Morocco Part 2

When I left you I had just left Marrakech to travel to my new home in Rabat. I travelled by train, the first of many train journeys to come over the next few weeks. I mention this because these train rides left a lasting impression. When I think about them, they are like a snapshot of parts of Moroccan culture I have truly grown to love. One thing that’s not so great is that the schedules are all over the place. Trains rarely leave or arrive on time and you have to account for that in your plans. Other than that though, a train ride in Morocco is a little snippet of culture. I don’t think there was a single time I travelled, be it in first or second class, that I didn’t end up having a conversation with my fellow passengers - and this includes those who didn’t speak English! We would communicate in broken French, a few words of Darija or in or own respective languages with the aid of hand signals and funny facial expressions. If you had food on the train you would almost always offer it around. Not just food, people also shared newspapers and pens, sprayed perfume on each other to cover up smells coming from outside the train, helped each other with their bags and enquired about each others well being. Coming from a culture where even eye contact on transport is avoided this was a world away from what I was used too but a welcome new reality and as a result, if you ever come across me travelling back in Aus - I will be that crazy talkative, food sharing, eye contact making chick you may want to avoid!

I arrived in Rabat and went straight to my orientation at my volunteering organisation. Here I learned I was to be placed teaching English at a foundation for Moroccan locals and African refugees - the unexpected part was these would all be adults (daunting much?!). After a great lunch with some of the other volunteers and our awesome co-ordinator Samad, all of us went into the depths of the Rabat Medina to meet my new host family. I arrived to find a small but beautiful apartment and inside were two lovely and kind looking ladies as well as Susan, a volunteer from Miami who had already been living and volunteering in Rabat for a few weeks before I arrived. On the way I was informed that my host family really only speak French and Darija but my new ‘host sister’ Susan luckily spoke French so would be able to help bridge the gap.

As Samad and the other new volunteers left, I knew I should be feeling anxious but the feel of the household put me immediately at ease. Susan soon explained to me that the two women we were living with were sisters. Although she had only been there a few weeks she clearly loved them and couldn’t speak highly enough about them. Also living in the apartment was one of their sons, a young gentleman in his 20s. Initially I didn’t understand how this would work. Susan and I shared the only bedroom. Beyond this, the apartment had two living areas a small kitchen and a toilet with a shower head directly over it. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, the place was immaculately kept and beautifully decorated, but I couldn’t immediately reconcile the number of people with the available space.

That soon changed! As night fell, pillows and blankets were pulled out of cupboards and the couches in both rooms were used as beds. Each morning these were neatly put away and the living areas returned to their perfectly kept states. After the first night this felt completely normal and in fact, somewhat welcome. The small living area meant our little family was in constant contact. It forced respect for each others space and privacy as well as prompted consideration of the use of common areas. Every meal would see us gather around the table in the middle of the room to eat some of the best food I have ever tasted! Always lovingly prepared, in large quantities with such variety that each dish was rarely repeated in a 4 week time period. Meal times were always full of laughs as we all did our best to communicate despite some language barriers - particularly mine! Often new vocabulary was self explanatory - Susan and myself could be chewing on the largest mouthful of food you have ever seen but that would not stop our ‘Mum’s’ from choosing that exact time to tell us to ‘mange!!’ or ‘coulis!!!’ (eat! eat!). Not only that but it didn’t take me long to realise that my side of the plate always seemed to be magically refilling because it actually was. If you looked away for a moment, one of our Mums would sneakily push some of their food onto our side of the bowl. This constant nourishment was great for my soul but not so good for my waistline!

It took all of about 2 days for me to fall in love with this family. And this fast and strong bond was not just with our ‘Mums’ but my new ‘host sister’ Susan also. On my second day Susan and I decided to ‘do as the locals do’ when it comes to keeping clean and visited our local hamam. Now I know you know I was a little scared off these in Turkey. This was possibly even more confronting. Susan and I were quickly made to strip down to nothing but our swimmers bottoms, ordered onto the floor of a big steamy bathhouse amongst many many other semi or completely naked women and scrubbed down with black soap by no nonsense professionals that loved to show us the long greyish coloured strips of skin they were removing! Needless to say, there were no secrets between Susan and I after that, we had seen each other at our worst - we could either love each other like sisters or never see each other again. We chose the former!

So I have been writing for sometime and haven’t even gotten to the reason I was in Morocco - my volunteering placement. I have never taught before and while I think I have a reasonable grasp of the English language the responsibility of translating this knowledge into hours of class structure and activity weighed heavily on me. I needn’t have worried. Between the guidance received from Susan’s few weeks of experience together with the most amazingly engaged and enthusiastic pupils one could ever hope for, the classes passed too quickly. They were filled with a constant exchange of culture as well as frequent laughter. I felt both humbled and proud to watch the students progress so quickly and without a doubt both Susan and I learned and gained as much if not more than the students did. It’s a topic I could write about for hours, but this entry is already a little on the long side so I will just say that the four weeks teaching these amazing young men and women gave me lots to think about and I’m counting the days until I can go back for a visit!

The weeks I spent in Morocco post the tour were packed full of more than just teaching and family time. Afternoons after class were spent exploring Rabat and hanging out with the other volunteers or students at the organisation that co-ordinated the program - having tea, trying not to shop, wandering the medina or having drinks at Le Dhow - an awesome bar on a boat! Weekends were spent travelling with old and new friends.

I returned to Marrakech several times and to Essaouira once, explored the crazy but beautiful city of Fes, spent a few unforgettable days wandering the famous blue city of Chefchaouen and so much more. No matter where I went I was astounded by Morocco’s beauty. The words ‘Wow that’s just so beautiful’ came out of my mouth as regularly and annoyingly as a broken record!

And as you would imagine, the Moroccan experience is not just visual. Imagining the smells of spices, soap and the sea as well as the sounds of men spruiking their wares and the gorgeous (but oh so loud) melodic call to prayer take me back to Morocco in an instant. My time there was full of so many crazy experiences I can’t explain them all…. however I will name just a few more very quickly!

- Daily rides to work in a ‘grand taxi’ which is essentially a very ‘classic’ (70s or 80s?) model Mercedes in which 2 people get crammed in the front and 4 in the back. No wonder you make friends fast in Morocco!

- Ordering cappucinos to find them half filled with chocolate and with a mountain of whipped cream on top. Not to mention watching practically half a kilo of sugar disappear in to every pot of Moroccan tea. Did I mention people like sugar in Morocco?

- Watching a boy throw a cat at Susan in Essaouira. Then watching the look on Susans face as she realised what just happened! ( I can’t guarantee no animals were hurt in the making of this memory)

- Receiving a surprise farewell morning tea from my class on my last day complete with gifts, biscuits, tea, coffee and a perfectly written message (in English!) on the whiteboard.

You know there are thousands more but I am going to leave it there for now. Needless to say this incredible country, and even more so the people in it, made an indelible impression on me. As a result, whether I write about it in the future or not I am fairly certain there will be a Morocco Part 3.. :)