I have the choice of a Spanish or English broadcast, I always choose Spanish. Why? Because to me, the frenetic Spanish language broadcast describes the game in such a way that it makes me reminisce to my days playing street ball in my old barrio neighborhood. The baseball game is the same for both the anglophone and Spanish-speaking public, but their views of the game, the passion, the anxiety, and the excitement are felt and exhibited in different ways.

I believe Catalans and Amazigh would feel the same way about their poetry, their music, and other means of artistic expression. Translating it would take away much of the beauty. Suppressing the language would be a form of suppression of expression. Having to describe their world in a language that originated somewhere else under a different environment and different social structure would perhaps distort, be insufficient, or incompatible with their current understanding under their native tongue.

When the repression of the Catalan language was lifted, Catalan re-emerged and its emergence did not dampen its economic prosperity; quite the contrary, Catalonia was and continues to be one of the most affluent of the Spanish autonomous regions.  Catalan literature, poetry, radio, film, newspapers, and other forms of media came out into the open and were welcomed by the Catalonians.  The absence of Catalan print was a suppressed demand.  Could this also be the case for Tamazight language?  It could very well be.  So actually from an economic point of view, it may be that promoting Tamazight may have the effect of generating more domestic economic activity as the local population now has media that speaks to them and speaks for them.

If I had a vote in this matter, I would vote for both the Catalonians and the Amazigh to continue to promote their languages. Variety is the spice of life. I don’t think Tamazight is confusing the kids. It’s probably confusing them now because the pedagogy, still in its inception, is confusing, but in time, a sound curriculum will be developed, inchallah. Differing worldviews and forms of expression are needed and I believe there is plenty of room for them in our global village.

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Here's some additional reading from Maghrebia, a tri-lingual online news portal on everything Maghreb, that speaks to the struggle of Amazigh in gaining recognition.

Amazigh rights issue pits Moroccan Berbers against Islamists

Here's another article.  This one comments on the drive to improve the pedagogy of Tamazight.

Activists call for qualified Amazigh language instruction

As for language resources, if you plan to be in Catalonia, picking up a few words will earn you some brownie points from the locals.  Colloquial Catalan: A Complete Course for Beginners (Colloquial Series)

Lastly, just to give you a taste of Venezuelan narrated baseball, check out this YouTube video of a couple of home runs hit by a couple of players from Los Leones contra Los Magallanes during the final playoff series:

The Shamal Series Honorable Mentions: Volubilis, Oulmes, Mehdia Beach, and Mouley Bousselham

Continuing on with the Shamal Series, I'd like to present a few travel options that I think are worth a stop if you have the time.  I write these entries to let people know about other places other than your well-known tourist-magnet cities like Fez, Marrakesh, or Essaouira, in the hopes that you may have the chance to have as good a time as I had visiting these sites.

1) Volubilis (To Moroccans, Walili)

Actually, this first site is perhaps one of the most popular tourist spots in all of Morocco and draws thousands of people from around the world every year (The next site is out of the beaten path; I promise).  Volubilis is one of the largest ruins of Roman civilization in the Maghreb.  It is set in the middle of a wide open expanse of farmland.  According to my Rough Guide to Morocco, the Romans chopped down the trees in the region to make room for the cultivation of wheat and other grains and for olive trees that to this day border the hillside.  The place is pretty big and you do get the sense that you are in the midst of what used to be a vibrant commercial center.

I think what is cool about the place is how different the architecture and the layout of the city is in comparison to the medieval-esque medinas of Morocco.  The Romans expressed themselves artistically through imagery and exalted their nobles; as such, they created some very elaborate stone-pixel mosaics to enshrine for centuries to come those they admired. A sharp contrast to the Muslim cities where Islam prohibited the construction of statues and mosaics of faces, bodies, or any figure.  In their place, their medieval cities are adorned with intricate geometric kaleidoscope like mosaics and calligraphy.

