The wonderful marvels of Morocco

Friendly yet mildly aggressive stall-owners, blue walls, history, rich food, colourful houses, and brilliant mosaics. That is the Morocco that is sold to you. And largely, these images could be true. But, perhaps from an unfortunate series of events, I got to appreciate a wholly different side of Morocco but one, in my experience, gives a fuller appreciation of the city and to what 'luxuries' I have been gifted with in Canada.

Work

Morocco for sale

A few months ago, and a few weeks before completing my traineeship in Germany, I decided to travel to Morocco - to see everything that I was convinced I'd see coming off the awfully nice travel websites.  Already full swing into my European travels, I ended taking a plane on Ryanair from Bergamo, Italy to Fes, Morocco.  And because I did very little research into how I was getting from the airport to the Medina, I ended up waiting for atleast one hour in the burning sun - along with other backpackers - for the bus on the side of the dusty road. Since I really hadn't had any real summer (apart from those sweltering few weeks in May when I everyday became a fight not to suffocate underneath the blanket of heat that had settled itself onto Freiburg), I was amazingly still gung ho about the heat. Imagine seeing palm trees in October! AMMMMAAAZING :)

Market

Like any airport with Ryanair - this one was located quite far from the city. Finally, I took up residence within the walls of the old city - but closer to the border than the centre.  There is no comparison with any other cities than I have seen.  Shanghai, China perhaps comes close but that would be a different story. The city literally seems to implode on itself. The streets are a mish-mash of alleys and alleys mixed with false streets mixed with side paths leading to a market. Sometimes, if you look towards the sky you could see just enough of a sliver to tell you what time of the day it was. In those parts, the roads narrow and are not paved well or even at all.  Every step is in precarious danger of stepping over someone's (quite frequently), being run over by the half-dozen human powered carts barrelling down the maze of alleys, stepping into something unsavoury, or twisting your ankle on some jutting rock.  Some paths are literally strewn with refuse. There is some logic, I suppose, to the maze of paths - I've been told that you could easily walk to the centre within 15 minutes IF you knew which paths to take.

All dried up

From my window: Good-bye Fes

Fes must have been a lovely place - before the water started running out.  There are many public fountains (looking just like in the picture to the left) scattered all over the city from where locals draw their water - often their only source of water.  There is only one to serve every so blocks - so when one dries out then you'd need to walk to the next for water.  During my stay, I saw alot of dried up wells and, I suspect, this sight would be quite common in the city.  At least the people have jobs. And this obvious fact is true - shops seem to teem with activity of man and children busying themselves with tools and the tricks of their trades. But the work that they do is misleading. There is often no other choice - pursuing higher education stands no chance against poverty. So they work.

The entire trip to Morocco has given me more food for thought than I'd imagined it would. Maybe it was tourist syndrome or that, for once, I held onto my camera (actually for safety reasons - stuff gets stolen if your not careful) and actually saw my surroundings instead of snapping away everywhere I went.  In summary, my trip has left me with the feeling that I, like looking in from behind a window, have barely glimpsed at what the real Morocco is and what conditions are really like for the people who live there everyday.

I now am supremely appreciative of running hot water.