North to Tangier, South to Ouzoud

Much to catch up on. (At right: the view from my living room window!)

We took our second group trip at the beginning of the month, going north to Tangier, a huge hilly city right on the water. In the past the city was famous for being a den of just about every kind of debauchery, as well as a hangout for Paul Bowles, a couple of Beats, and definitely painters (Sargent and Matisse for a start). Some of the seediness definitely remains - no where else in Morocco have we been offered drugs on the street...

First stop in Tangier was the American Legation, a beautiful building that used to be the American embassy, where they have stockpiled lots of art, beautiful furniture and old maps. The fluffy wall to wall carpets gave all of us a pleasant surprise after months of cold tile floors. Morocco and the U.S. have been buds since way back - and in the legation there's a framed letter asking the Moroccan government to fly their flags at half-mast after Lincoln's assassination. After poking around we hung out with the curator in the gazebo on top of the building and drank Coca Cola, in true American style.

We booked out of Tangier the next day to see Chefchaouen, a very cute, blue, and rainy mountain town. The drive was rather long, so I got a good look at the landscape, which is striking both in beautiful and depressing ways - gorgeous mountains, but cement buildings and trash everywhere. Everything is sort of cobbled together and half finished. You also see sheep grazing next to restaurants, and donkeys tethered next to parked cars.

The last day was even more of a trip - mental and geographical - when we crossed over into Septa/Ceuta, a city that is technically part of Spain. The difference is unreal. The second you hit Septa everything screams European, and Money. Developed Nation. We wandered around a little bit stunned, paid for things in Euros (expensive!) and took a peek at Gibraltar, which was just barely visible from the waterfront.

Next!

Last weekend we had two days off for the Prophet's Birthday, and I went south with three other girls to see some famous waterfalls at Ouzoud, a day trip out of Marrakech. This involved a) a long train ride to Marrakech, and b) a taxi ride to a tiny town close to the falls. The train was standard, but we didn't get ourselves a grand taxi until it was getting dark. Why? We stopped to eat, poke around the souk, make friends with the monkeys on Jama'a al-Fna... which for Laura meant an ape climbing in her hair, for me it meant getting peed on. And the handlers still expected money from me. Oh well. How many people can say they've had that happen to them?

So picture four girls crammed into the backseat of a twenty year old Mercedes, careening along in the dark up into the mountains, with a driver who passes every vehicle he can by going in and out of oncoming traffic. Weely weely weely. The next day we stumbled through ordering breakfast in darija - we had made it far enough into the countryside that French had evaporated - and bargained for a grand taxi to the falls. More careening along mountain roads, this time in daylight.

The falls, suffice it to say, are gorgeous. And there are wild monkeys there, who don't freak out in your personal space! Picture worth a thousand words, I think:After the falls it was a long bus ride back to Marrakech, and an even longer train trip home. Next time we will engineer a trip that is a little more resting and a little less getting around.

We're coming up on midterms back in Rabat, but the weather is just getting nice, so here's to studying en plein air as much as possible!