Morocco
A list of adjectives a mile long comes to mind when I think about Morocco. I expected to be challenged, inspired, and disabused. The country did not disappoint. Evan and I left the United States thrilled to be leaving the mess that has been our final semester. Having received our first assignments two days before, we were ready to experience something outside of New England, even for just a little while.
First, let’s discuss the illusions of Morocco that many Americans have of the country, and how they are simply wrong. Most, if not all people, I told about Morocco said something to the effect of “come back with your head on shoulders.” Contrast that with friends going to places like Iceland or Spain which received encouragement, and nothing about being killed. I spent a lot of time reading travel advisories and blogs trying to understand if we were putting ourselves into danger. The more I researched, the more annoyed I became with who we are as Americans. Let’s be real, the fears displayed in those comments are founded in the ignorant perception that anything different from what Americans know as “normal” should be scary. Yes, Morocco is a Muslim country, and yes there could be people there who wish ill-will toward westerners, but I would wager that I have more enemies in the United States than I do in Morocco. Truly, I was never concerned about our safety. The people of Morocco, just like any Muslim-American I have ever met, were impossibly warm, and kind to the two dumb-uninformed-western-military-age-males wondering through their home. Without fail, when we met someone new, their first question was “how are you enjoying Morocco?” I was more concerned going through the NYC Subway the night we returned than I ever was in Morocco.
We enjoyed Morocco so much. The entire experience was polarized by sensory overload and moments of stillness. Walking the Medina of Marrakech was characterized by swerving motor scooters, and eager salesmen. But then we would slip into a café for tea and the chaos outside was cut away by the cigarette smoke rising lazily from ashtrays while men sat and contemplated the scene. Or navigating up half-lane mountain roads that have scooters, donkeys, and lorries speeding around every curve on any side of the road. Only to be greeted by massive snow-capped mountains glowing in the light of the setting sun.
Of course, we went to Morocco to be in the mountains. The Atlas Mountains are home to Jebel Toubkal, which at 13,671 feet, is the highest point in Northern Africa. It is by no means a technical ascent, but it was a grand adventure. I will have that part of the story written up soon but there was a little extortion, a lot of elevation gain, and one newly famous mountain guide involved.
