The Hamam

Last Friday I took my firtst venture to the Hamam, a place where men and women go (separately might I add) to get nakie and rub off dead skin and get clean. Melissa took both Anne and me to a Hamam in Agdal. So I get there feeling confident and excited about getting off all my dead skin that had been progressively falling off for weeks prior. I was a little shocked by the fact that the instant I walked into the Hamam I saw naked bodies. Usually in the US, you have a couple of rooms that you walk into to warm up before you get naked, not directly by the entrance. So we walked in and I took off my clothes slowly but surely. Then we had to take a little bar of soap in with us to lather ourselves before the rub down. The temperature was not too hot not too cool, just right. Appparently it is usually very hot, but I rather enjoyed the cooler temp. Once us girls lathered ourself, the Moroccan scrubber came in to wash us down. First Anne. The woman uses a glove that feels like sand paper to scrape off all the dead skin, and I noticed Anne felt a bit uncomfortable so I was preparing myself for the rub down. Yeah! I am next. The woman started with my arms. Ok, Not bad but a little rough, but doable. Then she did my pits. I couldn't help but giggle (I am really ticklish). Then she had me lay down which I thought would be really relaxing until she started throwing me around the mat slipping from side to side. I felt like a fish being packed up in a can. Then she proceded to grab my underwear and lodge it between my ass cheeks, not the most comfortable position. After that, she scrubbed down my bum and my legs once again throwing them down. I saw chunks and chunks of skin flying off my body as I was flying along the mat. Finally, she did my feet which were blackened from all my Moroccan activities. Then she threw buckets of water in my face and on my body rinsing off the layers of dead skin. I felt sparkly, clean and confident after my rub down, and despite the fact that she threw me around and lodged my underwear into me bum, I really enjoyed the Hamam.

Happy Cow Cheese: A Tribute

I just want to say that "Laughing cow cheese" or as I call it "happy cow" because what laughing cow wouldn't be happy, is the best invention in the world of food. I really love cheese, but this is a special kind of cheese that is a beautiful harmony of butter and cheese kind of resembling and tasting like cream cheese but better, so it spreads perfectly across bread or a croissant or even a mouth. Today, my friend and I boldly ate the cheese without anything to spread it on, and it felt as smooth as silk on my tongue. No regrets. MMMmmmmm. Every time I see that triangle with a smiling red cow on it, I cannot help but get a little bit excited. I know it is not a Moroccan invention, but this cheese has complimented and enriched my time here in Morocco, and I will always associate this wonder with Morocco, a true diamond in the rough it is.

Happy Cow Cheese: A Tribute

I just want to say that "Laughing cow cheese" or as I call it "happy cow" because what laughing cow wouldn't be happy, is the best invention in the world of food. I really love cheese, but this is a special kind of cheese that is a beautiful harmony of butter and cheese kind of resembling and tasting like cream cheese but better, so it spreads perfectly across bread or a croissant or even a mouth. Today, my friend and I boldly ate the cheese without anything to spread it on, and it felt as smooth as silk on my tongue. No regrets. MMMmmmmm. Every time I see that triangle with a smiling red cow on it, I cannot help but get a little bit excited. I know it is not a Moroccan invention, but this cheese has complimented and enriched my time here in Morocco, and I will always associate this wonder with Morocco, a true diamond in the rough it is.

Fes

This last weekend, I went to Fes and stayed with a family of one of my coworkers. It was really interesting to see the dynamics of a Moroccan family. They were very generous and fed us well, making tagine and pastilla as well as freshly squeezed oj (my favorite part of Morocco). I was struck more than anything by the youngest member of the family, Omar. He is 17 years old but looks like he is 8. He was born with a disability and is non-verbal. When he saw the four of us guests, at first, he seemed wary but after a while he came closer and eventually held our hand or gave us a high five. His brother,Mehdi, was very kind and sweet with him, but the fact remains that all day long Omar spent his time pushing himself around in an office chair with wheels and watched television. I was disturbed by the fact that the mother told me that there are absolutely no programs or opportunities for Omar to get involved in. It made me think about the population of people with disabilties around the world. Numerous times since I have been in Morocco, I have seen men and women without legs who hoist themselves intot a bus, climbing the stairs with their fists and managing to lift their wheelchair into the bus. Many people with disabilities who needs wheelchairs in the developing world do not even have the option of getting one. This travesty neglects a population of individuals that have a lot to offer the world and touch the lives of others but are not given th opportunity to integrate into society and be involved in programs. Granted, I know that infrastructure is an issue, and that Morocco is a developing nation, but people with disabilities tend to be last on the priority list in any country. Omar's mother is an example of an individual that is good to her child and gives him the most that she can, but that is limited. He needs opportunities and programs that will better his life and his abilities. That should be an option in every nation in the world, but there is a long long way to go to give people like Omar the opportunity to live a good life. I hope that one day he does have opportunity.

