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This marks our first week in Rabat, and already the comparisons with Fez are many.
Fez alone forms an incomplete image of Morocco in the mind of the traveler. There’s a reason that Fez is the religious and cultural capital of Morocco—its essence is unparalleled. It is easy to imagine what precolonial Morocco was like when one walks through the Old Medina and the souk. In a way, Fez is the snow globe representation of Morocco. Idealistic, it is what the Westerner wants to find in the Arab World. It is not however, the whole, truthful representation of Morocco.
Rabat provides an example of what it means to be a modern Muslim city. Unlike the “Tribal Modern” Gulf, (Tribal Modern 6) Rabat seems to embrace integration into the Western standard of modernity. Men in business suits fill capital buildings and universities. New cars and liquor stores line the streets, and women walk through streets alone, oftentimes not encountering harassment.
Moreover, both cities find themselves on opposite sides of the sexual harassment spectrum. While sexual harassment is found everywhere, there was an almost palpable sense of danger in Fez for my roommate, whose features were undoubtedly American to the men in the old medina. There wasn’t a day that went by where she wasn’t harassed. Here in Rabat, her demeanor is noticeably more relaxed as we’ve pleasantly learned that sexual harassment is less common in this urban, political hub.
Interestingly, I’ve found there to be the same generational gap between older and younger Moroccan women in both cities. It is not uncommon to see young Moroccan women flaunt their beautiful hair and stylish jeans and shirts. In my observational experience, I can say I’ve yet to see a woman under 30 wear a jellaba and hijab. This however, seems to be the social uniform for older Moroccan women. Furthermore, there doesn’t seem to be a social conflict about this generational gap—it seems to be accepted cultural evolution as women in jellaba take their daughters shopping for skinny jeans in malls.
It would be almost unethical to create one’s thoughts on Morocco having visited only one of these cities. These form two important, distinctive halves to the heart of modern Morocco.
This past Thursday, I packed all my things, said my goodbyes to my wonderful host-family in Fes, and moved into my new home-stay Rabat, where I’ll live for the remainder of my time in Morocco. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when we passed by not one, but two McDonald’s on our drive into the city. But that wasn’t the only difference I perceived. Morocco’s French-colonial heritage is much more apparent in Rabat than in Fes. The city, sitting just off the coast of the Atlantic Ocean and along the shores of the Bouregreg River, served as a port city and has been the capital of Morocco since 1912. Under the orders of French General Hubert Lyautey, the capital was relocated to Rabat from Fes. He thought of Rabat as the “Washington D.C. of Morocco,” so it’s no surprise the city is fairly metropolitan.
By designs rendered by the French protectorate, space ten times larger than the original Medina was allotted for urban planning; this developed into the urban hub Rabat is today. The majority of the city is comprised of the Ville Nouvelle (“new village”). Parks and gardens, avenues, and dedicated city sectors reveal the firm French influence on the city’s organization. While the originally planned ‘urban apartheid’ didn’t work out as the French had hoped, their plans for a grand metropolitan center did.
Although Fes has its fair share of stores (and even a few shopping malls), urbanites may find it wanting compared to Rabat’s city streets, filled with high-rise buildings, shops on every corner, and streets bustling with people. Whereas in Fes, cafes, clothing stores, and grocery markets were likely family-owned and the only one of its kind, Rabat is full of chain stores and name brands in America and the like. Although loathe to admit it, the first place I went in my free time was Starbucks. Paying $4 for a cup of coffee anywhere in the world is unconscionable, but Starbucks charges that amount (and more) shamelessly — even in Morocco, where a good cup of coffee normally costs no more than fifteen dirhams. Plenty of Moroccans frequent the Starbucks, too— it’s not just full of ex-pats and study abroad students craving a taste of capitalism. Needless to say, I quite enjoyed my overpriced cup of sugary, ice-cold goodness.
 cringey selfie at Starbucks
 Our Starbucks cups with our names in English and Arabic Consumerism aside, Rabat is also home to the Islamic Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (ISESCO). Founded in Fes in 1979, the organization was launched to promote unity among the countries of the Islamic world — there are now over fifty members. Rabat is home to ISESCO’s headquarters, with more ISESCO summits held in Rabat than in any other city in the Islamic world. In my opinion, that speaks volumes. Rabat is not exactly central to the Arab World, yet it commands enough power that it serves as ISESCO’s main meeting point. Overall, Rabat seems to be a much more influential city than Fes — socially, economically, and politically.
 ISESCO headquarters  Chambers of ISESCO 
I don’t say all this to reduce Fes, however. What Fes lacks in modernity, it makes up for in its incredibly rich culture. Fes has many charms that Rabat likely hasn’t had since its beginnings, not to mention that, throughout Morocco’s history, Fes has held over twice the population as Rabat. Plus, there’s something about the familiarity of Fes that made me fall in love. It’s warm and it’s alive and filled with mothers, fathers, and children — quite unlike the cold glass storefronts and shiny metal buildings that reside in my home city. I suppose, in that way, Rabat reminds me a little of both.
On my second night in Fez, I found myself observing the patterns of physical contact between Fassis. My host family was taking me to a concert in the Medina, and, as we left the house, my host cousin Marwa had taken my hand and not let go as we walked through the streets. Another female cousin, Wefae, had linked arms with my roommate Molly, and our host sister Meriam walked hand in hand with our host mother. Molly and I had only met these women the day before, but we were already accustomed to exchanging kisses on each cheek as a greeting and holding hands when walking around. As we reached the concert, I noticed other pairs of women walking with linked arms or hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I had held hands with a platonic female friend in America. But here it was completely normalized—and practical: holding hands was necessary to avoid being separated in the bustling, crowded streets of Fez.
