Hot, Hot, Hot

Last time, I mentioned midterm season was approaching. Well, it has hit, what I hope, is it peak. This week I had two midterms--not too bad--but they were complex in-class essays. As one can imagine,  I spent this past weekend studying. However, I did not let it stop my travels this time. I took a day trip to a few destinations: Moulay Idriss Zerhoun, Volubilis (وليلي), and Meknes.

The most amazing part is that we had one taxi driver take us to all of the destinations. He was extremely kind and gave us a really good price. Since we had been traveling with him for almost three hours in total, we got to know him a little--as much as one could with our 'baby' Arabic skills.

 On the drive, we saw a lot of interesting-looking piles. Upon observing our interest toward the piles, our taxi driver said: "Ba'sil" (بصل) which means onions. The only reason that I remember that particular food name is because when I learned it, I thought to myself, 'I will never use this word because I do not like onions' (unless they are caramelized).

As I look back at the pictures that I took of these giant mounds of onions, I realize that I really need to work on my photography. Anyhow, one can vaguely see yellow mounds in both of the images above. These are tons and tons of onions piled together. Through our broken Arabic conversation with the taxi driver, we discovered that we were in fact, driving through Morocco's "onion country". I was truly interesting and beautiful to see agriculture at work. Further down the road, when we were approaching Moulay Idriss Zerhoun, I saw a landscape that reminded me of home. As pictured in the images below, there are Cacti, some trees that I do not know the name of, and Century plants. All of these can be found in my home area.

After about two hours--I really have no concept of how long the drive really was because the time was filled with conversation and singing--we arrived to Moulay Idriss Zerhoun. The taxi driver slowed down to a crawl because the streets were packed with people. In a lot of places, especially smaller towns, the streets are for pedestrians and cars alike. He was having trouble finding a parking spot, so he told us to get out of the taxi and begin our exploration while he looked for a parking spot. Our plan was to meet him back at the car after we had finished exploring. Upon stepping out of the taxi, my friends and I quickly realized that we were the only 'outsiders'. So when a man approached us offering a tour, we took his offer even though we knew it would cost us. Normally, we would have turned down any offers of tours because the price that they will charge at the end is unpredictable and certain people can be aggressive after the tour. We took that chance because we knew that there were places in the maze of a city that we, as non-Muslims, were not supposed to enter as a show of respect. He was very nice and spoke a little bit of Arabic, French, and Spanish. My friend from France did most of the translating, but what was surprising--to both her and I--is, oddly, I could understand most of what he was saying. Moulay Idriss Zerhoun spans across two mini peaks. Our makeshift guide took us to the top of one peak and described the history of the town. It was such a beautiful city with a rich history. 

After about an hour of walking around the city listening to the history, we decided it was time to go. We were able to bargain the price that he wanted down by about forty percent. He pointed down the main road and said that our taxi driver was somewhere down there. VERY specific, right? Wrong. We spend about 30 minutes trying to locate our driver. We were able to find his car, but our phones were not working, so we had no way to contact him. Eventually, we asked two women if we could borrow their phone. We were able to contact him and got on our way to the next location. 

Volubilis (وليلي) was the next stop. At this point, the temperature had risen to a slightly uncomfortable degree. We drank some water during the ride over. I noticed that our Taxi driver did not have water. I had a spare bottle so I insisted he take my extra one. I didn't want him to get dehydrated. We paid ten dirhams to enter the ancient city and began our exploration. There were so many beautiful sights on this path. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 After we finished exploring the ancient city, we found our taxi driver and he took us to Meknes. We made a bee-line for the Medina--as we always do in each city that we visit. At this point, we came to the realization that we were extremely dehydrated. Luckily, we found a great cafe with a nice terrace and immediately ordered water and juice. We cooled down and planned our next steps. We decided to walk around the Medina to look for a few items: an Arabic newspaper, Argan oil, and cleaning supplies. We wandered and got sidetracked--as tends to happen in the Medina--a few times. During this trip, we really tried to utilize the little Arabic skills that we had. This led us down the 'rabbit hole' that is the maze of the Medina. We conversed and followed a couple of men. One of which was a Metal Artist. He was so kind and excited that we were attempting to converse in Arabic. He took us to a little alleyway that he called the Metal sector (that is roughly what he said). We were the only women, and the only outsiders, but we were safe because we were with him. He and his brother showed us the process to create the beautiful metal pieces. It was really interesting. Then he directed us back to the main square. From there, we asked a cafe worker if he knew where we could find a newspaper. He didn't understand what we were trying to find, so we tried asking for a "Ja'rida" (the Arabic name for a newspaper). He immediately knew what we were searching for and directed us to a little stand. Here we tried our Arabic again and bought a newspaper and juice. Then I asked the stand-keeper if he knew where to find "Zeit Argan" (Argan oil). As it turns out, he father actually sold the oil along with many other hair and skin products. The man walked us over to his father's shop--who apparently only sold to Moroccans--and I began to bargain. Originally, his father wanted 300 dirhams ($30) for a small container of Argan oil. I proceeded to bargain with him in Arabic. Eventually, after I used new words that I had just learned to form a sentence along the lines of "I will return later, Insha'Allah". After hearing that, he realized that I actually understood most of what he and his son were saying. As I was making a move to walk away, he quickly said 30 dirhams ($3). I took that price because it was an excellent price for oil. This experience taught me that if you make a real effort to speak the language, people will not only be amazed but give you a respectful price. 

 I have grown to love the Medina because it never ceases to teach new lessons upon each trip in. Every turn greets you with a new experience. If you ever find yourself in Morocco, go to the Medina, but travel in a small group (three to five people) and be prepared to be met with sometimes shocking new experiences.