Mosaic of the Athlete

The mosaics of the various city nobles are also impressive.  I've been told that watching the sunrise or sunset over the ancient city ruins is amazing.  For sure, don't go when I went at the height of the day when the sun is bearing down on you.  There are only a few trees around for shade so plan accordingly.  There is a nice cafe near the entrance with some trees, and across the street you can find a few gift shops and hanuts selling all sorts of snacks and even some ice cream.  

To get there, go to Meknes.  If you're arriving via grand taxi from Rabat or Fes, you'll be dropped off across the street from the bus station (gare routière or maHtta d kiran).  If you arrive at either of the Meknes train stations, take a petit taxi to the gare routière.  Just below the gare routière (not the CTM one), you will find grand taxis that run to Mouley Idriss about 30k north of Meknes.  Fare was 10DH in 2010 for your typical one butt-cheek sitting space.  The grand taxi will drop you off at the city square where you'll find plenty of station wagon taxis with signs to Volubilis charging around 5DH for the 5K ride.  For the return trip, you could tag along with other tour groups back to Meknes.  You could also trek back to Mouley Idriss and from there you can find plenty of taxis heading to Meknes.  A lot of taxis frequent the road picking up passengers on the way back to Meknes.  We boarded one of those taxis and paid the same amount we would have paid had we left from Moulay Idriss.  How do you know if they're in the business of picking up passengers? You can flag them down or just wait to hear a beep, which can mean two things: I have room for you or you're about to get run over.  Just be alert.

2) Oulmes

This little town is the site of one of the finest finds in all of Morocco: the Source Llala Haya, provider of the best tasting effervescent mineral water in all of Morocco.  There are a number of ways to get to Oulmes.  I went by way of Khemisset.  From the main Khemisset grand taxi station, small passenger vans called (transits or stuffits--no kidding and they do stuff them to the brim sometimes) head out to Oulmes.  The ride there is a little bumpy and curvy as the transit winds through the mountain ledges and plows through the hillside.  Once out of Khemisset, all you can see is wheat farms, cows and sheep grazing, and rolling hills and mountains dotted with shrubbery trees.  It took about an hour or so to get there.  We chilled out with some fellow PCVs for the night and then headed out early morning to the source.  We took a small transit that cost 4DH to get to the site of the bottling facility.

From there it was a 3K downhill trek zig-zagging all the way on a paved trail to the source, and on the trail you get to see up close the shrubbery trees dotting the rocky mountainside.  Upon reaching the source, you cross a river to what looks like a small shaded campsite facility.  There are attendants there who welcome you and give you a 2-minute tour of the facility basically showing you where the water is coming from and the room where a couple of bathtub-size pits have been dug in to accommodate those who wish to experience the magical healing powers of the thermal waters of Oulmes.  The water is streaming in and emptying out so it seemed pretty hygienic.

Johnny performing a do-it-yourself baptism at the source

I didn't take a bath, but I did wash my head a bit, which was wonderfully refreshing after the brief hike.  At the site, they got a few picnic tables overlooking the ravine.  Later on, I was about to drink straight out of this water hose by the picnic tables, but the attendant told me that the water at the campsite was unfiltered and was kind enough to give us a couple of Sidi Ali water bottles free-of-charge.  We then hiked up back to the bottling facility and from there we took the transit ride back to Oulmes.  

The bottling company has a hotel offering thermal baths, and my PCV friends said that the restaurant there is also very good.  For more information, see the link below:    

http://www.oulmes.ma/indexfr.htm

3) Mehdia Beach

As a pisces, my connection and attraction to water are stronger than most.  Luckily for me, the ocean is only about a three-hour train ride away.  It's a luxury and one that I indulge in whenever possible.  Every here and then I get the chance to go to Rabat for some official Peace Corps business and on such occasions I make sure a trip to the beach is on the agenda.

Mehdia Beach is the ideal spot if you want to get away from the hustle and bustle of the capital city and relax in the laid-back atmosphere of this beach resort/fishing town.  The beach is fairly long, the water is calm, although the surf can pick up later in the afternoon and onto the evening.  There are plenty of cafés, restaurants serving a range of seafood and fried fish, and hotels and maison d'hôtes for every kind of traveler, and it is not packed with tourist, but mostly locals.  The only downside is that it can get a little trashy from time to time, not people-wise per se, but just lots of litter, so watch your step as you stroll through the beach.

