Today is Sunday, which is the day of the weekly souk (market) in Mohammedia.  I think at some point it was the main shopping opportunity for the week, but there are now many small stores, a daily market, and even a “European market” called Marjane, which is basically like a Super-Walmart, selling all kinds of food as well as housewares and electronics.  I think Marjane is too expensive for the average Moroccan family…I haven’t been there yet on this trip but when I go I’ll report back on who is shopping there.

We drove by the location of the souk yesterday and it was completely deserted.  Today there were hundreds of vendors and countless shoppers.  It’s like a giant flea market except with very narrow paths, lots of yelling, and unexpected animal parts, like rows of brains, displays of cows’ feet, tongues, etc.  The souk is roughly divided into an area for fruit and vegetables, meats, spices, housewares, clothes, and gold.  Mixed in there were vendors selling mint tea, roasted chick peas, fresh bread, sandwiches, hardware and car parts, and corn being grilled right on the ground beside the walkway – yikes!

It feels totally chaotic, and the street beside the souk is filled with people, donkey carts, scooters, and cars flying by.  I’m a wanderer so I had no problem meandering through the market checking out the options, but Ben was on a mission.  His sisters said that they didn’t need anything, so his mission was to get all of my picture-taking done.  I realized right away that whenever possible, it’s easiest to buy a little something and then ask if it’s ok to take a photo.  I have never been turned down for a photo when I’ve bought something.  So we bought mint, parsley, salt, candy, squash, tea, and roasted chick peas.  When I was alone and I approached someone, especially a young person, and asked in Arabic if I could take a photo, they all said “yes”.

The tough nuts to crack are the butchers.  They have really interesting displays of meat – no refrigeration…the animals are blessed and killed in the morning and sold the same day.  They sell every part of the animal.  The parts that can’t be sold are given to beggars who go stall-to-stall asking for a handout.  Since we’re never shopping for meat, we can’t use the purchase technique to get a photo.  Last time I was at the souk, I asked several butchers if I could take a photo and they all said no.  Finally one shop allowed me to take some photos, and I shocked them by whipping out a small battery-operated printer and printing their photos for them on an abandoned butcher’s table.  After that the entire souk was calling me to take their photo as word got around.

Today when we were walking through the butchers’ area I spotted a familiar face and he recognized us at the same time.  It was the butcher who let me take his photo 6 years ago.  He let me take some more photos, and I’m going to print them and bring them back next week.  I even have the original ones on my external hard drive.  It was surreal to see him again but things don’t change much here.  I’m going to print some of the other photos from today too and if I see the vendors again I will give them their photos.  It’s a good way to make friends.

The street that passes the souk:

Donkeys are used A LOT:

Mint tea…this guy was really upset that Ben gave him 20 dirhams ($2.24) because it was too much.

Giant squash:

Salt:

More photos from today on the following post.  The computer’s giving me trouble.

Saffron:

Chicken peas and fava beans:

Pesticides and rat poisons:

Honeycomb:

Hardware store:

One of the many tents for the gold merchants:

Dates and nuts:

Roasting corn:

Holy crap that’s a lot of carrots!

Fresh bread:

Norah didn’t know what to make of the cows’ feet:

Tripe and assorted goodies:

Group photo with our butcher friends:

I got to hold the knife:

The wagon back to town (we took a taxi):

The souk is a dusty place:

Today we got up early and went to Rabat, the capital of Morocco.  It’s about a 45-minute drive, and Ben’s uncle Abdullah has apparently become our personal driver because he went with us again today and is also planning to come along to Marrakech.  It’s nice to have someone who knows where they’re going because the driving can be a little crazy.

In Rabat we visited the Mausoleum of King Mohammed V, and La Tour (Tower) Hassan.  The pillars in the courtyard of the minaret are what’s left of a huge mosque that was destroyed in an earthquake.  The mausoleum is beautifully decorated with wood, stucco, and zellij mosaic, and of course the gorgeous bronze doors.

After touring the mausoleum we rode the new tram that crosses the river to Salé.  I had read about the medersa (school) and Grande Mosque within the Salé medina and was intent on finding them.  Ben didn’t want to ask anyone which stop to get off the tram, so we ended up going a couple of stops too far and making our way through the medina on foot.  I’ll bet we walked 5 miles in total, but it was worth it.  The school and mosque were built in 1333, and the school is extremely well-preserved (I couldn’t enter the mosque because I’m not Muslim).  We were able to go into the “student cells,” tiny rooms where the students lived.  The place was just about deserted, so the attendant showed me how to lock the front door (you’ll have to check my other blog in a couple of days for those photos).

