Casablanca, Morocco

Arriving to Morocco lacked the novelty and excitement that our arrival to Spain had. Little did I know that was just the smallest of the differences between my time in Morocco, and the wonderful experience I had in Spain.

Between Spain and Morocco we had Morocco Day on the boat. Both sections of Global Studies met together for a guest lecture on gender relations in the Islamic world, and also touched on veiling. We also had logistical and cultural pre-port meetings, which touch on everything from what to eat to current risk of infectious diseases, dangers off the boat to areas of particular interest in the port area.

September 10:

The morning of our arrival in Casablanca, I was lucky to get first access off the boat, as a participant in the Casablanca City Orientation tour, leaving immediately. As we walked down the gangway into the humid, smoggy, overcast, smelly and rainy port, it was clear foreshadowing of how different this visit would be from warm, dry and clean Spain. My roommate Casey and I, and approximately 80 other SAS participants, spent the day on two busses touring Casablanca. Our coach bus, drove the mile from the ship to the port gates and we were off. First we drove to Place Mohammed V, a large plaza that serves as the center of Casablanca, familiarly referred to as Caza. Neighboring the plaza were one of eight city halls within Caza, a post office, the Moroccan equivalent of the IRS, the French Embassy, and a fire station. As soon as our bus pulled up, a group of strangely, but colorfully, dressed men approached us, encouraging us to ring one of their bells. Our tour guide has warned us of potential activities where Moroccans would insist we then owed them money. Our next stop was the Cathedral de Sacre Coeur, the only church open for religious practice in Casablanca, and possibly in Morocco. The religious breakdown of Morocco was 98.7% Muslim and the rest Christian and Jewish. The cathedral had absolutely beautiful stained glass windows, and, like the rest of Casablanca, gorgeous hibiscus flowers. The next building we visited was an old government building called Mahakma du Pacha, near the royal palace, or Palais Royal. This building had absolutely beautiful tile work, called zellij, and carved cedarwood ceilings. From there we walked two blocks to the palace, where we were graciously allowed to take pictures of the grandiose main entryway and the special entrance for women. From the Palace we visited the great Hassan II Mosque. Finished in 1993, the mosque has a retractable roof and electrically heated floors. We were given the last tour of the day, before noon prayer. We saw the enormous main prayer room, and the hammam, or wash rooms visited before each of the five times, located beneath the prayer room. The Hassan II Mosque holds 25,000 people and an additional 80,000 on the paved area surrounding the mosque. There are two areas suspended above the regular floor for the women mosque-goers to pray, separated from the men. The minaret of the mosque is over 200 meters tall, by far the tallest structure in Morocco, and the tallest minaret in the world. At night a green laser points towards Mecca, so all Muslims know which direction to face for their prayers. My guidebook told me that St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome could fit inside the Hassan II Mosque! The mosque is reported to have cost $750,000,000 USD. After the Mosque we drove past the beaches of Casablanca, but decided as a bus not to get off into the drizzly & humid weather.  Our last stop was at a set-price store and a market specializing in spices, seafood and produce. There I saw swordfish, an in-person slaughter of what I think was a cow, about 100 cats/kittens, and some turtles that were being sold “as pets”. Overall, I took a ridiculous amount of pictures that first day, which serves as a statement to how novel and different everything seemed. The store we visited gave us a good idea of what to look out for during the rest of our time in Morocco. After our tour was completed we returned to the boat, where I started the routine of washing the Caza off of me after every off-ship outing.

That evening I went out for drinks and dessert with a group of friends at Rick’s Café, famous from the movie Casablanca. This was perhaps a 20-minute walk from the port’s gates. A group of 12 or so of us went to enjoy what we assumed to be a restaurant likely to be open during Ramadan. The restaurant was very nice but the language barrier was evident, and the service was very different than in the US. Walking along the streets was fairly scary, even with a large group that included boys. At one point a small minivan-esque vehicle pulled up beside us on the busy street, opened the sliding door and slowed to a stop a little too close for comfort. The largest danger I experienced in Caza was crossing the streets, the rule of the road is the big car prevails and everyone else gets out of the way. I noticed that by staying in step with any Moroccans that were crossing the street I was nearly certain I would not be road kill.

September 11:

The second morning in port Casey and I tried to “crash” a trip we had not signed up for, and were successful. We drove in two large passenger vans/small busses to The George Washington Academy, and then to the SOS Children’s Village, both outside of Caza. The George Washington Academy, is a French-American-Arabic private school that seemed very Americanized, of the flags flying in the cafeteria, the US flag was one of them, and the number of Anglo-Saxon, sub-Saharan African, and Asian children was noticeable. We arrived during their lunch hour and Casey, Missy and I sat with three Arabic girls, two of which had dual citizenship (Switzerland and the United States). They all spoke flawless English and were very interested in what we are doing with Semester at Sea and what our lives are like at home. One of the girls, Malik, was even nice enough to write a few rudimentary phrases out in Arabic. After they returned to classes, we were given a tour of the school, which was very modern. The most unique part of the property was it’s location, overlooking the King’s summer palace (one of many I presume).  In usual circumstances no one is allowed to build in the area immediately surrounding or overlooking the King’s property. To be clear, we could see the foliage of the palm trees a mile or so in the distance, which is hardly peeking over the hedge into the royal backyard. My favorite part of the tour was seeing the cute little kindergarteners playing on the play-structures outside and realizing the similarities you could draw to any American recess. Of the whole visit, my favorite part was meeting the girls at lunch and talking to them.