Perhaps the reason why it is not so tourist-heavy is  due to its somewhat remote location, but by no means should it discourage anyone from going there.  It's actually very easy to get there even with public transportation.  From Rabat, take the train to Kenitra Medina Station, the last stop on the urban rail lines that run every half hour from Casablanca.  Upon exiting the station, make a right towards the stairs, climb up the stairs, make a right at the top walking down until you reach an Oil Libya gas station, from there make a left and walk straight past all the hanuts until you reach the end of the block, and then look to your right and some orange grand taxis should be there waiting for passengers.  Normally, once you reach the Oil Libya gas station you should be able to see the taxis, but right now the square where they congregate is under construction.  If anything, just ask the hanut owners for the mahtta d taksiyat d Mehdia and they'll point you in the right direction.  Taxi fare was 5DH.  Train ride from Rabat was 15DH, and all in all, it should take you no more than an hour from the Rabat Ville Station to the sands of Mehdia.

4) Mouley Bousselham

If you still feel like getting even farther away from the city, a trip to Mouley Bousselham can probably soothe the most erratic nerves.  Because it´s a little bit further out, you see even less tourists and certainly more locals.  To the west is the beach and to the south is a beautiful lagoon and marshland called the Merdja Zerga that is frequented by a whole array of migratory birds, egrets, and even some flamingos.

Last time I was there, the beach had some rough waves and strong undercurrents.  It was closely guarded by lifeguards.  I mainly saw some families playing near the edge of the water and a good number of fishermen laying out multiple fishing poles and then chilling back on a lawn chair. The lagoon empties onto the ocean so I imagine that it is safer to swim.

I stayed at Hotel Miramar on the oceanfront, one of the cheaper options in town, but I don't recommend it.  The rooms are big.  They have a bedroom and a salon with ponges ideal for a small family.  They started at 250DH for the night, but we bargained down to 200DH.  One could  probably go a bit further.  The hot water in the public bathrooms never worked morning or night and at night the terrace is used as a pool hall with chabbi music blaring until 1-2AM despite requests to have the music lowered.

It was funny to hear the locals in the other rooms saying that there were foreigners in the hotel.  Mouley Bousselham is one of many sites Moroccans make a pilgrimage to in order to honor their various saints and tribal leaders of the past.  The Marabout of Mouley Bousselham rests prominently next to the grand plaza on the oceanfront.
    
Food-wise, many restaurants are serving all sorts of grilled or fried seafood for reasonable rates.  One piece of advice is to stay near the oceanfront and away from the lagoon side as you get closer to the night.  Just moving out of the ocean breeze for a bit can land you a good number of mosquito bites.  Overall though, a nice, clean, and quiet beach to calm the nerves.

To get there from Rabat, take a train to Kenitra Medina Station and upon exiting make a left and walk towards the grand taxis going to Mouley Bousselham.  The fare was 40DH and about an hour long.  They take the toll road to Tangiers for much of the way. You are dropped off about 1k from the oceanfront. As you get near it, you'll be presented with various maison d'hotes options from various faux guides that may actually be better than the hotel options.

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I think this about wraps up the Shamal Series.  There are still a number of places in northern Morocco that are worthy of individual entries namely Chefchaouen.  I actually went there, but just crashed the place for only one night.  Inchallah, I'll have the opportunity to visit and hike a bit in the Rif Mountains.

I've yet to talk about my trips to the south of the country.  I hope to highlight a few of them such as: the desert trek, the Todra Gorge, the palmeries, and some of the beaches near and around Agadir.  It's been quite an experience to see so much contrast in the landscape from marshlands to a sea of desert dunes, coastal plains to towering mountains, and an oasis of palmeries in the middle of a desert wilderness.  Moroccans are lucky to live in such a country.  I hope everyone has the chance to see what I have seen and to marvel at the beauty that perhaps a deity or the cosmic forces of the universe has created.

BssHa (To your health) on your travels!