OK, OK. Gather round kiddies, I'm going to tell you a story. Are you sitting comfortably? Good.
Well, our send-off was, uh, interesting. Toasted and Ragman (our Boys) took us to the airport and, as planned, dropped us at the door. As we were entering the terminal, Ragman squeals the tires of MY car and Toasted yells, "Woo hoo!! They're gone!!" I have no idea where they get that kind of stuff.
So anyway, we boarded a plane that took us from the Greater Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport to JFK and then we transferred to a Royal Air Maroc flight (1 1/2 steps above a chicken and goat flight) that took us first to Casablanca and then to Marrakech.
The country was beautiful, akin to parts of New Mexico, but with red soil. The High Atlas mountains towered in the distance, and snow was beginning to accumulate on the higher peaks. I didn't realize that the Atlas' peaks were almost as high as the Rockies, but in a smaller range. Orchards of orange and olive trees dominated the landscape in the irrigated areas.
Our first day was a day of decompression after the flight. We went for a walk and tried not to fall asleep. I marvelled at the Cartoon Channel in French....it was a revelation that Fred Flintstone actually bellows "Yaba d'aba dieux!" Two observations we made that day that held up throughout our trip was that there were very few bugs (just some annoying houseflies) and, other than cranes wintering from Germany, no colorful birds.
The souk (an alleyway type of marketplace) was just like the ones that are stereotyped in the movies. Other than the presence of Coca-Cola and bottled water at some of the stalls, and one or two electronics, I doubt that much has changed in the last few centuries. The people all wanted us to examine their superior and unique wares, even though what they were selling was identical to what the guy next door was selling. It was crowded, noisy and bustling, but remarkably, it was totally odor-free and there was absolutely no litter...a little dirty, fairly dusty, but not a bit of garbage anywhere.
We spent one full day on a trip into the mountains to the Ourika Valley where we became more familiar with the Berbers and their way of life. The Berbers are distinguished from the Arabs physically by their much shorter stature and lighter skin. The finer cultural differences between the two were lost on us. The Arabs seem to regard the Berbers as hillbillies, but the Berbers are quite proud of their heritage.
We spent another day travelling to the seaside town of Essaouira. It is the largest fishing port in the country and they haul in a lot of sardines there. This caused Manx to become quite enamored of the place as she comes from an island specializing in kippers. It also used to be a hippie hangout in the early 70s. Jimi Hendrix and Cat Stevens (now Yusif Islam) hung out there a lot. On our trip there, we saw many herds of sheep, goats and camels in the areas outside of an oasis or two. The desolation of the desert was amazing...until you've been there, it's tough to imagine how harsh it is (and we just drove through it, can't imagine living there).
We were surprised to find that Morocco had, until very recently, a substantial Jewish population. Most from Marrakech left around the time of Israel's birth (1949-51) and those from Essaouira - nearly 30% of the city's population - emigrated in 1967.
But our abiding memory will be the people. The mix of Arab, Berber and Jew has made a very tolerant society, but it also one that is very much at peace with itself. The people were all very friendly and accomodating. People would hear us talking in English and would ask us how we liked their city or country. When we told them that we really enjoyed being there, they all seemed to beam with pride. And for a whole week we were mingling with the natives, but we never ever heard a voice raised in anger or frustration. Yes, the people were very special and made this a trip worth repeating.