From the Academy we drove back into the rural and sometimes slum-like surroundings and  drove to the SOS Children’s Village, an orphanage. When we arrived at the orphanage all of the children were at school so we were first given an introduction and tour of the property. The children are grouped into family-structure dwellings where a single woman serves as the parental figure. The household we visited was led by a “mother” that looked around 25. The house was very nice, and we were told that nine children lived there, split between four bedrooms each of which looked just like any typical child’s room would in the US. The living room and kitchen were very nice and looked over a large common area.  We also saw the computer room (compliments of Dell), music room (compliments of McDonald’s) and arts & crafts room (compliments of Coca Cola). The grounds were beautiful and it’s clear that these sponsorships help make that possible.

After not too long the students started arriving from their day at school. The first to arrive was a group of little girls, maybe 6 or 7. As soon as they greeted the director of the Village, who I observed serving as a father-type figure to many of them, they came over to a group of the SAS students and greeted us with the sweetest kisses on the cheek I have ever had. Soon they ran off to their houses, and we unfortunately didn’t see them again. More and more children arrived home and soon their were simultaneous play-doh sessions, soccer games and hackey-sack circles including the SAS students and the residents of the Children’s Village. They were all very sweet and what I presumed to be very fortunate children. Earlier in our voyage, a film was shown focusing on the homeless child population in Morocco, and the terrible things they endure (glue-sniffing, selling single cigarettes to eat, sleeping in very unfavorable locations). It is clear to me that these children are very lucky; with a safe place to call home, education, a family (albeit non-biological) and means available for higher education to be paid for, the children I met each has a future much brighter than the film portrayed for orphans. Unfortunately our visit came to an end, and we had to head back to Caza and the stinky port.

After showers and dinner onboard, a group of us ventured off the boat to a nearby hookah bar. There we enjoyed the most delicious mint tea, a specialty of Morocco (green tea brewed with fresh mint leaves and LOTS of sugar, poured emphatically from high above the glass to increase oxygenation and served in the most beautiful silver teapots). Shisha, as hookah is called in Morocco, not to be confused with hashish, as one student did, seemed like a culturally appropriate thing to do. Because we were there during Ramadan it was much more difficult to get a feel for the culture, as people are hungry and cranky during the day, and eating and celebrating with their families at night. The walk back to the boat was fun, as always, passing by dozens of semi-trucks in queue or resting for the night, a handful of German Shephards restrained to some extent by their owners and the no-longer-novel fish head

September 12:

Before our trip to Rabat, Casey and I ventured off the boat to find an internet café for some good ‘ol facebook time! We were told by other kids from the boat that there were lots of internet cafes in the medina (market). However, we neglected to think about our timing, due to mid-morning prayer most of the souks were closed and thus the internet cafés were too. While walking into the medina, a shop owner came up and asked us what we were looking for. He then led us all around the market, past plenty of dark allies and into parts of the medina I surely could not have navigated out of. Surprisingly enough (and thankfully) did not ask for money, claimed that we owed him money or threaten what he would do if we did not give him money. I’ve heard some pretty ridiculous stories post-Morocco about kids getting monkeys or snakes thrown on them and then hounded for money, or having henna gypsies grab a passing arm and start sketching a design with the henna paste and then demanding payment! We were not able to find an open internet café in the medina, but decided to walk around a little bit, before long we found another internet café. Although seemingly open the owner told us to come back at 11:00, presumably because of Ramadan/prayer-time. While we waited for 11:00 to roll around we crossed the street and discovered Restaurant des Fleurs, where we stopped for a famed Moroccan pastry and more mint tea. We went back to the internet café and spent 45 minutes or so there. On our way back to the boat we grabbed some post cards to send home!
When we got back to the boat we immediately had to turn around and get on the busses going to Rabat. Rabat is the capital of Morocco, and the political capital from what I gathered. The bus ride there was around an hour and a half, and the same on the way back. We spent close to three hours in Rabat, touring the city and visiting some notable sights.

Our first stop in Rabat was the Palace and the Andalusian Gardens. We were to approach the palace to about 50 feet to take pictures. The palace, built in the 17th century, was very pretty, but King Mohammed VI wasn’t there. We learned later that he was traveling that very day from Marrakesh to Rabat! 