Inside one of the tiny student cells:

Inside the mosque:

Salé from the roof:

We were sooo tired that we didn’t even stop for a late lunch…we just drove home and as usual had an amazing dinner waiting for us.  I could really get used to this!

Moments from today…

Passing a huge field of sunflowers beside the highway.

The welder who was just holding a little piece of plastic in front of his eyes instead of wearing a welding helmet.

Asking Uncle Abdullah what the men at the rotary had in their wheelbarrows – “cows’ stomachs.”

The amazing ocean view in Rabat, with shanties lining the road – pretty nice real estate for a shanty town.

A modern tunnel in Rabat – Ben was shocked.

Prior planning promotes perfect performance…lots of teachable moments today.

Seeing a guy holding down a mattress by laying on it in the back of a small pick-up truck.

Being asked to take photos of teenage boys, and unsuccessfully asking for their email addresses, until one of them suddenly said “Facebook?” and they all started repeating, “Facebook” and writing down their names for me.  Unfortunately their names are very common on Facebook and I can’t find them.

The school with chalkboards hanging out the windows…each student’s number was listed and showed who passed.

Aliya’s comment, “Those stairs are a fire hazard!”

Uncle Abdullah getting hip to my search for cool doors, and then showing me every door of interest along the way.  Through this archway I found my favorite:

Trying to explain to the kids why the beeping cars were driving through town with the “bloody rag” after the wedding, without stealing the thunder of the 5^th-grade health teacher.

The kids hunting for pieces of broken tile along the street – a cool collection!

Teaching the kids how to use the squat-toilet.  Norah was definitely not a fan.

The henna ladies who accosted us, told us they would do a little design on the girls for free despite our protests, and then b*tching when Ben gave them too little money.  The amount they were asking for their “free” designs would have paid for hands and feet in Mohammedia.  Annoying!

Today I worked until about 3 p.m., with a break for couscous at lunchtime.  For those of you who haven’t had Moroccan couscous and are wondering what all the fuss is about, I’m not talking about the boxes of couscous that you can buy from Stop and Shop and mix with water.

In Morocco, couscous is traditionally served every Friday, the end of the religious week.  The couscous, made from semolina, is the base of the dish, with vegetables piled on top of the hidden meat.  The idea is for everyone to fill up on couscous and vegetables, and the meat is saved for last.  The meat, vegetables, and spices are boiled in a broth in the bottom of a pot called a couscousiere, and the couscous is steamed above it.  It’s so delicious, even Adlani likes it (just the couscous, not the vegetables or meat, of course).

For scale, this bowl is about 24″ around (the potatoes are HUGE):

Late this afternoon we went to the moussem, a cultural festival where several hundred horses and riders in traditional clothing perform fantasia.  Fantasia involves a team of riders running from one end of the field to the other, stopping on a dime, and firing their muskets into the air.  The object is for the whole team to shoot their guns simultaneously.    Historically, fantasia is based on war-time attacks of Berber and desert knights.  Now it’s like a sport, or a martial art.  It’s really beautiful to see, with plenty of photo ops.

Aliya was a little freaked out being there because she didn’t like the guns and it was very close quarters with the horses, riders, tents, spectators, and merchants.  One horse fell during the line-up, and there were several horse-on-horse altercations.  The horses were all keyed up, and I can’t blame them, but to move around we had to walk right between the horses who were shackled to ropes.  The riders kept loading their guns and firing random shots so Aliya spent the whole time with her fingers in her ears.  In her journal she wrote that her favorite thing about the moussem was “leaving.”

I, on the other hand, had a great time.  I’m in my glory when there’s something cool to photograph, and I’m never lonely here because someone is always trying to talk to me.  And by that I mean someone who is trying to communicate in another language, not someone who’s trying to speak to me when I’m in the bathroom.

The spectator tent:

This place can’t be all bad – there’s cotton candy!!

I wonder what the handprint signifies…

My favorite saddle:

The older man in this photo posed several times and asked if I wanted to take his photo.  Each time he seemed to close his eyes on purpose, and kept them closed while I was taking photos.  Maybe he was trying to keep me from stealing his soul.

Each team has a tent for the riders:

This is the first time I’ve seen girls participating in fantasia:

Patiently waiting:

At the signal:

And they’re off!

After the moussem we had an impromptu trip to the beach, where we tried unsuccessfully to fly a kite.  The highlight of the beach was when a guy walked in front of us leading two camels, and then there was a ruckus and we turned to see a third camel chasing down its comrades.  It’s not every day you see a free-running camel.