Even more striking to me was the number of male-male pairs I saw holding hands or linking arms. In America, men holding hands is even more taboo than women holding hands. In many places, gay men still refrain from PDA for fear of harassment, and heterosexual men abstain for fear of being labeled gay. But in Morocco, same-sex physical contact is obviously less sexualized. I found it ironic that in one night in Morocco, (where homosexuality is illegal) I saw more same-sex pairs holding hands than I have ever seen in my hometown in America. And in Fez, no less; the religious capital of the country.
But perhaps Fez’s religiosity is the very reason for this pattern. At mosques, men and women are segregated for prayer, and this trend seems to be reflected in Fez. Male-only cafés line the streets of the Old Medina, and I observed very few mixed-sex physical interactions. I was reminded of a scene in A House in Fez when a French couple was physical attacked by locals for kissing outside of a mosque. In Fez, it is mixed-gender contact that is taboo.
In Rabat, however, the atmosphere is different. I have only been here a few days but have seen numerous heterosexual couples holding hands or embracing in the streets. At street cafés, the tables are occupied equally by men and women, and it is not uncommon to see a man and woman sharing a table—a true rarity in Fez. I still see women linking arms as they cross streets, but I have yet to see any men holding hands. Same-sex and mixed-sex interactions in Rabat appear to be much more Westernized than in Fez. Perhaps this makes sense considering that when France colonized Morocco in 1912, the capital was moved from Fez to Rabat. The French expanded the city to meet their needs and had direct colonial influence there until Morocco gained independence in 1956. Therefore, Rabat was exposed to many more Western values and norms than Fez, and it seems that some of those surrounding gender norms have held on through today.
 The Old Medina in Rabat. Both men and women can be seen sitting at the cafe on the right.
 
With this blogpost, our time in Fez comes to an end.
Morocco is simultaneously the best and the worst place to face one’s anxiety. The ubiquitous attitude of “mish mushkila” (no problem) and “Insha’allah” (God-willing) create an atmosphere where there are no worries and no rush to complete tasks. For someone whose anxiety increases in the face of chaos, Morocco is the perfect place to face their biggest fears. Everything works out in the end.
My selection of pictures serves to demonstrate that even without the Western standard for organization, marvelous things happen. The Western standard for organization isn’t as important as we all think it is. Take the beautiful riads, for example, and the beautiful zellij and lamps that adorn them. Or Chefchauen, the Blue City, and its beauty that goes as far as the eye can see. The tanneries in the heart of Fez, where families have perfected the art through countless generations. Even the insignificant ant, which I found in the Sahara, somehow found its niche in that relentless ecosystem.
More than anything, this trip has been a reminder that individuals are small and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. There are entire ecosystems, cultures, and thousands of years of history worth exploring, but we have to be able to let go of our inner, demanding selves in order to embrace the willingness to fall into the unknown.
       
When God closes a door, he opens a window. In this expression, doors and windows both represent opportunities because they both open up a different experience in life. The Old Medina (City) of Fes – Fes el Bali – has very few windows, but it has many different doors, gates, and arches that each open up to their own unique experience; it’s very interesting to consider how many literal doors there are in Morocco in contrast with how few metaphorical doors to economic prosperity there are.
When I lived in Fes, I lived in the section known as Bab Jdid (New Door/Gate), named for this archway
When I was growing up, one of my favorite monuments was the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. You take an elevator at the base of the structure, and then you’re in an observatory deck at the top of the arch where you can see the beautiful view around it. When I was just a kid, I had no significant reason for enjoying it; I just thought it was really cool (even today I love simply looking through arches, and I’ve seen so many beautiful ones in Morocco). Now as an adult, though, I have found much more meaning in this structure: from the perspective of Lewis and Clark, it represents the past and future of America, the pre and post-Louisiana Purchase world, and even the foundation for Manifest Destiny. Not all arches, gates, and doors are this meaningful, but they all are physical manifestations of the opportunity to transition between one realm and another. I’ve never been able to put this idea into words before my time in Fes, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. The door to a house is the border between the public and private realms; a gate in an airport is the waiting room between two distinct geographical areas; the entryway to a school is the border between the academic and non-academic world. I didn’t realize this until I saw Bab Boujloud, the main entry into Fes’s Old Medina and its marvelous souks (markets). Despite being the same part of the same city, there is such a dynamic difference between the outer and inner Old City that it’s almost unfathomable. Outside the gate, it just looks like a typical older city with some modern aspects, but once inside you’re almost literally breathing in a living relic. The city was founded more than 1,000 years ago; while the people have changed with the time, the buildings are largely the same and the preserved culture is palpable. The largest car-free urban area in the world, life is bursting from every alley (or maybe it just feels that way since they’re barely wide enough for a donkey pulling a cart to get through); the unique amalgamation of homes and businesses in the city is probably what makes the community truly thrive. These two distinct parts of Fes all have individual merit, culture, and identity, and it’s Bab Boujloud that serves as the important gateway between these two separate worlds. But more than that, the gate also symbolizes the sheer ability for these two worlds to co-exist and for the people there to move between them. Gateways and arches that people can see through are particularly beautiful and thought-provoking because you can actually experience two realms at the same time. Understanding the significance of Bab Boujloud, especially in consideration of the historical relationship between France and Morocco and how this gate symbolizes the cultural conflict to some extent, helped me realize why entryways are meaningful to me outside of pure aesthetic enjoyment (but they also do look beautiful without context, so I took lots of photos).
Bab Boujloud, also called the Blue Gate, beautiful & ornate, yet actually very new relative to the old city.
Fes was founded in 789, but this gate was only built in 1913 (there were earlier gates here).
Even though it’s known as the “Blue Gate”, the other side of Bab Boujloud is green.
An archway looking Bab Makina Square, which is a popular concert space in Fes
Bab Dar Lakbira, one of many pretty gates in Meknes, an imperial city an hour from Fes
Bab Mansour, another beautiful gate in Meknes. Part of the last
important construction project for Sultan Moulay Ismail
Bab Moulay Ismail, yet another gate from Meknes, during a striking sunset
A beautiful blue door from the city of Chefchaouen, where many buildings are painted white and blue
A gate of a guard post for Volubilis, a former Berber then Roman city. Its beauty lies in simplicity.
