Ramble in Morocco (Travel blog vol. 2)

My most recent vagabond travel undertaking was an independent and somewhat haphazard voyage across the strait to Africa. A group of 2 boys and 3 girls, none speaking the national languages of French and Arabic, we nonetheless set off for Morocco with no hotel reservations, guides, maps, or concrete plans. We had a 5 day weekend, 4 cities in mind, and a lot of faith in the mantra that fate favors those who trust it. From the port city of Algeciras, we ferried over the Mediterranean to our first destination, the morning sun-washed city of Tangier. A cultural, artistic, and geographical crossroads, Tangier greeted us with the bustle and clamor of its port and the resident hangers-on. Once deeper into the city, however, we discovered the quiet beauty of the city with the help of an unofficial guide named Mustafa. He led us through the ancient winding streets of the hilltop medina and Casbah, or castle complex, where such mystical historical figures as Marlon Brando, Jimi Hendrix, and Bon Jovi have lived. Already pleasantly surprised by our relative good fortune thus far, we began the next stage of our journey in the company of new friends.

Thanks to the travel networking site CouchSurfing, we met up with 2 Moroccans who hosted us in their small coastal town of Assilah. In addition to a free place to stay, they also offered us a local’s view of the city, complete with conversations about Islamic culture and Arab youth as well as a tour of the seaside medina. Later, we had the unforgettable experience of riding on a flat 2-wheeled horse-drawn cart along busy highways and across rolling fields to a beautiful secluded beach (Paradise beach, in fact) set among high coastal bluffs. That night, we had the unique and incredible opportunity to go to a traditional Arab bath house located behind an unmarked dour at the end of a dark alley in the medina. The baths consisted of a dressing room, warm buffer room, and a completely tiled steam room where we washed ourselves with buckets of hot water from a continuously refilling reservoir. Morocco was surprisingly cold, especially at night, and the deep warmth of 2 ½ hours in a steam room was a welcome change.

Most excitingly, we had the chance to receive a traditional Hamman massage from the best masseuse in town. The wiry middle-aged Moroccan joined us in the steam room and proceeded to blow our minds with his strength and endurance as he conducted intense full body massages for 7 people in a row. The massage itself was much more than a backrub, and involved yoga-like stretch positions, synchronized inversions, and insane twists and lifts. The masseuse used his body as a tool for opening up our joints and muscles, and the heat, echoing noise, and rhythmic breathing made me lose all sense of relative time or space or position during the intense 15 minutes that I was under his control. The refreshing clean and physical vitality that I felt afterwards stayed with me for days.

From Assilah, we took a train to the bigger city of Fez, overcoming language barriers and transportation setback along the way. With less than 24 hours in the most important city in Morocco (culturally and historically speaking), we made the most of our time. We stayed in a hostel in the heart of the medina, and got a tour from a couple of American Fulbright scholars staying in Fez. They showed us the crowded main streets, winding alleys, markets and mosques of the medina, as well as the un-touristed residential neighborhoods that they had explored. Fez’s medina is the largest intact medieval Arab city, as well as the epicenter of Islamic philosophy and religion for much of its history. The hum of life there, of people and commerce and spirituality, was intoxicating and overwhelming, packed as it was into Fez’s warren of narrow streets and covered alleys.

Our last destination was the small mountain town of Chefchaouen, where we had barely 18 hours to enjoy one of the most beautiful towns I have ever seen. Built against the side of a mountain and on the edge of a wilderness preserve, Chaouen’s steep streets led to wall after wall of every shade of blue, with blue doors set in them. Known as the “blue city,” Chaouen’s mosaic of whitewashed and painted streets, alleys, and doorsteps made for a mystical ambiance, somewhere between a traditional pueblo blanco of Andalucia and the extraterrestrial feel of rounded buildings and streets that seemed carved out of the mountain. While our haphazard itinerary actually worked out, and we visited all the towns we aimed for and even made (barely) our ferry on time, I seriously regret that we had so little time in this town.

