Finishing up Morocco

Greetings from the open sea!


We are back at sea, off to Ghana, had class yesterday and again today, and again for the next five days, yippee! So, back to where I left off from:


Zagora. We finally made it around seven, eight at night. Our crazy teacher who led our expedition (we had to be on the bus exactly at the time she said, otherwise she would leave us, seriously, we almost left one person who was in the bathroom) got our tour guide, Idris, to take us to the Saharan dunes. We got to see the sunset over the dunes, play on the dunes, and take pictures. The sand is soft, soooooo soft. When you step into it you sink about a foot. Our bus, bus numero dos, got to places first, everywhere, the places we ate for lunch on the drive up and back, the dunes, the nomad camp, and back to Casablanca, I say this because as we were leaving the sand dunes, bus numero uno drove in, they did not get to see the sunset or anything. After leaving the dunes, we headed to the nomad camp for the night. Upon waling into the camp, the nomad were standing singing, welcoming us into their village, or campsite. The group I was hanging out with: Ellie, Kevin, Chrissy, Matt, and Cookie (it is her nickname), we all chose our tents to sleep in for the night then headed out into the communal area where the nomads had stopped singing and were now sitting. I got stop mint tea from a little stand they had propped up, free of charge, and went to sit next to the nomads. Ten minutes after sitting and socializing with others that I had met on the bus ride over and the group I was kind of with, the nomads started singing again. It was unreal. I had never heard or experienced their type of music or singing. There was one among the nomads that seemed like he was having the time of his life. When the music started picking up a faster beat, he would make strange noises, indescribable on the blog, and nothing that I have heard before. He would walk around as well and pick up girls and bring them up to dance with him. The nomads stopped abruptly since bus numero uno finally arrived and they wanted to sing the welcome song for them as well. After everyone had arrived, a big number of us sat right in front of the nomads, listening to, what I am guessing, was a pretext they sang before every song. This pretext consisted of four of the men, two singing and then the other two answering back to the first two. The two guys with drums then started up another fast beat and then the group of about nine men and two women began singing enthusiastically again. One of women would turn her tongue sideways and do the famous yell among the nomad people. Then the other woman, started dancing towards us, and picked up everyone and, I do not know if you have seen it, but in Prince of Egypt, the cartoon about Moses from some years ago, there is a scene where they all start dancing in circles, holding hands, and just go around and around in circles until the song stopped. Well, that is exactly what I got to do with everyone. It was an unreal experience. The entire time within the camp I kept pinching myself to make sure I was not dreaming or anything of the sort, After dancing, we went into the communal tent, the largest one of the entire premises and ate another amazing dinner. I met some new people after deciding I was going to sit at a different table that the group I was already friends with. What I like about SAS is how friendly we, the students, are with ourselves. I can go up to anybody and introduce myself, and immediately continue a conversation for a long period of time, possibly even make new friends. Since we all came on this to travel and experience the local cultures that we are visiting, (although there are some who, when we are in port, do not want to do anything but drink, and find clubs, and say they have partied in countries around the world, but I say to that, why do what you can do EVERYDAY and ANYDAY in the states, and not do what you cannot do?) that we are all outgoing and willing to make new friends. Upon completion of dinner, a great number of us laid out outside under the stars, some brought their beds, others, like me, just laid on the rugs on top of the soft sand with just a pillow. Rashid, my tour guide came over to where I was and we began to talk about the Moroccan and Islamic culture. It was interesting to here what he thought about us, about how Islam works and how it applies to not just their religion, but also daily life and government. He also brought up the pastor in Florida, who was going to burn copies of the Koran, He said how, he personally and most of the people he knew, did not care about him burning the copies. To him, it is more important for him on the inside, for him to know and understand the Koran in his mind, than for some man to burn copies of the religious text. Koran, in Arabic, means to recite, so he was telling me that people memorize the Koran and that the book is just a medium for them to memorize it, it is just a book. There are other copies that people can read, but it was more important for him to know, and experience the Koran outside of just a book. The conversation I had with Rashid was enlightening. After our conversation, all of those who stayed out under the stars just stared up, and some of them had never seen so many stars before either. I explained how to find the north star, thanks to Boy Scouts and Astronomy 101. After hours just staring into the sky, I finally fell asleep and woke up the next day to the calls of roosters and camels barking at each other. We ate a great break, hard boiled eggs, bread, and honey. We then got onto the camels following breakfast. Let me tell you something before. Before getting on the camels we found out that we were only going to be on them for only an hour. All of us groaned and complained that we were on there for such a short amount of time. Once we got on, O-N-C-E we got on, we were ecstatic that it was only an hour. Camels are not comfortable. Especially if you are a guy. Especially if you sit on the hump. Especially if you have ridden a horse before. When a horse walks/runs, the leg in the front goes forward and the opposite leg in the back goes forward with it, creating a level area on the saddle when you, except when it runs because you are popping up and down. On the other hand, when a camel walks, when the front leg goes forward, the leg right behind it, NOT the opposite, goes forward as well, creating a rocking motion. This rocking motion, on top of a hump, creates a very uncomfortable ride. I became friendly with the man who guided us along the path, speaking French since people in Morocco speak mainly French and Arabic, and learned that my camel’s name is Toto (I do not think we’re in Kansas anymore Toto, HA!). I also learned that this is his livelihood, bringing tourists on camels, his camels. The five that he lead were owned by him, and most of the others are owned by the hotel in the region. Side note: I wore a camelbak on the back of a camel. Get it? Funny eh? Anyways, after the ride, we got off (I wore the pants, and I will attempt to get them to be worn in San Diego, and be cool about it.) and got back on the bus for another eight hour ride back to Marrakech. We get back into Marrakech around six in the afternoon, the rest of the day is to us. The group I was with decided to get some pizza, which was awesome, and then head to the market at night. The market at night, is a complete different atmosphere than the one during the day. Instead of snake charmers and men with monkeys, it is groups of men playing music, kids with carnival-esque games. All the stores are open.


