Sidebar: Our neighbor, Claudio, greeted us with, "I thought you had gone back to America. Are you going back?" as we drove up to our home from our 3 week giro, drive-around. We, of course, said no, we'd just been away and were back. "oh," he responded, "I was afraid not having electricity would send you home." NOT HAVING ELECTRICITY??? Not only were there floods and tempests and airport-closings and snow storms, there also is NO ELECTRICITY?? Our entire heating system (which is broken again) is electricity-based...it seems the storms took out our source, and we had no electricity for 4 days. We stayed in a hotel, thank you very much.
However, talking with Claudio immediately recalibrated everything--they raise free range chickens which are chicks...they have to heat 4 barns and keep 20,000 chickens warm and alive. If they lose the chickens they lose livelihood, if we lose electricity we have to spend a night in a hotel....this is not equal inconvenience. We're just bigger wussies.
Morocco: visiting Morocco profoundly impacted me; so what I'd like to do is touch on things in dribs and drabs as they come to me....
Marrakech is filthy. The Medina, or old city center, has streets that are no bigger than alleys, jammed with locals, tourists with maps and lost faces, bicycles, motorbikes, taxis, honking horns, and hawking vendors. (Think Tijuana on a hot summer day.) A sea of food, wares, sounds, smells, sights, humanity. And we stuck out...we couldn't blend in like we usually do...we obviously didn't belong there. And worse, all the media depictions of Arab men came back to haunt me as we tried to get home one evening after dinner and literally got lost in the labyrinth...it was dark, it was empty except for a few groups of men and boys, and we had no idea how to get back to the hotel--no idea, none--only those movie images to accompany our echoing footsteps. How horribly irresponsible for an entire industry to identify the villains as this ethnic group. And being media-savvy, how terribly irresponsible of me to allow the stereotypes to impact me; it's embarrassing.
The architecture is stunning...I couldn't see enough of it. The detail work, the hand-laid mosaics, the intricate carved Moorish trim, the archways, the bright colors. Every house has an open, center courtyard around which the rooms are laid out, 2, 3, 4 stories high, with a rooftop terrace from which you can see the city. In Fez, the riad, guest house, where we stayed, Dar El Menia, built (probably) in the 14th century, is beautifully renovated, and while on the rooftop, if you take a really big step, you would be on the rooftop terrace of the house next door. The houses are that close together.
The most interesting thing to me, however, is the juxtaposition of the entrance and the house. A nondescript door. On a dirty, narrow alleyway. Down dark stairs and around dark corners. Then the door opens and, viola!, gorgeous. Amin, a lunch acquaintance, explained this epitomizes the culture. One does not show off what they have; one keeps his/her wealth private so as not to embarrass his/her neighbors. This carries over to the daily shopping. If one has the means to buy something really special (and costly), it is put at the bottom of the shopping basket, covered by bread and produce, things all the neighbors can afford. This way one does not flaunt his/her wealth. It is being respectful of one another. I couldn't help but contrast the conspicuous Western consumers...myself included...who happily and loudly show off that new tv or car or house....if we were less financially promiscuous, would we be more humane toward one another?
The Vendors. Ahhh, we had the most difficult interactions with the Vendors. There are booth after booth after booth of goods...and tourists are obviously...tourists. These men, and they are all men, are dependent upon selling their goods for their livelihood. But they are aggressive, especially in Marrakech. They will grab you, and they did, they will pull you into their shop, and they did, they will follow you out the door and down the street, and they did. Once, two men grabbed Gary's arm and were pulling him in different directions...not cool. Also, you are expected to barter for everything; and, I understand there is a heirarchy by which they name the initial price. American, British, Canadian, French, German, Italian--so Americans are quoted the highest prices and bargain down from there, then the British, etc, etc. I'm not a big bargainer, tell me how much something is and either I'll pay it or I won't...however, by the end of a week, I was a very good bargainer!
As Westerners, we are polite. I don't like to ignore people or shun someone's initial contact. Most of us don't. In Fez, we were "adopted" by a guy on the street. One minute we're walking along, minding our own business, and the next he's herding us through the labyrinthian streets....I swear I have no idea how it happened. And then we were at the tanneries---really interesting---and then we were in a leather shop buying leather jackets. (They are lovely----see? conspicuous consumers.) He was in place, ready to take us to the next place when we were finished, then to a restaurant, then....he wanted a tip. We declined, in that he was in the employ of the leather shop AND the restaurant, we are sure he is getting his.
We had a very unpleasant exchange our last night in Fez...it was my "Humanity versus Integrity" moment. A vendor got very aggressive, ugly, sniveling---I believe in mutual respect and honesty and candor in dealing with everyone---but we were beaten down, trying to maintain our humanity, being polite, giving him the benefit of every doubt, but we folded...and later I was furious with myself for not maintaining my integrity. Saying no when we meant no....we felt abused. And I was pissed off...at the vendor and at myself...we left Fez anxious to get away.
