Anyone who has been following my blog may have been disappointed by the lack of a concluding post. Well, better late than never, so here it is.
Our final week was spent in Marrakesh, the urban cultural heart of Morocco. Many of the events that filled these last days have already begun to fade into imperfect recollections ... this is less likely because they were unremarkable than they have been overshadowed by the grand finale that has since dominated my memories.
After an (admittedly tiring) 5 month existence as dirty and penny-pinching nomads, we treated ourselves to two final nights of comfort in the trendy, yet thoroughly Moroccan Riad Akka. We celebrated our last night with a deliciously extravagant dinner complete with Moroccan wine and belly dancers. Unbeknownst to me, the night's highlight (actually, the trip's highlight to be precise) was yet to come. Back at the riad, Russell concluded the night with a question that stunned me through and through and flooded me with girly, giddy excitement with the thought of a lifetime together.
So if you haven't yet figured it out, we are engaged!!!!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
America the beautiful?
Now that our trip is quickly wrapping up, I realize that one of the most fascinating and eye-opening aspects of our experience has been the variable responses people give after learning that we're from the U.S. Whether these destinations don't see many Americans or we just don't perfectly fit the American stereotype, I can't be sure; but for some reason there's almost always a dominant element of surprise in the reaction. Then after this initial shock ... the fun begins.
Starting east in Japan and China, our interactions with locals were unfortunately minimal, probably a combined result of language barriers and relatively reserved cultures. However, as we've migrated westward communication has become increasingly free and frequent, notably in Egypt and Morocco. Here in Morocco, after several incorrect guesses of "Français? Allemand? Anglais?" our "Non, Américain" is frequently greeted with "Vous êtes les bienvenus!" (You are welcome!) But it's hard not to cringe when this is followed, all too often, by "Great country" or "America - number one", always delivered with a poorly concealed tone of sarcasm. Alternatively, they'll immediately guess that we're from New York, California, Washington or whatever other U.S. location they've heard of. The other night we even got a curious "What part of America? Canada?".
Equally common is the politically based response. If the international community had any say in American politics, Bush would have been impeached long ago and Obama would be a shoe-in for November. Sometimes the first and only comment we hear from taxi drivers, shopkeepers, etc. are some variant of "Bush - very bad" or an anticipatory "Obama will win?!" Russell has a great pic of a typical Tanzanian painting and accompanying graffiti promoting "Obama for president" (yes, you should definitely pressure him to post it on Flicker). Just last night, while wandering through the night festivities at Djemaa el Fna in Marrakesh, we stumbled across a vendor selling a toy "911" figurine set of Bush in a tank in hot military pursuit of Bin Laden.
Three particular experiences come to mind that exemplify the unpredictable and often entertaining global impressions of American society that we've encountered ...
America .... It's not America
Considering the financial obstacles and immigration restrictions our country imposes, a visit to the U.S. is an impractical dream for much of the non-Western world. We recently met one Moroccan who had somehow (don't ask how he managed to get a visa) just returned from an extended trip to California, Arizona and New York. His overall impressions seemed positive, as he loved San Francisco and San Diego and likened Arizona to M'Hamid, the desert village he calls home. Great - one point for the states! However, the sadly amusing part of the encounter was his interpretation that California and Arizona "are not America". Since his positive experiences in these states were incongruous with his expectations, he reasoned that these states must be the anomaly, rather than the stereotype being faulty.
America ... racist and perverse
Morocco seems to have a disproportionate number of male students, many impressively in touch with - or at least interested in - western culture. The receptionist at our hotel in Ourzazate, a college student of American society, is one example of education gone wrong. Throughout the course of our conversation, he eagerly shared his expertise on America's one-dimensional attitude towards foreigners. Namely, we don't like them. Apparently, we would like nothing better than to completely close our borders to all immigrants and would never welcome visitors with the same hospitality and tolerance extended by Moroccans (okay, so maybe this isn't entirely off). He continued with a disturbingly fascinated inquiry into ... surrogacy of all things. He had learned the term in the context of American culture and despite our explanation otherwise, believed it to be a common practice in the states, where love, sex and marriage are bound by no rules.
America ... seriously?! No way!