The Arch of Caracalla, a much more decorative arch of Roman Volubilis, constructed in 217 AD.
The Golden Gates of Fes, the beautiful entrance into the city’s royal palace
A series of arches looking into The University of al-Qarawiyyine, founded in 859, the world’s oldest existing continuously active university – often simply called the world’s oldest university
One of the doors to Ibn Danan Synagogue, an inactive synagogue in Fes preserved from the 17th century. This door has significant meaning for me, since it represents 1. The border between a Jewish sanctuary and the rest of Morocco which is mostly connected to Islam and 2. The line between Jewish life in Morocco before and after the creation of Israel (250,000 Jews in 1948 à 2,500 Jews 70 years later).
Morocco, largely due to the common use of the horseshoe arch style, is home to the most beautiful doors I’ve ever seen; the doors I’m used to seeing in urban and suburban America are often practical, sleek, and modern, but I would hardly consider any breathtaking by virtue of their appearance. However, despite all of Morocco’s ornate physical doors, the people of Morocco unfortunately have far less metaphorical doors at their disposal. As I mentioned at the beginning, doors (and windows, but especially doors) are often metaphors for opportunity, specifically economic/employment-based opportunity. However, in a country like Morocco where the doors are so beautiful, this metaphor for some reason does not hold up. For the sake of reference exclusively, I will compare economic numbers to those of America. Nationally, Morocco has a 10.5% unemployment rate; America’s official U3 unemployment rate is 4.0%, but Morocco’s rate is most likely more akin to America’s 7.8% U6 unemployment rate (this number includes underemployment and discouraged workers). However, a much greater disparity comes when comparing “youth” unemployment. For Morocco’s youth demographic (25-34), unemployment was 26% – and this number was nearly double (around 50%) in cities – in 2011, and general unemployment matches that of 2011 so this number must be comparable. In America, however, its youth demographic (16-24) has an unemployment rate of 8.4% while it 25-34 age demographic has a 3.9% unemployment rate. The most disturbing statistic is that greater education correlates to greater unemployment in Morocco, while the opposite is certainly true in America. This is not to say that education is actually looked upon negatively; rather, it probably just means that there are few jobs available in citizens’ chosen degree paths along with a general reluctance to take a job below one’s standard of education (there are plenty of sales and menial labor positions in cities that could be taken by degree holders but are taken by non-degree holders instead). As a result, there are high levels of Moroccan immigration to Europe (especially France and Spain) in search of greater economic prospects. People from many nations emigrate in hopes of a better economic future (that is how the United States began, after all) but the educational aspect is hopefully something far less common. Education is supposed to be the greatest source of human capital and social mobility – people that work hard to learn should at least earn something as a result of the time invested for the future. There are many concerns with the educational system as well, and many ways to improve it, but there is a major problem concerning how little merit seems to matter for employment in high-ranking positions in Morocco – especially in government. As basically summarized by a human development report of the Arab World in 2002, “People are given jobs because of what they know, but because of whom they know.” And in regard to government, this creates “an unmoving, unresponsive central authority and an incompetent public administration.” With Morocco specifically, this phenomenon was more true during the reign of the prior king, Hassan II. Mohammed VI, however, is more well-accepted by the Moroccan people, and the reforms put in place with the 2011 constitutional reform (as limited as they were) signaled a government that at the very least heard its citizens’ complaints and actually directly addressed some of them. The king and his ministers recognized the issue of unemployment in Morocco, especially amongst young and educated Moroccans, and added verbiage to the constitution indicating future parliamentary action to implement change. But nonetheless, even after the constitutional reforms, unemployment has not changed much over the past seven years and there are still minor protests in Rabat almost daily concerning jobs and education. So the question remains: if the educational system is apparently ineffective, what metaphorical doors do the people of Morocco still have that can lead them towards economic prosperity?
I mentioned earlier that I only used American economic statistics for the sake of reference, because I know my audience will be almost entirely American; I wanted people to know how the numbers compared to the ones they were used to, but people need to consider those numbers with context. America and Morocco are incomparable economically; agriculture takes up only 2% of America’s workers, but it’s 37% of Morocco’s national workforce. Not only that, but Morocco is about one-tenth of the USA’s population, has a much smaller role in the global market, women are generally less likely to be employed across almost every field, and people’s general way of life is very different; numbers don’t tell the whole story, and they certainly should never lead people to believe in one society’s “superiority” over another. I recognize my nationality and the fact that it has granted me a different perspective of Morocco and the people who live in it, so I refrain from judging its society as a whole. However, I have spoken to numerous Moroccans who do have judgments about their society and want to make Morocco a better place from their perspective, and I intend to recognize the efforts of Morocco’s citizenry for actively participating in the political sphere and intending to make Morocco the place they want it to be.
I can only be a witness to this force of change, but hopefully one day Morocco’s metaphorical doors to economic prosperity will be just as beautiful and plentiful as its physical doors, gates, and arches.
“Employment in Agriculture (% of Total Employment) (modeled ILO Estimate).” GDP Growth (annual %) | Data. Accessed July 22, 2018.
“Self-doomed to Failure.” Economist.com. July 04, 2002. Accessed July 22, 2018.
Silverstein, Paul. “Weighing Morocco’s New Constitution | Middle East Research and Information Project.” Merip.org. July 05, 2011. Accessed July 22, 2018.
Tradingeconomies.com (both American and Moroccan numbers not in above sources)
While the country of Morocco has only existed independently since 1956, Moroccan traditions go back a long way. From handmade crafts to outdated modes of transportation to ancient ruins, Morocco certainly doesn’t lack traditional practices and commodities, even though the country is modernizing rapidly (along with the rest of the world). It is an odd contrast seeing these ancient practices alongside modern equipment, transportation, and decor, but this somehow suits Moroccan society. Through this combination, there is created an interesting meld of past, present, and future.
