The Shamal Series: Chefchaouen, Meknes, and Tangiers

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, a.k.a. 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. 

 

The shamal was once part of a vast region called Al Andalus that extended through much of the Iberian Peninsula consisting of modern-day Spain and Portugal. The Muslim Caliphate of Cordoba held much of territory since the 8th century before the Spanish Reconquista gained full control late in the 15th century. Fast-forwarding to the early 20th century, much of the shamal was under a Spanish Protectorate regime from 1912-1956. Given the long history between the peoples and political powers of this region, it is no surprise to see vestiges of Spanish influence in the architecture, especially in Tangiers as you will see in several photos. This is also a region where Spanish more so than French is heard in the street (Tangiers and Chefchaouen, not Meknes), which for me was nice to hear and made it easier to get around when my darija or French failed me.

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, granaries, plazas, and their majestic and enormous gates to its medieval city.  I also got to reconnect with old friends over some scrumptious pastilla, 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 Tangiers medina. All in all, it was a great trip aside from the usual gastric disturbances.  

 

Below are some of my favorite pics. Thank you for reading the blog and keep on traveling!

 

 Meanderings around Chefchaouen or Chaouen as the locals say

 

 

In and around Meknes

 

Meknes - Mausoleum Moulay Ismail

 

The Granaries

 

 

Moroccan Pastilla in Meknes

 

 

Back to Tangiers or Tanja as the locals say it

 

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!

  

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)