Morocco

Tetuan, Morocco

We arrive in Tetuan and depart from the bus at the bus station. Immediately upon disembarking we are deluged by many street hustlers. Several offer to, “Show round town, mister!” as they rub fingers together signaling “for cash,” or so we take it. No, thank you! (Wanderer, page 131)

All the people wear long gowns. All the women have their heads covered. All the men wear simple caps. This is truly an exotic new world for me. (Wanderer, page 131)

Ali then takes us through some merchant shops in the general marketplace. He acts as our guide trying to sell us the wares. We just keep moving, oblivious of Ali’s sales pitch. We continue walking through the old market with small winding streets. (Wanderer, page 134)

Casablanca, Morocco

Casablanca―we are staying in a cheap hotel in a low down area of this huge Moroccan city. Good enough for us. Price is right. The men are smoking their keif, a cut marijuana product, in long thin pipes with a clay bowl. (Wanderer, page 136)

I feel like I’m in some fairy tale of Arabian Nights. To simply feel the flow of this life here has become a semi-religious experience for me. I am filled with awe and wonder―a deep curiosity to learn more, experience more, to understand others on a soul level. I am a wanderer―free to be! (Wanderer, page 136)

Everywhere in cafés they drink the ubiquitous mint green tea and smoke keif. The indigenous Moroccan music of fluttering flutes and pounding drum beats fills the air. (Wanderer, page 136)

After a couple of days wandering around Casablanca, we decide to go to Marrakesh. We are presently sitting on a rickety train in second class as the railroad cars roll down the tracks, taking us to our next destination. (Wanderer, page 137)

Marrakesh, Morocco

Marrakesh is a beautiful city, although I’ve only seen a bit of it. This whole Moroccan land is a wonder of exotic proportions. The culture is so unusual and foreign to me, as well as a constant challenge to understand. (Wanderer, page 138)

I’m on the roof of a very strange hotel in Marrakesh, filled with an assortment of many other Western tourist types―from the hippy crowd to the well-to-do. Throw in the Moroccans that work here and it is quite a mix of humanity. This place is called the Hotel Essaouira. (Wanderer, page 138)

The sounds of flutes and Arabic music percolate from all directions. I find a djellaba I like in a market stall garment shop. The djellaba is the dominant gown of the Moroccan men. I try a dark brown outfit on, fitting it over my head and pulling down. It fits nice and loose. I purchase the djellaba and a leather shoulder bag. I aim to fit in better in this society. (Wanderer, page 140)

The market here is just incredible with its large open square, partitioned with stalls of food and sundry items. I take a wandering walk into the great Marrakesh market. As I walk around and explore I discover an entry point to a subset of the greater market―the Berber market. (Wanderer, page 141)

At the other end of the spectrum, the beauty of this place is the utterly fantastic mystery that exudes from the land and the customs of the people. Old men chant in Arabic directly into my ears as we pass each other in the market place. (Wanderer, page 139)

Essaouira, Morocco

I take a dip in the cold sea. It is salty, rough and invigorating, with powerful waves that nearly knock me down as I walk back into shore . . . Tomorrow I’m moving into a house with my commune of fellow travelers. (Wanderer, page 149)

I look out at the gray Atlantic Ocean with the sun occasionally peaking through the overcast skies. Two cargo ships float out on the ocean’s horizon. Moroccan children play in the sand on the beach, running in and out of the water at the shoreline. It is a surreal scene. (Wanderer, page 149)

There is a lot of mystery and magic in this unique white city by the sea. I came here because this old town of Essaouira was spoken of highly by my fellow travelers, and now I see why. There is something very engaging about this place. (Wanderer, page 149)

Eileen and I meet up on the rocks in front of the city wall. We have just smoked some hashish together in a water pipe and shared some tea with the two Moroccans who work here and live on the second floor. (Wanderer, page 152)

She pulls away from me and walks into the ocean, still calling for me. I walk out in the water trailing her, afraid she might drown herself. I need to watch over her as she may be a danger to herself. Eileen is now up to her waist level and I am starting to freak. (Wanderer, page 154)

Fez, Morocco

We are in a cheap hotel in the old market area in Fez. Actually, we are in a place that is referred to as the Medina. What a very unique place. Groovy, man! (Wanderer, Page 169)

Fez is separated into three parts: the old, walled city, the French-created Ville Nouvelle, and the new Fez. The Medina in the ancient city, ‘the Medina of Fez el Bali,’ is said to be the largest contiguous car-free urban area in the world. (Wanderer, page 168)

In the heart of the Medina, when all the shops are open, the streets can be very difficult to get through. But the natives make it work, even with a loaded down donkey. (Wanderer, page 168)

The streets in these areas are very narrow. Scooters, bikes and motorcycles do come through occasionally. But mostly just people walk through the tight quarters of the streets, meandering through vendors stalls along the way. The streets are shaded from the burning noonday sun in this region that borders the Sahara Desert. (Wanderer, page 168)

It helps immensely that the people of Morocco have such hospitality, warmth and consideration to others, especially foreigners. Hospitality is an important value of the Moroccan people, as nearly everyone has treated me well. (Wanderer, page 168)

Taza, Morocco

We disembark at the train station in Taza. As we walk into the town, a vehicle pulls up with two cops inside, Karam and Zahil. (Wanderer, page 171)

“We have an extra room with two beds. You will be safe,” says Karam, pointing to the badge pinned to his chest on his cop uniform. I look at Nancy for approval, but she meets my look with an antsy nervousness. I ignore her timid nature. (Wanderer, page 171)

I surveyed the smooth mountains that appeared more like sloping hills trailing to the green valley below, extending the countryside to the horizon line as far as I could see from our bedroom view. Wow! What a majestic sight! The valley is green with many trees, crops and homes ringing all around the sloping sides. Our elevation on high takes in everything. I can even see some ancient ruins. (Wanderer, page 173)

Oujda, Morocco

The ride to Oujda is grueling down the dry dusty roads. (Wanderer, page 175)

We are now at the border town. We depart the bus and hoist our backpacks. The small town doesn’t have much to offer. We just need a place to sleep and a bite to eat. (Wanderer, page 175)

View Attributions

Flikr: Tetuan - city view 1
Wikipedia: Tetuan - souk (market)
Wikipedia: Tetuan-panarama
Flikr: Casablanca - street scene
Flikr: Casablanca - Market on street
Flikr: Casablanca - train station
Flikr: Casablanca - Tea Room & music 2nd floor
Dreamstime: Marrakesh - market dreamstime
Flikr: Marrakesh - market wares
Flikr: Marrakesh - Hotel courtyard
Flikr: Marrakesh - daytime market
Flikr: Marrakesh-Performers in Market
Flikr: Marrakesh-women shopping
Flikr: Essaouira - docks & ships
Flikr: Essaouira - city beach & sea
Flikr: Essaouira - fortified city wall
Flikr: Essaouira-camel sleeping on beach
Flikr: Essaouira-boats at port
Flikr: Essaouira-shopping street
Flikr: Fez - market dye pots
Flikr: Fez - Aerial View of city
Flikr: Fez - ancient walls
Flikr: Fez-old market street
Flikr: Fez-Mint Tea Service
Google Images: Ouijda - View of city
Google Images: Ouijda - city closeup
Flikr: Taza - city view with ancient wall
Google Images: Taza - Train station
Google Images: Taza - Police Station