 Postcards and Plates in the Souks In our first week in Fes, we visited the souk or market to tour the oldest part of the city. The various shops lining the narrow streets of the Medina offer food items like spices, meats, nuts, and fruits, traditional craft items, leather goods, “hand-crafted” souvenirs of dubious origins, and more. The possibilities are limitless in the souks. There is a bit of irony to the concept of the souk – it serves as food and goods market for those who live in the Medina, a place to buy very “traditionally Moroccan” items; however, it is also home to thousands of goods made solely to serve the desires of tourists who want to bring home something “authentic” from their travels, but often turns out to be a cheaply made simulacrum hanging on a keychain.
 Chaouwara Tannery In the middle of the Fes Medina, there is the Chaouwara Tannery. The entrance – a small door in an alley – leads you into the shop where many hand-made leather goods are sold that were died and dried in that very spot. After winding through the shop’s various rooms, I found myself on an upstairs balcony that overlooks the vats of colored liquid in which the leather is dipped to gain its color. Out in the blazing sun, men stand in the vats to dip the skins in and out of the mixtures, and then pull them out to be lain and dried in the sun. The fact that they perform this arduous labor to produce such beautiful leather goods, especially in a world full of factory-made ‘designer’ leather products, amazes me.
 Hand-operated loom The last shop we visited in the Medina was the weaving workshop. Not only do they make all the goods by hand, but they use cactus silk to make the thread and a human-powered loom to do the weaving. They make everything from blankets to scarves to bags and the finished products are of excellent quality. Family-owned and going back numerous generations, the workshop is clearly a source of pride for the men who work there. Authenticity sets their products apart from those which are machine-made.
 The Amazigh Riad’s kitchen During our stay in Meknes, the owner of an Amazigh Riad allowed us to tour her residence. Imazighen is the proper term for the Berber people, originally named “Berber” by the Greek because they viewed the Imazighen as barbaric people. The owner of this riad, however, proudly displayed her accommodations – all in the traditional Amazigh style. I couldn’t help but notice alongside her tajines and clay vases the presence of modern appliances.
 Interior of the Basilica of Volubilis
 Reconstructed olive-oil press in Volubilis
 Dining-room mosaic in The House of Orpheus
 Atrium mosaic in The House of Orpheus
Not far from Meknes lies the ancient ruins of Volubilis originally built by the Roman Empire. It was the capital of the kingdom of Mauretania. Inhabited by Romans from around 30 BC to 280 AD, the city held an estimated 20,000 Roman occupants at its peak. While much of the city was destroyed in the following centuries by Imazighen, Christian, and Arab inhabitants who were unable to maintain the city’s infrastructure, many of the city’s ruins remained. After being excavated by French and Moroccan authorities in the 1900’s, you can see the ghosts of Volubilis’s structures such as a few grand houses, the basilica, the Capitoline Temple, and more. The intricacy of the city’s design rivals modern civil architecture. The mere existence of a two-thousand-year-old city within kilometers of present-day civilization is incomprehensible.
 Riding off into the Sahara on camels (note the cars parked in the parking lot next to the camels) Last, but certainly not least, we rode into the Sahara Desert on camels this past weekend. Whereas camels used to be the main mode of transportation in the desert, they now serve an honorary role. Tourists pay through the nose to experience a lite version of Berber life as it were, even suffering through the rough camel ride, 100+ degree heat, and lack of bathrooms to stay in a Berber camp in the desert overnight. Though cars are the more efficient alternative by far, the small presence of still-nomadic Imazighen and the modern world’s veneration of camel riding/racing prevents such activities from becoming obsolete.
The melding of ancient and modern, while contradictory in theory, can be complimentary due to the modern world’s ever-present desire to preserve that which needs preserving and to remember the ways of the days of old. This sort of contrast has become the rule rather than the exception in many developing countries around the world. As technology increasingly pervades daily life, it does not precisely render the old ways obsolete, but it does set the traditional apart from more modernized goods and methods. Even I feel torn between my preference to embrace the new and my longing to cling to the old, unable to find a reasonable balance. I can only imagine how the world as a whole feels.
Home is about familiarity. In the United States, I find “home” in simple things, like knowing where to find the cups or the trash can. When I’m at home, I can be independent, because I know what to expect and how to handle it. With so many controlled variables, it feels easier to address the occasional unexpected circumstance. Of course feeling at home while I’m abroad is harder. Since so many things in Morocco are beyond my control, I have been forced to expand what locales I consider home.
For my third blog post, I wanted to share the spaces I’ve occupied so far. Some are in my new “Home” and other places have been temporary stops beyond it. Although I’m the only person in my homestay right now, our program’s community has given me a sense of belonging in many of the “Away from home” locations you can see in this post.
Home
Fez has been my city for the past three weeks, and much like home, I rarely explore beyond my usual travel routes. This bad pattern is mostly because we have at least one or two trips every week, as well as programming on most other days. Constant movement can make it hard to find a sense of home, yet lately I’ve felt comfortable with my daily navigation to the Arabic Language Institute in Fez (ALIF)s and around the medina. While I adjust more each day, I miss home (both Texas and Duke) a little bit more each day as well. My homesickness shades many of my new adventures, and I’ve even started missing my homestay in Fez when I leave the city.
Feeling at home in Fez is fairly simple at times. I gain that feeling of comfort from walking briskly through the medina each day. I know my path: once I make it past the local cellular store and a large parking area, I can follow the signs to various guesthouses near my homestay.
 A sign to a dar near my apartment If I’m feeling productive, I can walk to ALIF Riad, which is another familiar place for me. At this point, I’m also very familiar with the rank smell right before I reach the riad and the more enjoyable sensation of sparrows chirping around the orange trees.