I have to believe there is a very basic cultural directive that is antithetical to ours...get what you want regardless of the price. Is that antithetical? Or do just the methods vary? If/when I visit Morocco again, I need to put my head in a very different mind space, then, I'm sure I will be able to maintain my humanity and my integrity....ahhh, so many lessons.
Up Next: the wonderful people we met....(with pictures!) and the FOOD!
However, talking with Claudio immediately recalibrated everything--they raise free range chickens which are chicks...they have to heat 4 barns and keep 20,000 chickens warm and alive. If they lose the chickens they lose livelihood, if we lose electricity we have to spend a night in a hotel....this is not equal inconvenience. We're just bigger wussies.
Morocco: visiting Morocco profoundly impacted me; so what I'd like to do is touch on things in dribs and drabs as they come to me....
Marrakech is filthy. The Medina, or old city center, has streets that are no bigger than alleys, jammed with locals, tourists with maps and lost faces, bicycles, motorbikes, taxis, honking horns, and hawking vendors. (Think Tijuana on a hot summer day.) A sea of food, wares, sounds, smells, sights, humanity. And we stuck out...we couldn't blend in like we usually do...we obviously didn't belong there. And worse, all the media depictions of Arab men came back to haunt me as we tried to get home one evening after dinner and literally got lost in the labyrinth...it was dark, it was empty except for a few groups of men and boys, and we had no idea how to get back to the hotel--no idea, none--only those movie images to accompany our echoing footsteps. How horribly irresponsible for an entire industry to identify the villains as this ethnic group. And being media-savvy, how terribly irresponsible of me to allow the stereotypes to impact me; it's embarrassing.
The architecture is stunning...I couldn't see enough of it. The detail work, the hand-laid mosaics, the intricate carved Moorish trim, the archways, the bright colors. Every house has an open, center courtyard around which the rooms are laid out, 2, 3, 4 stories high, with a rooftop terrace from which you can see the city. In Fez, the riad, guest house, where we stayed, Dar El Menia, built (probably) in the 14th century, is beautifully renovated, and while on the rooftop, if you take a really big step, you would be on the rooftop terrace of the house next door. The houses are that close together.
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| Courtyard Dar Moulay Ali in Marrakech |
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| Courtyard Riad Kniza, Marrakech, where we took a cooking class! |
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| At one of the Gates of Fez |
The Vendors. Ahhh, we had the most difficult interactions with the Vendors. There are booth after booth after booth of goods...and tourists are obviously...tourists. These men, and they are all men, are dependent upon selling their goods for their livelihood. But they are aggressive, especially in Marrakech. They will grab you, and they did, they will pull you into their shop, and they did, they will follow you out the door and down the street, and they did. Once, two men grabbed Gary's arm and were pulling him in different directions...not cool. Also, you are expected to barter for everything; and, I understand there is a heirarchy by which they name the initial price. American, British, Canadian, French, German, Italian--so Americans are quoted the highest prices and bargain down from there, then the British, etc, etc. I'm not a big bargainer, tell me how much something is and either I'll pay it or I won't...however, by the end of a week, I was a very good bargainer!
As Westerners, we are polite. I don't like to ignore people or shun someone's initial contact. Most of us don't. In Fez, we were "adopted" by a guy on the street. One minute we're walking along, minding our own business, and the next he's herding us through the labyrinthian streets....I swear I have no idea how it happened. And then we were at the tanneries---really interesting---and then we were in a leather shop buying leather jackets. (They are lovely----see? conspicuous consumers.) He was in place, ready to take us to the next place when we were finished, then to a restaurant, then....he wanted a tip. We declined, in that he was in the employ of the leather shop AND the restaurant, we are sure he is getting his.
We had a very unpleasant exchange our last night in Fez...it was my "Humanity versus Integrity" moment. A vendor got very aggressive, ugly, sniveling---I believe in mutual respect and honesty and candor in dealing with everyone---but we were beaten down, trying to maintain our humanity, being polite, giving him the benefit of every doubt, but we folded...and later I was furious with myself for not maintaining my integrity. Saying no when we meant no....we felt abused. And I was pissed off...at the vendor and at myself...we left Fez anxious to get away.
I have to believe there is a very basic cultural directive that is antithetical to ours...get what you want regardless of the price. Is that antithetical? Or do just the methods vary? If/when I visit Morocco again, I need to put my head in a very different mind space, then, I'm sure I will be able to maintain my humanity and my integrity....ahhh, so many lessons.
Up Next: the wonderful people we met....(with pictures!) and the FOOD!
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