Madness, Magic, Morocco!

August 13-18

To get anywhere in Morocco takes time. Because I think I am Cleopatra Jones, I turned a 36 hour journey into a 24 hour journey. Not a good idea. It's a head trip. In one day I rode three trains and a five hour ferry, but I made it to Africa!

I arrived in Fes at three in the morning. It was pitch black country dark outside. The taxi couldn't drive to the hotel I knew of because the street was too narrow. Next thing you know a man walks out of the darkness and the taxi driver tells me to go with him. He will walk me to the hotel. Now I know this sounds strange, but because I have been to Africa before I knew this was quite common. Locals work as impromptu guides for a couple of coins. We get to the hotel and are told there are no rooms available. The guide tells me he knows another place I can stay. At this point I have no choice because everything is closed and it won't be light outside for a few hours. Man 2 walks out of the darkness and asks if I know man 1? He then tells me he is going to come with me to make sure Man 1 takes me somewhere safe. Hmmmmmm.

After walking through a maze of narrow streets (Fes has over 9,000 streets) we arrive at a big doorway. After a few knocks a young woman opens the door. Man2 tells me this is the home a good family, he knows them and walks me inside. To my amazement I walk into a large four story elaborately decorated Berber home. Kaleidoscope tiled floors and walls, hanging plants, gilded balconies, and oversized pillows and ottomans. The entire family is awake and watching Egyptian movies. They welcome me in and serve me fresh mint tea. Man 2 introduces himself as Giladji and explains that Berbers are the original people of the Moroccan desert.

From that point on Giladji became my Moroccan point man. Over the next few days I lived with a Berber family, and gained access to all the places tourists don't usually go. Berber pool parties with palm trees, DJ's, and young Moroccan women wearing super string bikinis with henna tattoos belly dancing to Sean Paul, tannery houses, weaving factories, excavation sites, homeopathy shops, Berber discos and a Koranic school. Together we wove in and out of Fes' archways and stone passages. Along these passages you will usually run into a donkey carrying loads of merchandise. Donkeys always have the right of way. If you don't think so, just stand in front of one trying to pass by…..

The mother of the house cooked three meals a day. Breakfast included the ever present mint tea which consists of freshly brewed mint leaves poured into a glass containing whole mint leaves and sugar. The tea was accompanied by fresh roti style bread, sweet rolls with sauce, eggs, and juice. Dinner was a huge communal platter of Couscous with almonds, raisins, steamed vegetables, meatballs, couscous, and broth. It was sooooooo gooooood.

Ladies First: On the first day of arrival I immediately covered myself from head to toe. Giladji asked 'Why are you wearing trousers?' 'Because I have to cover up!' 'No. Take those off'. To my pleasant surprise women in Fez are quite contemporary in their dress and attitudes. There is no conflict between the modern, traditional, or fundamental. I saw mothers in head wraps and kaftans walking with their mini skirt clad daughters. And believe me, even the covered women were giving fashion with their high heels, jewelry and eye make up. The head wraps are deceiving because underneath the women have elaborate hair styles. Women treat the head wraps like jackets: to go outdoors they put it on, but once indoors they take it off.

Ok, now the really good stuff………
The day before I left I went to the Hammam which is a local bath house. The hammam is basically a social institution for women to scrub, steam, bathe, and talk. I walked in and was asked if I wanted a massage. The mosaic tiled space contains several rooms of different water temperatures covered by a dome roof with shafts of light beaming through. Once I walked in I knew I was in for something special. The women present ranged from pre-school to grandmothers to pregnant women. All of the women strip down to their underwear, grab huge buckets of water and begin to steam and scrub. The hammam is very communal…… I saw daughters scrubbing their mother's backs, friends lifting up each others breast to clean underneath, and other stuff I can't write about on this blog!

Once I steamed up, Big Mama Massager came over with the buckets for my scrub. What happened next was unbelievable…….. Big Mamma Massager began by washing my hair and pouring huge buckets of hot water over my head to rinse out the shampoo. She then put on a loofa glove, grabbed some black soap and scrubbed me DOWN. Literally. She made me lie face down on the marble floor and scrubbed me from my neck down to my toes. Flipped me over and did the front side too. All of this was accompanied by more buckets of hot water being poured over me. After the scrub, she got her rub on. Big Mamma massaged me from head to toe, front to back. This was not a posh massage, she was serious! Just to make sure everything was clean she pulled open my panties and poured a huge bucket of hot water down there! I was clean. REAL CLEAN! I don't think I've been bathed like that since I was five! Did I mention all of this was done in front of sixty naked women? What on earth could possibly top that experience?

Right after the hammam I had an appointment to get hennah. I've always wanted to get my hands and feet decorated with hennah, and now was my chance. A few Berber women came to the house and proceeded to mix the hennah dye. The woman slowly began to apply an intricate design all over my fingers and both sides of my hands. As the dye was drying she began to decorate my legs for good luck. During this time the women were talking and eating dates with walnuts. Because the hennah was drying on my hands I could not eat. So what happened next? The women began to stuff the figs with walnuts and say 'open'. For the next hour I had women hand feeding me sweets while I was covered in hennah! Life is good! I know plenty of men who would pay gooood money to lie around in a bath house full of naked women and be hand feed sweets!

Finally, I had to leave Fes. Trying to get out of Morocco and the south of Spain was madness!
I'll make a really long story short. My bus was three hours late, the windows were sealed shut and the A/C didn't work during the SEVEN hour ride, I missed all my connecting trains and ferries. In Spain, I had to stay overnight in a scary hotel where the manager gave me a room with no door knob, (I stuffed the hole so he couldn't peep on me), and every time he saw me he said 'Ooooooooh-sah' (U.S.A) and winked.The next day I missed all my connecting trains and ferries AGAIN, because all the clocks in the train station were covered with tape for some bizarre reason, and I forgot there is a one hour time difference between Morocco and Spain %&@! Did I mention the trains only run once a day? &^$@%!
Finally, finally, finally I got out of there.

Next stop: Paris