 A Courtyard in ALIF Riad My favorite landmarks are elevated above my normal line of sight. Even though the guesthouse plaques only guide me half of the way, I always pass a lone palm tree, straight from a scene in Los Angeles, that signals I am on the right track. At the end of the road, I’m supposed to turn left. Every time I glance to the right, I see a lazy outcropping of flowers bending over the alley.
 Flowers by my homestay Once I see the droopy flora, I make a left and I’m home. I collapse on my bed, and when I look up, I can see light illuminate the wood carving on my ceiling.
 Ceiling Carving Away from Home
As a quick recap – I have visited Chefchaouen, Meknes and Volubilis, and the Sahara. We are scheduled to wander two more cities, Rabat and Casablanca, this weekend. Chefchaouen was a quick day trip, so the following pictures come from the longer excursions.
While we were in Meknes we stayed in Riad D’or, where we met a cat we christened Jeremy. She was very sweet, and her four-year-old owner was happy to see us check out on the last day. We visited a few different riads, dars, and palais on our long tour of Meknes. Each one had a unique way of capturing and altering light.
 Iron window grate at a dar
[Light fixture in a palais]
We even stopped in a horse home (ancient stables). Where the roof is intact, thick walls keep the entire area comfortably cool.
 Old stables in Meknes Once we left Meknes, we traveled to the Roman city of Volubilis. 80% of the original stone from the city is gone, but the mosaics that decorated the floors of some homes are still intact.
[Mosaic in the Orphan’s Home in Volubilis]
Our trip to the Sahara involved around 16 hours of driving total. On the first night, we stayed in Hotel Xaluca, a five-star hotel, to rest before facing 105+ degree temperatures. Almost everyone jumped in the pool for a midnight swim, and it was a great way to cool off.
 Hotel Xaluca Arch (Photo Credit: Harry Sanderson)  Hotel Xaluca Arch (Photo Credit: Harry Sanderson) The next day was not so cushy. We stopped at a hotel for lunch, then slowly baked in a dark room. The outside temperature was 109 degrees F, and the weak AC unit couldn’t make a noticeable improvement. Fortunately, Texas humidity prepared me well, and although I didn’t feel fantastic, the dry heat was very manageable. Watching an episode of Black Mirror together and dangling our feet in the pool helped temperature control as well.
 Hot Hotel {Backside} A few hours after sitting in the toaster oven hotel, we were riding camels to Marzouga. I named my camel Olivier. He had an edgy, but friendly personality. He also had a nose ring.
 Camel shadows The wind was warm. There was a lot of sand. The sky was clear. The desert met my basic expectations. I’m tempted to ask for more, but at the same time, this simple alignment between expectation and reality made even the desert feel a little more like home.
MOROCCO IN PICTURES
In my first post, I slightly talked about how beautiful and clean the streets of Fez, the city I’m currently living in, are. Well, I have since travelled to (or through) different cities in Morocco and couldn’t have enough of the beauty of this country. I observed that cities in Morocco have been properly planned, with each city having an old town, with ancient architecture, and a new part with more recent architecture- mostly apartments. I can’t possibly explain, in detail, the beauty of each city in just one blogpost but will try give an overview of some of the cities I have visited so far and mention a few things that stood out to me.
*At the end of this blogpost, I have put links to my google photos with all the amazing pictures which I took during my visits, so enjoy at the end of your read!*
Chefchaouen -the Blue City
 A picture in the blue city
Next to the Rif mountains of Northwest Morocco (about four hours’ drive from Fez), lies the blue city of Chaouen with its beautifully blue-washed buildings. This was one of the first places some of my friends recommended I visit when I told them that I’d be going to Morocco this summer and I surely wasn’t disappointed when I visited (though the food wasn’t the best I have had in Morocco.)
Meknes
Meknes is a two hour drive out of Fez and I found the two cities quite similar and I almost felt I was doing a second tour of Fez. I, however, on our way out of Meknes, enjoyed the tour of Volubilis, z partly excavated ruins of an ancient Roman city, destroyed by an earthquake in the 18th Century.
Some of my classmates standing at the ruins of Volubilis
While I have had enough time to explore and enjoy the above cities, there are others that we passed by on our way to the Sahara desert and got me so interested that I asked my Moroccan friend about them and had interesting facts about them.
Midelt: The Apple City
 Midelt: The Apple City
Though we didn’t get a chance to stop and explore this city, I was captivated by its greenness and beauty and when I asked Meriam, my Moroccan friend, about it, she told me that this is one of the main agricultural lands and is well known for apple production. While still talking about Midelt, we passed by a beautiful roundabout (picture above) that lives up to the name of the city!
Erfoud: Ammonites
This area is rich in limestone, dating back to over 300 million years ago, according to a guy who showed us around, and there are many fossils, mostly ammonites (an extinct group of marine animals), found in these region. The guy told us that there are several theories explaining the existence of many ammonites in the area and the most profound one was that the area now covered by the Sahara desert was once a sea. The ammonites were over the time buried by sediments as the sea dried up, transforming the shells of the ammonites into stone through geological processes. The region now has many fossil deposits, mined and carved into different items by Moroccan craftsmen. Looking through the countless beautiful carvings was overwhelming and after minutes of conflicting thoughts on what to buy from the collection, I settled for the map of Africa shown above which is by far the prettiest Moroccan made item I have come across!
Merzuga: Trek through the Sahara
I enjoyed the three day desert trip to Merzuga. The view of the sand dunes and the sunset while on the camel was just breathtaking, to say the least. We spent the night in Berber tents, watched the stars and spent the night there.
Ifrane City: The Switzerland of Morocco
 Contrasting pictures of Ifran taken by a Moroccan during the summer and winter
Finally, Ifrane. This is a special city. It is different from other Moroccan cities- greener and cooler throughout the year. They call it “the Switzerland of Morocco” With an alpine climate, this small city is where many wealthy Moroccans from nearby cities travel to during the winter to experience snow and enjoy many snow-events and also in the summer to escape the hot weather of most of these other cities.
