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.