After leaving the palace we drove past Chellah, a really spectacular Moroccan ruins. The citadel was built in 1154, and was one of the last port cities to sever links with the Roman Empire.  The ruins are still in seemingly good condition, but time didn’t allow us to stop.

Next we visited the Mohamed V Mausoleum and Hassan Mosque, also known as the Unfinished Mosque. When we got off the bus we were immediately approached by gypsies wanting to henna our arms but I stopped only to take pictures with the mounted guards and their horses. The saddest thing about this stop was the TEENY tiny kitten who was crawling around the entrance, clearly separated from her littermates and mommy. There were kittens and cats everywhere in Morocco, but I only saw two stray dogs. The mosque was designed to be a centerpiece of the new capital, after victory of the Spanish, but was abandoned in 1199 after the death of the designer. The un-topped tower looks over hundreds of crumbling pillars that would have held the roof, had the project progressed. Sharing the same property, were the mosque and mausoleum of Mohammed V. The grandfather, father and uncle of the current king are all buried there. Inside there was a pathway around the edges of the upper room, looking down into the chamber where a man sat on a sheepskin mat reading from the Koran to the deceased.

Our next stop, Kasbah des Oudaias, was my favorite part of the Rabat trip. We entered the kasbah through a small doorway down the steps from the Bab Oudaia which our guide said was the most beautiful in the Moorish world. We turned into the gardens where the past rulers used to let their polygamous wives recreate. Inside the kasbah were absolutely beautiful blue and white painted walkways with the most ornate doors and windows, which were clearly very old.

We got back on the bus and drove past miles and miles of beaches before getting on the highway to Casablanca. There were so many young boys fishing in the ocean, and we even saw some with surfboards. It was nice to return to the boat and get some rest. Being in a country where you are on edge and hyper-reactive to any sudden changes was really exhausting.

September 13:

The next day Casey and I rounded up some of our friends and enlisted some male shopping chaperones. We went to the souks in Old Medina, walked around for quite a bit before settling into the shops we liked the best. $1US=8 dirhams, and most of the Moroccan specialties I purchases were between 80-160dh, making this a quite economical shopping trip. Rugs and carpets, camel leather goods, silver tea pots, hammered metal platters, ceramics of any shape and size in traditional Moroccan patterns and colors, Moroccan style tunics and loose pants, and knockoffs, oh were there knockoffs. I mean really, who buys a Louis Vuitton basketball….? And I’m pretty sure Gucci does not make tissue boxes… It was pretty comical though. One girl I was shopping with bought the most beautiful painting evocative of the famous Afghan woman with the piercing eyes from a past National Geographic cover. I had to pace myself, we still have so many countries in the horizon. The last item on our shopping agenda: stamps to mail postcards from Spain and Morocco. While peering into the window of the small shop, I saw the man pick up a sheet of stamps and, while they were upside down, I give myself no relief for how stupid my comment was, “Is that Barack Obama?” Luckily the response was just laughter, but it was a definite cultural oopsie! 

That night we tried to go out for traditional Moroccan food, but the restaurant we went to was closed. Since we were already heading to a jazz concert at Rick’s Café, we decided to eat dinner there before returning safely to the boat.

September 14:

The following morning I had an FDP to visit the Coca Cola plant. The plant smelled like a carwash mixed with a sweet syrupy smell. We saw the water filtration systems, the simple syrup vats and the containers of secret formula flavoring marked CORROSIVE, how nice… At the plant they cleaned and inspected the glass bottles still widely used in Morocco, produced the plastic in house, filled, labeled and packaged the bottles. We were given lots of Coke products and offered a plastic plug that is the bottle before it is blown up and shaped. They served us lunch, my very first meal where I could legitimately not eat anything given to me. Hopefully there won’t be too many more! I was really glad to think of the 30 lbs. of food sitting under my bed back on the MV Explorer, although I neglected to bring any along to the Coca Cola plant.

During Ramadan, the Muslim population does not eat or drink during daylight hours, putting a serious cramp on our tourist style. While it was really interesting to experience the culture during such a special time, it made it all the more difficult for us to experience Morocco.

The buildings I saw while in Caza were the prettiest I saw during the entirety of my time in Morocco, with the exception of the historical buildings in Rabat. The French influence on Morocco was evident, between the patisseries and any old buildings that hadn’t yet collapsed from neglect and dilapidation. Most of the city was filthy, with smoggy grime on all of the once-white buildings. Our location in the port meant there was never a shortage of fish heads and guts from the morning’s catch. The smell of Caza may have irreparably permeated everything I wore off the boat.

As we departed, many of the boys clad in traditional Moroccan outfits and the girls with new henna tattoos, some people with significantly more experience with Camels, each of us all the more wordly and well-traveled, and all of us keenly aware of how easy it has been in the past to take advantage of the simple things: clean water, near-certain safety walking on a city street, the ability to communicate with those around you or even cars stopping at red lights. What a rewarding, exhausting and culturally shocking few days in Casablanca, Morocco.

Stephanie@Sea

"To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted." - Bill Bryson