Chaouen pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipPpz2ZzxOuvXJUmu8pLmUqSIOVxHyUT-k2NbJtT4OPpUE-w3G96guPQzBHCOQ4tug?key=Y2s2ME9BTDJhS0l1MzRkNEZxOFBkQVVIRjBGZkJn
Desert Trip-
https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipP2tt9q0OUloMGF3uRzTrTOt9BUJ3hl32RN-YVCwwV1SnHqJYTI91kzepVpRaJagg?key=WVBxM3ZVbzIwRWROWGNIX2lqYzlxZ25oMWhTZzFn
MEKNES AND VOLUBILIS
https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipO30OfFSyww4gEF3cFHf026F8WvBmhcUNxxgqKMrVnQBKFgZkUpEvFRjuYCFadUPw?key=ZDZOS1lsVHhibVJpaUZjQWdtMTdDWS1VeEFobG1R
The blazing sun finally sets across from the tight-knit houses and age-old storefronts, behind the distant mountains only recognizable by the hazy shadow that sits vigilantly perched upon the endless violet horizon. The air is liberated from its diurnal fever and the sweat that had formed on the backs of men leading donkey-pulled carts through suffocated alleys of the labyrinthine Medina evaporates from their ragged shirts and cracked hands. In every neighborhood, the wooden door to a modest dar opens to be connected to the bustling street where the parochial cafés teem with affable faces ordering coffee and tea. The café owner uncouples the shaded windows as he invites a man or two to sit outside on the street side porch. People stumble in and out of cars and little, red taxis, none able to move through the sea of self-absorbed pedestrians searching for their friends whom they told they would meet for a drink after work. The men outside the café watch the bustle safely from a distance, droning to each other over their daily inconveniences or about the muted soccer match playing on the TV mounted on the otherwise barren wall. They sip their cups of coffee with a cigarette in hand, blowing smoke onto the dusty square. A smile steals their wrinkled faces as they watch shirtless children splash in the tiled fountain, reminding them of when they were young and full of life. But, when the sun goes down, they feel a hint of that same energy that used to belong to them. The cool night brings life back to the city, drawing out men and women from their shaded crannies and cavernous homes. In the dark, the face of each Moroccan twinkles like an earthly star, each one radiating a gratitude like no other: a gratitude to life, to living at this very moment.
 Café by Hotel Batha
It is undeniable that the Moroccan people possess a joie de vivre so envied by the modern world. Not far from the café, elongated shadows creep across a sprawling forum flanked by the old city walls and cobbled roads. Retired men sit gathered on a set of stairs, playing a raucous game of chess, hoping to forget about their aching bodies. Preying vendors sell grilled corn, orange juice, and soft serve ice cream to sweltering tourists and hungry children. The men laugh, half-scared, because none of them know which sunset is their last; but they smile knowing that if they died today they would leave this life fulfilled. Birds fly high up above in swirling mobs like an ocean of feathers in a cream soda sky. They fly freed from the tethers of the earth, swooping down to catch stray crumbs and exhausted rodents. The men look up with hope, imagining they might come back here in the next life like a bird, watching their old friends from high up above. The sun sets slowly, not to ruin the moment the worn men wish could last a little longer. As the evening turns into night, the square is transformed into a stage set for musical performers and thousands of ears eager to listen and not worry about what comes when the sun rises tomorrow. They sing and dance along to their favorite songs, celebrating their life, culture, and unity. Flashing lights reveal smiles of hopes and dreams of both rich and poor. Late into the night the music roars, knowing no sleep when there is time to live.
In a square similar to this, some forty miles away, men hold snakes up to wide-eyed travelers and storytellers pay homage to the poets of their ancient Arab past as people gather around with baited breath, waiting for the next installment. Music is played to enthused listeners who throw in grateful dirhams to the drummers and oud players. A man with a wooden flute shows pictures of himself posed with celebrities to a passerby making his way down a wide boulevard that leads to a foreign world full of tall buildings and neon lights. Here, people ebb and flow from upscale stores and ethnic restaurants under streetlights and flashing signs. Some sit in charming gardens, letting their children play while they gossip with their friends. A Ferris wheel turns gently in the distance, and taking notice, a child pulls at his mother’s skirt wanting to go for a ride. Everyone walks slowly, taking everything in: the smells, the sights, the sounds, the tastes. There is no need to rush. There is no immediate purpose to their being out. They are not looking to satisfy their hunger or thirst. No, they are looking for life, for a moment to remember and in which to live. Diners wait in restaurants far past the call of midnight, ordering another tea to complement their conversation. Why go home? Why sleep when life is happening now? Wouldn’t it be sad to miss it? To them, life is a celebration, each moment unique and special from any other before it— or after.
 Meknes New City  Meknes Square There is no doubt that Moroccans celebrate life. On a familiar street, a baby cries swaddled in her mother’s arms. The house is decorated in pink and white lace and suede chairs. Food is piled high upon the tables, arranged with a careful hand and critical eye. Musicians sing and beat their drums to the rhythm of an ancient song that induces a room of dancing and smiles. Chanting and clapping, the room fills with an almost infectious energy that pulls men and women out of their seats. They all wear their finest clothes of silk covered with sparkling jewels and handcrafted lace appliqué. The husband and wife smile, holding their days-old child gingerly. It too is dressed in fine white clothes, upset from its nap with the deafening commotion being created. The trio put on their best smile for pictures. Their excitement and joy are undeniable in their faces, the camera picking up on it all. With a long, sharp knife, the husband approaches the sheep fastened to the living room wall. Blood pools on the floor and the music thunders while the guests cheer wildly. A celebration of life— a new life. They welcome a stranger to this world in hopes their future on this Earth will be one that is blessed. To them, there is nothing more sacred than this life. Every moment that we live matters. We must sacrifice so much to live the best way we possibly can. They do not fear the sheep for a life lived to its fullest makes for one who is not afraid to face death. The noise dies down to only a hum of conversations at the lunch table, all happy to share this moment with each other— a moment I will never forget.