So, 4 nights and 5 days of vagabond travel in Morocco came to an end with a strange blend of satisfaction with the wonders of the experience, gratitude for our good fortune, physical fatigue from the intensity of the trip, and an aching wish that the amazing trip did not have to end. The beauty of the landscape and cities of Morocco amazed me, as it did when I went there with a tour group in the past. The deepest impression, however, was left by the Moroccan people. Their generosity, positivity, and openness, contrary to their common reputation in Europe, repeatedly moved me. Their devotion, to God and Islam and family and health and traditions, was readily apparent. Their patience, too, with poverty and hardship and each other, was a marked contrast to American attitudes. Finally, the single quality that I admired the most and wish was not so alien to Western culture: humility, before people and life and God. It is often preached, and rarely practiced, but I saw it in the faces and actions and words of the Moroccans I encountered, and it refreshed and inspired me. I consider myself incredibly lucky to be able to have such an experience, to be blessed with such luck and good times, but the return to normal life only makes such journeys seem even more surreal.

The Travel Blog (vol. 1)

My blog promises, in addition to my rambling opinion writing, some accounts of the travel I undertake while I am here. So, I present the following...

One of the perks of my job is the time commitment. Not only is the program a manageable 8 months, but the hours are light and all contained in a four day work week. So, I go to school Monday through Thursday, teaching until 2 each day and tutoring later in the afternoon to fill time and make money for travel. Coincidentally, free Fridays make every weekend a long one, a potential foundation for a trip of some moderate variety. Many of these weekend trips are regional jaunts to some Andalucían city or other. If you were to pinpoint my location on a map (Motril, Spain), you would notice several things about its geographical situation, including: 1. It is on the Mediterranean Sea (which I can see from my balcony and bedroom window) and 2. It is situated at the base of the Sierra Nevada range, which contains continental Spain’s highest mountain (in the course of an afternoon jog, I can look down on the sunny Mediterranean and a few strides later look up at snow-capped peaks).

In addition to its interesting physical geography, Motril is also well-situated relative to other cities. The closest, and the capital of the province, is Granada. I’ve visited Granada a handful of times, for single days as well as whole weekends, and have really enjoyed the contrast of its international cosmopolitan feel with Motril’s small-town ambiance. Granada has one of Spain’s biggest and oldest universities, with a huge student presence and youthful energy to match. The city’s cultural significance, as the last Moorish stronghold in Spain and the home of the famed Alhambra, combines with its physical beauty to make it a highly-touristed place as well as a haven for Spain’s counterculture. Simultaneously Bohemian, hippy, and traditional, Granada is a melting pot of historical and contemporary cultures, and a fascinating place to have only an hour to the north. My other frequented destination is the port city of Malaga, the southern coast’s biggest. My girlfriend Jasmina lives there, teaching, which is reason enough to visit, but the city also has some appeal in and of itself. Thoroughly modern, Malaga is one of the tourism and fashion capitals of Spain. The hometown of Picasso, Malaga now boasts its own Picasso museum, the centerpiece of a robust arts and cultural scene. Other destinations in Andalucia have included a school field trip to the Sierra Nevada and a day trip to the British enclave and rock of Gibraltar (full of monkeys, see pictures for a thousand words).

There have also been more ambitious travels. The first, in early October, was a 5 day jaunt to Portugal. Taking advantage of an especially long weekend, I rented a car and drove across the Peninsula with some friends, enjoying the Iberian countryside and the nice roads as we zipped along. Our first stop was the beach town of Lagos, on Portugal’s southern coast, home to the cliff-backed beaches, grottoes, and bluffs that characterize the Algarve region. We even made it to the town of Sagres, perched on the Southwestern-most tip of the European continent, and once thought to be the end of the world. Continuing our four-wheeled adventure, I drove up the coast to Lisbon, where we navigated through what was easily the most challenging traffic and streets I have ever encountered (imagine New York City drivers in European streets). But we were able to enjoy the magic of the Portuguese capital, the most underrated in Europe. Colored stone buildings and cobble-stoned streets, combined with trolley cars climbing hills that look out over the broad Tajo River, made Lisbon feel like a cross between San Francisco and Madrid. Getting by on a mix of our Spanish and the limited Portuguese of our Africa-bound visitor Andrew Magill, we were able to deeply and fully enjoy the charming beauty and excitement of Spain’s closest neighbor.