I wanted to buy a flag, (I like to collect flags), and this guy tried to help me, he said “Stay right here I will be back in two minutes, wait.” As if it were rehearsed, there he was, with two flags, but gigantic ones. I said they were too big and thanks anyways. We began to walk away, and he comes running up to me with a smaller flag, a tiny itty bitty one. Again I said it was too small for what I was looking for, and he made me follow him to another shop. This time the guy showed a flag the right size, the problem this time was the star in the middle, (the Moroccan flag is red, with a five pointed star in the middle, and one of the tips facing upwards), was a little off center, but the star was not aligned correctly. I told him, and he got mad and shooed me away. You really think I was going to buy a flag that was not even the correct flag? Instead, I bought some Arabic music and a friend of mine bought a knock off Rolex. We walked back to the hotel and called it a night.


The next day, we headed back to Casablanca. Oh, I did not mention what happened the previous. When we were heading back from Zagora back to Marrakech, my stomach began to growl, not from not eating, but from something most travelers in other countries begin to fear. Yes you guessed it, Travelers Diarrhea. I held it, for over three hours. That has to be some type of world record for once I arrived in the hotel, HAAAAALELUJAH!!!! HAAAAALELUJAH!!!!! I gave the throne a new paint job. A friend of mine gave me ammodiom, it worked but it was as if there was just a cork in my butt, holding it in for later. Once I got back to ship though I took my medication and alls better, thanks for the concern everybody.
Now being back in Casablanca, I showered and passed out. The next day was our final day in Casablanca. A group of us, the regular group; Ellie, Kevin, Andy, Chrissy, and Katy (the girl whom I went to Sevilla and Ronda [which I will write about once I am done with Morocco]) went to the Hassan II Mosque, which is the third largest mosque in the world, second to one is Saudi Arabia, and third to the one in Mecca (for the one in Mecca HAS to be the largest one in the world). I have seen cathedrals in France, Spain, England, but the mosque in Casablanca had no comparison. It was wonderful. The inside was gorgeous. If you check my face book, the pictures are all on there, since I cannot send pictures on here while at sea. After visiting the mosque, I went back to ship, got my laptop, headed out to where free WiFi was, talked with my mother, and then left Casablanca at 2000. 1800 was On-Ship time, (On-Ship time is when EVERYONE has to be on the ship, if you late, every fifteen minutes you are late, you get dock timed an hour. Dock time is you just cannot get off the ship for the duration of your “dock-time.”) so I tried to get back by then.
Well, I have got class in ten minutes (it is 1405 here) so I will leave the rest of the Spain posts for a later time. Wish the best for anyone who is reading, and I will post the rest of Spain online in the next day or two.

Until my next post,


“I think wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow”
-Anita Desai