The World Cup

Last Friday, I played in my own World Cup game with the other Americans and a Mexican and a Dutchman against seven Moroccans. Us Americans/Mexican/Dutchman lost, but the game was a blast, tiring but fun. Different than any American game. It was on gravel, which posed some issues for me, considering how much I fall during a soccer game. Needless to say, I came off the field bleeding at the end of the game. The Moroccans had mad skills and great spirits, but more than anything, I felt a commradery during the game. During the game, there were ten year old Moroccan boys cheering for another American girl and myself and chanting our names. The boys and the players were full of life and spirit, and I felt that spirit, despite being exhausted, throughout the game. Despite language and cultural barriers, the game and the spirit of the game evoked a form of communication and friendship. We smiled, laughed, yelled, and fell, and after the game was over we shook hands, and I felt a warmth from each player, one that I do not feel could have been reached without soccer. It is funny how such a simple activity could mean so much. Soccer is the most popular sport in the world, I think because it has the ability to bring people closer together in a kind of cross-cultural bond. There are just those rare moments in life when you feel close to people without communicating with them, and in this case, the game was that bridge for me. It makes me think that development and/or building bridges between countries and peoples should be facilitated, not through politics or language or even NGO's, but simply through soccer. I know I am simplifying it, but maybe sometimes it is that simple because every individual has that spirit; we just have to find ways to connect them. I have played soccer for 15 years, and I have never had so much fun playing the game that I have loved so much. Surprisingly, it has been one of the highlights of my time here in Morocco and an experience that I will cherish for years to come.

The World Cup

Last Friday, I played in my own World Cup game with the other Americans and a Mexican and a Dutchman against seven Moroccans. Us Americans/Mexican/Dutchman lost, but the game was a blast, tiring but fun. Different than any American game. It was on gravel, which posed some issues for me, considering how much I fall during a soccer game. Needless to say, I came off the field bleeding at the end of the game. The Moroccans had mad skills and great spirits, but more than anything, I felt a commradery during the game. During the game, there were ten year old Moroccan boys cheering for another American girl and myself and chanting our names. The boys and the players were full of life and spirit, and I felt that spirit, despite being exhausted, throughout the game. Despite language and cultural barriers, the game and the spirit of the game evoked a form of communication and friendship. We smiled, laughed, yelled, and fell, and after the game was over we shook hands, and I felt a warmth from each player, one that I do not feel could have been reached without soccer. It is funny how such a simple activity could mean so much. Soccer is the most popular sport in the world, I think because it has the ability to bring people closer together in a kind of cross-cultural bond. There are just those rare moments in life when you feel close to people without communicating with them, and in this case, the game was that bridge for me. It makes me think that development and/or building bridges between countries and peoples should be facilitated, not through politics or language or even NGO's, but simply through soccer. I know I am simplifying it, but maybe sometimes it is that simple because every individual has that spirit; we just have to find ways to connect them. I have played soccer for 15 years, and I have never had so much fun playing the game that I have loved so much. Surprisingly, it has been one of the highlights of my time here in Morocco and an experience that I will cherish for years to come.

The Circus

What could be cooler than the Moroccan circus? A circus is really cool in itself, but a Moroccan circus would be heaven on earth. Well, last night, I thought it would be really fun to go, so I left my apartment to meet my friends there, only to get yelled at in Arabic by the taxi driver and the man sitting next to me. Ended up getting ripped off and paid 20 dirhams for the ride. Once I met my friends, we got some food and started to be followed by a creepy looking blond guy with a jean jacket. Should have known by the jacket and the greased hair that he was bad news bears. After eating some food, we were approached by a huge group of kids. They started grabbing and hanging on us and crowding around. So the creepy guy thought it necessary to shove and push the kids out of the way. He threw one kid on the ground. Great bodyguard until things got a little weirder. Once clearing the kids away, he preceded to tell us that he did not have a passport and was in love with Avril Lavigne. I know whack job, right? So, at this point we were fed up and started to walk away when we noticed that he was motioning to shoot us. He followed us as we booked it to find a taxi. He did not have a gun of course, but it was pretty scary. Needless to say, I never did see the circus. And I realized that there are some angry people in this world, for one reason or another. Maybe this guy really did have a love affair with Avril or maybe he hated us because we were American and could not get him into the US. It made me wonder whether or not those people can be reached or reasoned with. I would like to think so, but I just don't know. Sadly, whatever has happened in their lives has effected them to the core and they have built up a wall. How do we take down that wall when there are so many barriers?

The Big Wave

On the way down to Essouira for the Music Festival, the posse made a stop at a beautiful beach. I was enthralled and entranced by the beautiful waves and clear waters. So I, along with a few of my compadres, walked to the water's edge where there were beautiful rock formations on the shore. I am from Colorado, so the most water I ever get to see is in my own shower. As I walked out further I could feel the sea breeze on my face and relaxed to the sounds of the waves. My friend asked me to turn around for the perfect photo opp. So, I turned around flashing my best and brightest smile for the pic, only to have mother nature kick my ass. The wave hit me from behind knocking me off balance. It was too late, and I went under, soaked by the wave. My camera, my purse, my pride, all soaked by the beasts of the water. I struggled to get up, and finally a nice local man helped me up to my feet. With my leg bleeding and the shear embarassment of it all, I realized that us Coloradans are better off on the mainland.

Monkey Men

I went to Marrakech last weekend with the roomies. It was a really fun and interesting experience. When I first got to the square I was attacked by the monkey men, they carry around monkeys and throw them on the tourists' shoulders, inevitably leading your friends to take pictures of the event. I was so excited that there were monkeys on my shoulders, in complete awe of the creatures that I didn't think about the men ripping me off. But after removing the monkeys from my shoulders, the men demanded 100 dirhams!!! They started aggressively pushing me demanding the money. Instead I compromised and gave them twenty which really angered them, especially when they saw a hundred dirham bill in my wallet. Well I did get away after I gave them the money and I realized that monkey men are not to be trusted and that I cannot get so excited over monkeys and other touristy things. But I did realize that people are just trying to make their way in the world, whether they carry monkeys or build houses or sell goods at the market. They will do what it takes to survive, and for that I can relate to them and understand that, like me, they want security. So even though, I am not fond of the monkey men, I realize that they are just trying to survive day by day.