Coming very soon... Morocco

Youth and Apathy in these modern times

Every generation changes the face of its society. Even so, the worldwide youth of today seem to be breaking with their respective traditions. This is as true in Spain as anywhere else. The two socio-political worldviews I laid out in the last post, socially conscious romanticism versus traditional conservatism, are both under siege from arguably the most potent mindset of them all: apathy. I say potent because apathy has the power of prevention, the power to preclude other mindsets or opinions by preemptively rendering them uncool, pointless, unworthy of attention.

Apathy, of course, is generally a reaction and not a state of equilibrium. Nothing exists in a vacuum, and a vacuum would be necessary for apathy to exist of its own volition. Rather, apathy comes about through a combination of disillusionment and overstimulation. The disillusionment, almost always, is with politics, the economic status quo, the established social and cultural traditions, or some other vestige of the “system.” Unfortunately, however, those who choose to show their dissatisfaction with any status quo by pretending to ignore it are merely feeding back into the cycle that they vainly distance themselves from. I can think of no historical example of a situation where widespread apathy was a primary cause of improvement.

Yet this is, in many ways, our generation’s defining struggle. We exist in something of a dichotomy, where our overexposure to politics either motivates us to form and advocate opinions or makes us shrug our shoulders in disgust. Simultaneously, the rampant overstimulation of today’s Western youth camouflages a choice between access (to information, to other people and ideas, to causes and organizations and cultures) and mere entertainment. And, once again, it is all too easy to choose entertainment, to slip smoothly into a cycle of stimuli that never produce a substantial or original reaction. So, I would argue, apathy is not self-sustaining phenomenon, but rather a product of individual and group reactions to an existing system.

In this sense, Spanish youth have caught on fast. Only 30 years into democratic politics, they are already tired of politicians. The parties are the basically the same, all the good parties are outlawed, none of it affects us anyways… the responses are the same in Spain as in the U.S. And those are from the people who even feel the need to explain why politics doesn’t interest them. The real “silent majority” are the people who absorb political news and world events the same way they absorb music, never really processing it or incorporating it into their lifestyle, opinions, or actions.

Despite this negative social commentary, there is something to be said for what the youth –apathetic or otherwise- does best: having fun. And, in the pursuit of fun (in the general sense), young people have a knack for breaking existing social barriers. So it is that everyday humor, whether crude or enlightened, can mask insightful social commentary or reveal actual cultural transformation. In the United States, humor belittling oneself, one’s country, or anything in between has long been the mainstream. In Spain, young people have a similarly iconoclastic irreverence for traditional aspects of Spanish identity or culture. Part of this is the result of the cosmopolitan cultural modernism that pervades Europe today, but part is simple self-deprecating humor on the part of young Spaniards.

Machismo, a very real part of Spain’s (and the rest of the Latin world’s) traditional character, is the target of humor as well as social policy initiatives (to be discussed in another post). The phrase “Macho Iberico,” is traditionally reserved for the toughest and manliest of Spanish men: the bullfighters, the futbolistas, the power brokers. Now, it is jokingly used to compliment a well-executed pour out of a wineskin (proffered by a friendly bartender), held at arm’s length to allow the trajectory of sweet and strong vino fino to arc through the crowded tapas bar and fill the pourer’s mouth without spilling a drop, to shouts of approval. If you guessed that this description is autobiographical and that I am a natural with a wineskin, you were correct (they asked me if I learned it from reading Hemingway). The ironic label of “macho iberico” also comes up in discussions of chest hair amongst twenty-somethings and comparisons of sandwich size between school children, among other situations.