Uncle Abdullah has the patience of a saint but we could not get that kite up.

Ben wandering into my sunset shot:

We also saw another heddia today, this time carrying food for a wedding.  A cow led the procession and I think he knew what was ahead because he was not very cooperative.  I’m sure he was on the menu for the wedding dinner.

The photos are at the bottom again!

I’m realizing how much like me Aliya is.  She keeps asking what time it is, where are we going next, who’s going with us, what’s for lunch…normally I’m all about the schedules and details because we are so overscheduled that I live in fear of missing something.  All day long Aliya has been asking questions and I’ve been telling her to “Just go with it.”

Life is different here, and I have slipped easily into the Moroccan way of life (while still working part of each day) .  This is my 6^th trip to Africa and I’m very family with “African Time.”  Things move much more slowly and people seem like they meander through life instead of racing from one thing to the next.  I like it.

Today we woke up at 10 a.m. (5 a.m. at home).  Our internal clocks are still messed up.  At least that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.  After breakfast the kids all started putting on their bathing suits and gathering up their pool-related paraphernalia…apparently we were going swimming.  Since my Arabic is very rusty I’m in the dark about what’s going on half the time.

Since we are here to work out my mother-in-law’s estate (she passed away last year), Ben has to get a government ID as part of that process.  He came to the US over 25 years ago and is a US citizen, but he needs this Moroccan card for some reason.  Adlani was out of sorts so Ben decided to go to the pool and I would stay home with Adlani.  Then a friend showed up to take Ben to the police station for something to do with the ID (at which point Ben asked me if I had a copy of our marriage certificate, and I stared at him with the stunned look of someone who was never told that a marriage certificate might be needed), so suddenly I was going to the pool and leaving Adlani home with my sisters-in-law.  Whatever…just go with it.

My brother-in-law drove us to the pool and paid the admission – 120 dirhams ($13.50) per adult and teenager, 70 dirhams ($8) per kid.  There was hardly anyone at the pool and we immediately realized why.  A woman followed us into the pool area and said that if we wanted to sit down, each lounge chair would cost 50 dirhams ($6), and we weren’t allowed to bring in any food or water.  We hardly had any food with us – just a few granola bars and a bottle of water.  Knowing that there were no “free” chairs in the place, why wouldn’t they have told us that when we paid our admission??  Annoying!  We got our money back and left on principle.    (Aliya: “Where are we going?!”  Me: “Just go with it.”)

We drove to another pool that was in the middle of nowhere, with a single-lane paved road shared by two-way traffic, bikes, motorcycles, pedestrians, donkeys pulling carts, sheep, cows, and various other animals.  Whenever two cars met, someone would have to pull off the road.

The pool was in a place called “Dream Village.”  They also had a small zoo and a café.  There were 5 pools of different depths, plus another pool with a bunch of slides.  The kids loved it and I had a great day of people-watching.  We didn’t have to pay extra for our lounge chairs and there were no rules about granola bars.  There were several bus groups that came and went, and at the end of the day all of the lifeguards started horsing around – jumping off the bridge, diving over a line of 3 friends, and doing various flips.  They kept sidling by me and one guy finally started speaking to me in English.  After the normal pleasantries he said, “I see that you enjoy watching us.”  Busted!  Was it that obvious??  🙂

We came home to another beautiful dinner of chicken, mashed potatoes, and several different salads.  More aunts and cousins showed up to visit and everyone is just sitting around chatting and enjoying the cool night air.  I only have 48 emails to answer and then I’ll be able to sit around too.  Just go with it.

The road to the pool:

Traffic jam:

Beautiful fields:

I have no idea why there is a plane up on blocks.

I think these tents are probably for the farm workers:

The water slides:

Racha (my nice from Holland):

Tissem (my niece from Morocco):

Amine (my nephew from Morocco):

Aliya:

3-person game of Chicken:

Can you spot the blondie?

Norah posing for an ad for Sprite:

Aliya and Racha:

Water gymnastics:

Not camera-shy:

Cool dude:

Me: “Line up for a picture.”  Norah: “I’ll be the one with my feet showing.”

Cousins!

This is what typical Moroccan teenagers look like (none of them are mine).

I thought this cage would have a giant pig in it but it had 2 porcupines, 1 albino.

I had mentioned that a mule was from a donkey and a horse mating, and I heard Aliya tell Norah, “This is when one parent is a horse and one parent is a goat.”

Out cold:

Another one bites the dust.  Apparently it’s legal to ride in the way-back.

Ben’s aunt just dug up this old photo of him (on the right).  Too bad I missed his six-pack!