In the village near Todra Gorge, where we passed two wonderful days, word spreads fast and even tourists cannot remain strangers for long. For example, in a shared taxi ride our second day, the driver and two of the four other passengers were men we had met on prior occasions. By consequence of his limited French skills, the driver had assumed we were French and, although not unfriendly, treated us with relative indifference. Just as we were preparing to leave the taxi he learned from another passenger than we were not in fact French, but American. He immediately burst into excited chatter and became an instant friend. American?! What time did we need a ride to the bus station tomorrow? He would pick us up from our hotel. Did we email? We must exchange email addresses. Misunderstanding my apology for not having small change as a statement that I was poor, he graciously tried to refuse payment for our ride to the gorge. In so many countries our nationality has been synonymous with expendable wealth, to which many feel naturally entitled. But this man was somehow blind to the image of American riches and embraced us with a fundamentally human welcome and understanding ... Almost too much for my jaded traveller's mind to grasp.
Starting east in Japan and China, our interactions with locals were unfortunately minimal, probably a combined result of language barriers and relatively reserved cultures. However, as we've migrated westward communication has become increasingly free and frequent, notably in Egypt and Morocco. Here in Morocco, after several incorrect guesses of "Français? Allemand? Anglais?" our "Non, Américain" is frequently greeted with "Vous êtes les bienvenus!" (You are welcome!) But it's hard not to cringe when this is followed, all too often, by "Great country" or "America - number one", always delivered with a poorly concealed tone of sarcasm. Alternatively, they'll immediately guess that we're from New York, California, Washington or whatever other U.S. location they've heard of. The other night we even got a curious "What part of America? Canada?".
Equally common is the politically based response. If the international community had any say in American politics, Bush would have been impeached long ago and Obama would be a shoe-in for November. Sometimes the first and only comment we hear from taxi drivers, shopkeepers, etc. are some variant of "Bush - very bad" or an anticipatory "Obama will win?!" Russell has a great pic of a typical Tanzanian painting and accompanying graffiti promoting "Obama for president" (yes, you should definitely pressure him to post it on Flicker). Just last night, while wandering through the night festivities at Djemaa el Fna in Marrakesh, we stumbled across a vendor selling a toy "911" figurine set of Bush in a tank in hot military pursuit of Bin Laden.
Three particular experiences come to mind that exemplify the unpredictable and often entertaining global impressions of American society that we've encountered ...
America .... It's not America
Considering the financial obstacles and immigration restrictions our country imposes, a visit to the U.S. is an impractical dream for much of the non-Western world. We recently met one Moroccan who had somehow (don't ask how he managed to get a visa) just returned from an extended trip to California, Arizona and New York. His overall impressions seemed positive, as he loved San Francisco and San Diego and likened Arizona to M'Hamid, the desert village he calls home. Great - one point for the states! However, the sadly amusing part of the encounter was his interpretation that California and Arizona "are not America". Since his positive experiences in these states were incongruous with his expectations, he reasoned that these states must be the anomaly, rather than the stereotype being faulty.
America ... racist and perverse
Morocco seems to have a disproportionate number of male students, many impressively in touch with - or at least interested in - western culture. The receptionist at our hotel in Ourzazate, a college student of American society, is one example of education gone wrong. Throughout the course of our conversation, he eagerly shared his expertise on America's one-dimensional attitude towards foreigners. Namely, we don't like them. Apparently, we would like nothing better than to completely close our borders to all immigrants and would never welcome visitors with the same hospitality and tolerance extended by Moroccans (okay, so maybe this isn't entirely off). He continued with a disturbingly fascinated inquiry into ... surrogacy of all things. He had learned the term in the context of American culture and despite our explanation otherwise, believed it to be a common practice in the states, where love, sex and marriage are bound by no rules.
America ... seriously?! No way!