As with any country’s generation of young people, Spanish youth have a façade of coolness, complete with loud music, motos and fast cars, name brand clothing, drugs and alcohol. And, as is true anywhere else, the combination of coolness and apathy can be downright toxic if it becomes the dominant norm for a country’s young people. Also prevalent among my Spanish peers, however, along with the humor, the fun, and the coolness façade, is a strong movement towards higher education, multilingualism, personalized careers, and internationalism. This highly motivated side of this generation here, inevitably, competes and contrasts with the apathy discussed above. It remains to be seen, therefore, what the outcome and impact of today’s Spanish youth will be. In the meantime, they are busy just living.

The paradox of Spanish Society: a Brief History

Spanish society is something of a paradox, a product of contrasting and sometimes conflicting tendencies and currents. Spain’s history, in the long term, is one of alternating religious toleration and confrontation between Christian and Moorish cultures. In the modern era, Spain’s history is usually described using words like “hierarchical,” “traditional,” “conservative,” and even “repressive.” And this, indeed, is the legacy of Spanish colonialism in Latin America, an era remembered for its political oppression, social hierarchy, labor exploitation, and indigenous subjugation. Most devotees of Latin American politics or history would begin –and end– any discussion of contemporary social or political issues by connecting the region’s cyclical history –of racial exclusion, social upheaval, political instability, and socioeconomic inequality– back to its roots in Spanish colonialism. And while Latin American society and politics today are acquiring an increasingly indigenous –or at least American (in the continental sense, not related to the good ole USofA)– identity, the themes of religious influence, social hierarchy, and political authoritarianism are still strongly rooted in the Spanish tradition.

Spain itself spent most of the 20th century under the authoritarian Franco regime, following the political polarization and subsequent civil war of the 1930s. Franquismo (Franco-ism), the social and political doctrine of the general and dictator, envisioned and enforced a Spanish society that was Catholic, socially conservative, culturally traditional, and politically hostile to the threats of modernity. That modernity, however, was inevitable for Spain, a country that has always been at the geographical crossroads and socio-political mainstream of contemporary Western history.

When Franco died in 1975, the current King Juan Carlos, Franco’s protégé at the time, came into power. In one of the most remarkable transformations of the modern political era, Juan Carlos chose a path of political openness and fully democratic elections were held within 3 years. Spain quickly joined the ranks of Western Europe’s capitalist democracies, though the scars of the Franco years are slow to heal. In large part due to Juan Carlos’ reconciliatory, forward-looking approach, the Spanish government has only recently sponsored historical truth commissions and opened investigations into human rights violations and political crimes committed under the Franco regime. Franco still represents, for much of Spain, the traditional nationalism and the conservative Catholic family values that have always been central to Spanish society and identity. In more ways than one, Spain’s history is still very much alive in its present, more so than in the rest of Western Europe (in my humble opinion).

So, while Spain’s historical character has often been dominated by its traditional conservatism, there has also emerged an increasingly prominent array of progressive social currents. Spain, like Latin America, has two diametrically opposed socio-political worldviews. One is the traditional –often reactionary- conservatism described above, which has long sustained the legitimacy of the monarchy and the influence of the Church, as well as the family-based social model, but which is also responsible for traditional social hierarchy and authoritarian political repression.

The other is a unique combination of emotive romanticism and leftist social theory, resulting in a sort of romantic socialism that seeks (among other things) equality between men, political betterment, and social harmony. This fundamentally optimistic worldview –a genuine and popularly held belief that individual actions can improve humanity (leaving for later a discussion of similar thinking in the US)– has spawned Latin America’s countless revolutionary movements, inspires several current regional leaders (see: Morales in Bolivia), and has always been the “push” to Latin traditionalism’s “pull”. In 1930s Spain, an elected government actually formed a legitimately democratic Communist republic, only to have the pendulum swing back right with the civil war and the Franco years.

In today’s Spain, progressive currents are again the mainstream, from government spending on education and social initiatives (to be discussed later) to a thoroughly modern youth culture and nightlife (definitely to be discussed). Please pardon the social science-y historical overview, I hope this entry will provide worthwhile background for a more personal discussion of life in Spain in future posts.

