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.
Monday, December 14, 2009
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
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
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