In the village near Todra Gorge, where we passed two wonderful days, word spreads fast and even tourists cannot remain strangers for long. For example, in a shared taxi ride our second day, the driver and two of the four other passengers were men we had met on prior occasions. By consequence of his limited French skills, the driver had assumed we were French and, although not unfriendly, treated us with relative indifference. Just as we were preparing to leave the taxi he learned from another passenger than we were not in fact French, but American. He immediately burst into excited chatter and became an instant friend. American?! What time did we need a ride to the bus station tomorrow? He would pick us up from our hotel. Did we email? We must exchange email addresses. Misunderstanding my apology for not having small change as a statement that I was poor, he graciously tried to refuse payment for our ride to the gorge. In so many countries our nationality has been synonymous with expendable wealth, to which many feel naturally entitled. But this man was somehow blind to the image of American riches and embraced us with a fundamentally human welcome and understanding ... Almost too much for my jaded traveller's mind to grasp.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
du Maroc
I've just returned from a morning run through Todra Gorge, along a magnificent route beneath towering rocky cliffs and past the occasional goat herd. (No, there's no internet here ... I actually pre-date those rare posts composed in remote deserts, mountains, etc.) Naturally, my blood is filled with endorphins and my mind with awe. It's day six in Morocco and I don't know where to begin with the multitude of reasons I love this country. In all honesty, when we arrived from Egypt traveler's fatigue had set in deeply and the task of adapting to yet another country felt more daunting than usual. But my weariness has been successfully abolished by the warmest of welcomes and the richness of Moroccan culture.
This country has a definite advantage over the previous six we've visited in gaining my favor: they speak French. For the first time I need not rely on others' knowledge of English and can finally communicate in their - almost - native tongue. (Arabic is the official and most widely spoken language, which I tragically do not speak.) Not only is it just pure fun to revive my dormant French skills, but everything is rendered much more pleasant when coated in a French accent. The cries of "Où allez-vous?" and "Qu'est-ce que vous cherchez?" fail to annoy like their English equivalents.
Relative to most of the countries from which we've come, Morocco is an absolute oasis of beauty, cleanliness and kindness. On one level, the colors and intricacies of the majestic mosques and riads are aesthetic wonders. This architectural beauty is complemented by the stunning mountains, desserts - and now - this unearthly gorge! But undoubtedly Morocco's greatest asset is its people. I can confidently say that we've been befriended by more locals here than during the entire rest of our travels. On countless occasions has a friendly "Bonjour" evolved into an extended chat session with young locals about travel, music, work, you name it - always accompanied by a generous offering of thé à la menthe (or whisky berbère as they affectionately call it). In refreshing contrast to similar experiences outside Morocco, only one such encounter here was spawned by a subtle sales pitch for some camel hair rugs and cactus silk linens. As a friend from the gorge put it, "Il y a des hommes et des omelettes". By staying open and resisting those omelette tendencies, I've discovered ample opportunities to make a friend, glimpse into "real" Moroccan life and of course, refine my rusty French conversation skills.
This country has a definite advantage over the previous six we've visited in gaining my favor: they speak French. For the first time I need not rely on others' knowledge of English and can finally communicate in their - almost - native tongue. (Arabic is the official and most widely spoken language, which I tragically do not speak.) Not only is it just pure fun to revive my dormant French skills, but everything is rendered much more pleasant when coated in a French accent. The cries of "Où allez-vous?" and "Qu'est-ce que vous cherchez?" fail to annoy like their English equivalents.
Relative to most of the countries from which we've come, Morocco is an absolute oasis of beauty, cleanliness and kindness. On one level, the colors and intricacies of the majestic mosques and riads are aesthetic wonders. This architectural beauty is complemented by the stunning mountains, desserts - and now - this unearthly gorge! But undoubtedly Morocco's greatest asset is its people. I can confidently say that we've been befriended by more locals here than during the entire rest of our travels. On countless occasions has a friendly "Bonjour" evolved into an extended chat session with young locals about travel, music, work, you name it - always accompanied by a generous offering of thé à la menthe (or whisky berbère as they affectionately call it). In refreshing contrast to similar experiences outside Morocco, only one such encounter here was spawned by a subtle sales pitch for some camel hair rugs and cactus silk linens. As a friend from the gorge put it, "Il y a des hommes et des omelettes". By staying open and resisting those omelette tendencies, I've discovered ample opportunities to make a friend, glimpse into "real" Moroccan life and of course, refine my rusty French conversation skills.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