Some kind of start on "the road of life"

Just over a month into my time here in Spain, I am still deciding on what direction to go with this much-delayed blog. I want friends and family to be able to keep up with my life here to some extent, but I would like these posts to contain more than just personal updates. At the same time, I lack a coherent project or subject to follow and report on, such as the domestic political situation in Bolivia when I was researching there last summer. So, I will begin this blog from the standpoint of a recently graduated college student who, after falling just short of two other jobs in the U.S., shipped himself off to Spain to teach English for a year.

The “year” is actually an 8 month school year, October-May, as part of the Spanish government’s bilingual education program. My title is "Auxiliar de conversacion," or "Foreign Language and Cultural Assistant," and my employer is the Junta de Andalucia. I teach in a public primary school in the small coastal city of Motril, Granada province, in Andalucia. The school’s bilingual program is relatively well-developed, with most teachers speaking some basic English and science classes taught in Spanish and English, in addition to English language classes. The school even has a blog, where parents can read about class field trips or find class activities when their kids are out of school sick. It strikes me as a good and sensible tool for connecting parents to schools, one that U.S. educators and administrators would do well to learn from (especially considering the relative ease of access to internet for most American families, compared to Spain).

I teach grade levels 4, 5, and 6, which here means students from 7 to 10 years old. I’m lucky to have this age group, as they are perfectly situated between the crazy energy of young kids and the insecure coolness of pre-teens, young enough to be enthusiastic about learning but old enough to actually have (some) attention for it. And not a class goes by that doesn’t make me laugh out loud. My time in class is evenly split between English language, taught mostly with the same teacher, and Natural Science (or “knowledge of the medium/surroundings”, directly translated), a bilingual subject for which each lesson is taught in Spanish by another teacher and then in English by yours truly. Overall, relative to other auxiliaries (‘auxiliar’ is the official job title), I am fortunate in the amount of structure I have at my school, while still maintaining a fair amount of autonomy and independent planning and teaching.

I am also fortunate, considering the numerous horror stories regarding Spanish bureaucracy and late payments, to have received my first monthly salary. Which is to say, I have euros in the bank. It is a great feeling to be financially viable here, to be earning my keep, paying my way, making money and not just spending it, actually living and working in another country. While I won scholarships, took out loans, and worked a part time job to pay for rent and tuition at college, and could claim more self-sufficiency than most, what I feel here is something far beyond that. This current phase of living entails an entirely different level of self-sufficiency and independence, a life and the means for that life completely separate from any support structure, financial or otherwise, outside of what I create and/or carry with me.

I guess this is my version of the so-called ‘real world’ experience, that first job and living situation after college that is so dramatized in the minds of students. The interesting thing is that, while the responsibilities of a post-college life are more legitimate and serious in society’s eyes, they are not necessarily more burdensome or stressful. In fact, based on anecdotes and general impressions, I would venture that the stresses of a working graduate, while defined as more ‘real world’, are actually less intense and ubiquitous than in the daily life of an overextended college student. Concerns about the future -and of course the demands of rent, bills, and budgeting expenses- are still present, but they are generally more sensible and manageable than those of the everything-all-the-time mindset and lifestyle of college.

Perhaps most importantly, a job-holding graduate’s concerns lack the constant underlying doubts about individual purpose, the importance of ideas, personal independence, and the worthwhile-ness of the college experience in general. There is something grounding and legitimizing about having a clear day-to-day purpose, doing a job that is needed, and getting paid for it. It is basic, and simple, and refreshing after the big doubts and questions of college inherent in that mixing of pure fun, big ideas, constant work, moderate responsibilities, and individualism. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my college experience for anything. And I also don’t consider my current job to be the most serious or invested job out there. I do, however, consider myself lucky to have any job at all in this dismal economic scene, especially a job so perfectly tailored to the interests and outlook of a recent college grad. And while this particular job is a far cry from a conventional career, there are still things about working and living independently (whether in Spain, the US, or anywhere else) that make college seem a world away.