 Aqiqah 
Silent is the desert whose winds have died and golden sands have cooled. The scorching daylight fades away to reveal thousands of stars, foreign to any urban citizen. Like a painting, they hang high up in the sky as if you could reach up and grab one and bring it back down to Earth. Of these millions of stars and planets, why us, why here? These are questions to which there is no answer. All we have is this life and with it we must do the most. We can only take regret with us when we depart. Regret that we did not enjoy our life, that in the moment we closed our eyes and forgot to look at what sat just in front of us. If we only have this life, why not live it like the Moroccans do? Embrace each moment and find joy in everyday life. Like those men in the café and children in the fountain, like those street vendors and chess players, like those desert lights, I too begin to glow with a gratitude of my own.
 Sahara Desert at night
Woven within the intricate yet durable fabrics of Moroccan society, there lies an element that’s both immediately striking and stimulating. You see it in the hustling of vendors of all sorts within the souks, in the over-100° F heat of the Sahara Desert, in the streets littered among the unknown assortment of objects. Moroccan people and animals alike have strenuously entwined perseverance into their characteristics, and when looking about, this ability pervades the senses so strongly that it appears to be even commonplace among the public. Given that Morocco can still be considered an underdeveloped country, reasons for needing the ability to persevere are obvious if any kind of living is to be made. However, as an observer, there is an aspect of beauty that comes from being able to see a range of individuals and animals engaging in this action of perseverance. Although my words won’t be enough to embody the struggle of daily life of Moroccans, perhaps these pictures will aid in my endeavor.
Recently, in a neighboring hallway in proximity to my host-family’s dar, a kind soul (or serial litterer) had donated a cardboard box in the corner of this hallway. The next morning, a cluster of kittens and adult cats had claimed this object as their domain for sleeping, creating a patchwork of fur and various dream-heavy eyes lazily sparing me a glance. It was interesting to see how this squad of kittens and cats turned a person’s trash into a shelter for warmth during the cold Moroccan nights. No stranger to the occasional cat brawls, instead, these cats chose the art of cuddling to overcome their problems.
Our journey to the blue painted city of Chefchaouen truly displayed the tactful resourcefulness of locals and their willingness to exploit visitors. One particular memory I had while in the city was a striking blue hallway lined with an ornate variety of goods. Located on the left of what could have been mistaken for a good itself lied a small basket with the statement, “One durham for photos”. The sign’s scribe knew he could profit off the beauty of his city, yet his willingness to invent new forms of income were admirable. Additionally, there was a particularly large mural that depicted various peoples moving throughout their daily lives. One particular رجل caught my eye. He stood about five foot four, blue complexion, and a bit preoccupied with a bucket. Although him being a two-dimensional individual, he seemed immersed in the continous labors of the day, and appeared to be in pensive thought on the daily tribulations to come.
 
As the days wound down towards their last legs in Fes, we visited the Sahara Desert on our final excursion outside the city prior to our departure to the city of Rabat. There, in the sweltering heat and sizzling sand, I met Mr. Noodle. Of course, he was the friendly camel of the Sahara I sat on for that better half of three hours. Despite the scars along his neck and backside, it seemed as though he had formed an especially close bond with Scooby, the seemingly indifferent camel in front of Mr. Noodle. Even amid the immense heat and the trek beneath the scorching sun while carrying completely unnecessary cargo (aka me), Mr. Noodle showed no intention of removing his comfortably nestled face from alongside Scooby’s hip. Their friendship persevered past even the terrible ache in my back from sitting atop Mr. Noodle.
 
Overall, the adversities faced by residents of Morocco are able to take upon a dual nature, allowing for posibilities concerning the enhancement of sentimental experiences, innovativation, and the formation of a collective group united under hardships. Traditionally, the myriad of touristic features of Morocco that draw local visitors and foreigners alike are generally thought to represent the aesthetic parts of the country. This essay and its entourage of images hopefully depicted the less common narrative.
As I have amazingly already spent three weeks in Morocco, and my time in Fez is coming to an end, I would like to utilize this week’s blog as a recap of some of the amazing things I have seen thus far in Morocco. What has struck me the most about this beautiful country is its incredible architecture, where every building of each city I have visited has showcased its own intricate and exotic designs. Moroccan architecture has a rich history, as many tour guides, professors, and locals have informed us, that is full of complicated conflicts and migrations. Interestingly, and unsurprisingly, Morocco became a refuge for Moors fleeing the Christian conquest of Spain. Under Moorish rule, the Iberian Peninsula had incredibly beautiful buildings created across the land. As Moors feared persecution and even death, they fled to nearby Muslim countries, the nearest of which was here in Morocco. So, Morocco was blessed to be a sanctuary for highly skilled Moorish architects who utilized Moroccan resources to continue to construct exotic buildings all over the country. Thus, Morocco became known for the high quality and intricate designs of its buildings. I first noticed this in Fez when we toured the Medina on the first Saturday of our time here. Fez’s medina is full of delicately crafted fountains, homes, and mosques. One of its most striking features are the beautiful gates which boldly welcome all peoples and act as entrances into the medina.
This gate is just one of many which line the entrances to this old city. Interestingly, it was built by the French in 1913, but it was built to mimic Moroccan architecture and possesses all the qualities of a beautiful Moroccan masterpiece.
Our first trip outside of Fez and into the Moroccan countryside led us to the interesting “blue city” called Chefchauoen. This city, built into the side of a mountain, is beautiful and well-known because of its mysterious blue buildings. Inside its old city, every street, building, and even tree is painted a beautiful turquoise color. While no one knows exactly why these buildings are all painted this color, there have been many theories (like that this color keeps away the mosquitoes). However, the mystery of this city is one of the reasons it is so interesting and draws thousands of people to walk through its blue streets every year.
As encaptivating as the streets of Chefchauoen are, after traveling to Meknes and seeing its architecture, I began to realize that beauty was a normal part of life for Moroccans. We were able to go into its Medina onto a rooftop and look over its buildings. We saw the dozens of towers that dotted its skyline. These towers were used as watchtowers in old Moroccan history, but are still used for the Islamic call to prayer every day. We learnt that there are over 100 of them in the Medina alone, a shocking amount for such a small space.
Then we were able to visit Meknes’ famous square, full of vendors selling assorted goods, families entertaining their children, and live bands entertaining large crowds. As we walked through the square and the streets around it, I was just astounded that these local families casually lived in a city surrounded by buildings and arches hundreds of years old. To them, these were normal sites and were nothing special. To us, we were shocked and amazed by the delicacy and hand-crafted care that went into every building we passed.
Thus, my time in Morocco has been an experience I have never even come close to having before. Each day I find a new site or landmark which is just as beautiful as the last. It emphasizes the deep history that Morocco has and the pride with which Moroccan architects took in their work. Thankfully, most of these buildings have maintained their aesthetic value, retaining their beauty and not experiencing any major decline or damages. Overall, the architecture has just been one of many amazing things I have witnessed in my time here, and, with only 3 weeks left, I just want to appreciate every new design I come across.
When exploring a new place, I am always on the lookout for local artwork. My definition of artwork is broad: paintings, furniture, architecture, performances—anything that requires skill and creativity to create. Morocco does not disappoint—I am awed by works of art everywhere that I go. After only a few days I realized that art in the form of traditional crafts and artisanship seem particularly important to Moroccan culture and economy. After looking at items for sale in the Medina and touring The Center of Vocational Training in Handicrafts in Fez I am convinced that these practices reflect the soul of Morocco and am thrilled to see the preservation of these antique art forms.
I had heard of zellij, or mosaic tilework, before even arriving in Morocco via Suzanna Clarke’s book, A House in Fez. While restoring a traditional Moroccan house, Clarke searches for a craftsman who will be able to repair the zellij on the floor and walls. She finds someone, but it is expensive and time consuming. I later learned that many Moroccan people opt to replace old zellij with modern bathroom tile for this very reason. Looking at all the beautiful zellij around Morocco, it saddened me to think that people would want to remove it. However, I understand the financial restraints and was heartened to see people being trained in the art of zellij at the Center of Vocational Training.
 Zellij on a fountain in a riad in Meknes. A craft that certainly is in no danger of becoming extinct in Morocco is leatherworking. During our first weekend in Fez, we were given a tour of the city that included a visit to the Chouara Tannery, the largest in the city. When our group arrived, we were given mint leaves to drown out the scent of the tanning process and led upstairs through a maze of leather goods to a balcony overlooking huge drums of liquid. A worker pointed to different vats as he lead us through the process of cleaning and dying the hides before they were made into shoes, purses, wallets, furniture, and a host of other goods. I try not to buy leather goods, but I had to admit that the merchandise was beautiful and obviously took great skill to make.
 Leather coin purses for sale in a shop in the Medina. While on the same tour of the Medina we visited some local weavers. They showed us how they used massive looms to create scarves and blankets, thread by thread, the old-fashioned way, sometimes working for multiple days to create one piece. Later, at the Center of Vocational Training, I tried my hand at weaving. After a few tries, I felt like I understood the mechanics, but I couldn’t imagine spending entire days repeating the same motions over and over to create the beautiful tapestries that hung on the walls. Still, I was glad that there were still individuals who were willing to devote their lives to the loom in order to carry on the tradition of weaving.
 Spools of thread and finished textiles at the Center of Vocational Training in Handicrafts in Fez. Throughout my travels of Morocco I also observed intricate woodworking in houses and restaurants. At the Center of Vocational Training, we had the privilege to watch a craftsman carefully carve a huge wooden piece of décor. Taking his time, he used multiple tools to chisel, cut, and hammer flowers and patterns into the wood. I was amazed at how symmetrical his designs turned out, as he used no stencils, measures, etc. He had clearly put a lot of time and effort into learning the ways of his craft, and I wished I had the dirhams to purchase one of his works.
 Inside a woodworking workshop in Meknes. I once again had the chance to practice a craft myself when I attended a calligraphy class sponsored by the American Language Center in Fez. I was mesmerized as I watched the instructor effortlessly script names and phrases with the rudimentary wooden pens and thin, runny ink. He told us that Arabic calligraphy is often used in architecture, especially on mosques, and that a special calligrapher is needed to write marriage certificates in Morocco. I was pleased to hear that the ancient art form still had practical applications in the modern day.
 My best attempt at writing my name in the Moroccan style of Arabic calligraphy. A handicraft that is impossible to ignore in Morocco is present at every meal: tajines! The conical cooking dishes, along with other ceramic items, are clearly not just for viewing but are used daily in Morocco At the Center of Vocational Training, I watched two women hand-paint tajines in a room full of unfinished ceramics. Each piece was a unique work of art, and yet would go on to be appreciated each day not only for its beauty but its utility. My host family in Morocco cooks tajine dishes for dinner and stores butter, jam, and spices in smaller tajines around the house. I am confident that beautiful tajines will be crafted for years to come.
 Decorative tajines for sale at the Center of Vocational Training in Handicrafts in Fez. These are only some of the beautiful handicrafts that I have seen during my short time in Fez. At the Center of Vocational Training, I also witnessed artisans working with metal, plaster, and paint, and entered a workshop where traditional Moroccan instruments are crafted. While walking around the streets of Fez, I have seen woven baskets, embroidered clothes, and intricately decorated cakes and pastries—each of which is clearly an art form in its own right. I am delighted to see such a vibrant community of craftsmanship and art in Morocco, and humbled by the immense talent, originality, and dedication these Moroccan artisans possess.
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