Happy 41st Birthday Brother...Wherever you are, I haven't forgotten.

My Morocco!

We admit it. We're virgins! This was our first trip to Africa, first Muslim country and first third world country.

We were advised to go with a tour group. But tour group travel is annoying. So we tried to talk friends in to going with us. No luck. So we went on our own.

We'd done Munich, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam and much of western Europe and we're craving something more exotic where the dollar is worth something.



We quickly learned to never judge a Muslim unless you've experienced a Muslim country. Moroccans were kind, honest, gentle and never once ripped us off. On the other hand, we could talk your ear off on how many times Romans tried to rip us off not a mile from the Vatican.



It's true what everyone says. Casablanca's an armpit. But we had great experiences there anyway. We had our first traditional hammam experience. About 2 and half hours (for $30) we were boiled, scrubbed in black soap, wet massaged, steamed, scoured, wrapped in bonafida sea sludge and bossed around while naked by big, burly Moroccan women. It's very humbling to be perched on a marble stoop in a steam room naked while they wash your hair and dump buckets of hot water over your head. We were thoroughly beat up and loved every moment of it!



Hawaii haunts us everywhere we go!

My Morocco!

The mosque in Casablanca.



The Novotel was awesome and dirt cheap!




We stayed in Casablanca for just a day and took the train to Marrakech.

My Morocco!

The Casablanca-to-Marrakech train system works beautifully. In my imagination on overdrive I expected to be packed into a cargo car with farmers and goats. Instead, it was safe, clean and efficient with no real difference between first and second class except for price.

The terracotta-colored countryside was impressive. And funny to watch donkeys and oxen trotting down Morocco's new, modern highways....

After the three-hour train ride to Marrakech, we were awestruck during the drive from the train station to the hotel. There were wide-paved streets lined with palms, and Vegas style hotels. After dingy Casablanca and the cobblestone streets of Sicily, we felt a surge of joy at something American-esque...



...that fled quickly when then the luxury van stopped and deposited us at what looked like a beat down village entrance - a narrow dusty alleyway with chickens on carts and donkeys standing about. Our luggage was placed in a homemade wooden wheel barrow and we were instructed to follow the toothless Moroccan - and keep up! - as he hustled his way through a labyrinth of musty and narrow passages and alleys, merchants and mayhem.

We were practically jogging to keep up with the toothless man with the wheelbarrow.



At this point, Rob was about to FREAK.

I didn't know what to be more scared of - where we were being led to or what Rob would do when we got there. Everyone looked like Bin Laden's brother, and I tried to assure him this was going to be fine.



After what seemed like an eternity in the maze of corridors, we stopped in front of a totally spooky doorway that looked like it was built for a short ogre or a really tall dwarf....and out pops a Frenchman welcoming us to the Riad Magellan. Through the doorway was a breathtaking home - complete with a trickling courtyard fountain full of floating rose petals.

We had arrived!

My Morocco!

I loved worming our way through the dusty streets of Marrakech - being amongst the donkeys and the ladies dressed in their beautiful burkas. Every which way you turn there's something stunning to see - it's a city full of hope, desperation, ancient charm, peaceful resignation...and most of all hard, hard work.

My Morocco!

In Marrakech, we stayed in a traditional riad - a wealthy Moroccan home with an open courtyard in the center that was converted to a bed and breakfast, owned by a Frenchman. We picked it because we wanted to be close to the action and to have a more authentic experience. Authentic included an incredibly uncomfortable bed, an overpriced massage and meal.

All the guests were abuzz about who'd be America's next president. This was top of every foreigner's mind at the hotel. One Canadian remarked - "We're in the midst of an election too and none of us give a damn who Canada's president will be. We just care about who will be the US President."



We stayed out of the political chatter, and just enjoyed the Moroccan mint tea.



We had a cooking lesson with the house cook who trained us how to make chicken tagine and Moroccan vegetables. She didn't speak any English and we didn't speak any French. But we watched wide-eyed and learned anyway!



We hired a fabulous tour guide for the day through our place and he was very generous in introducing us to the Muslim way of life and opened the door and our eyes to the real Marrakech.

My Morocco!

Wherever we ate, cats were sure to be there. Our guide had said that cats are sacred in Muslim culture.

Here's one who joined us at our table for lunch!



Another restaurant kitty just hopped up next to Rob and snuggled down with his backpack while we ate...



His tableside friend sat at my feet...






When food looks this good, no wonder the kitties want to be your friend!

My Morocco!

Marrakesh is a shopping paradise. The most beautiful handmade art, objects, gorgeous textiles, jewelry. I'd found heaven for sale. And my friend Brandon had said pack your suitcase full of anything American to use as barter -toothpaste, toothbrushes, candy bars, American t-shirts from a thrift store.

Fortunately all the Halloween candy was on sale here so we filled our suitcases with chocolate and geared ourselves for Olympic-level Barter & Haggling.





With all shops, there's a tourist price and a price they give to those they respect (about 30 to 50 percent less). We fought tooth and nail for the respectable price and always closed the sale with a handful of candy bars and a warm smile.

My Morocco!

It's a long day when you are constantly being courted, hustled and hollered at by merchants trying to get you in to their shop. We were having a blast but we were both weary. Rob was in a shop and I was barely standing - waiting outside.

And this tiny little shop owner - who caught my eye - because he was so quiet in the mayhem of the marketplace - offered me his stool. My feet were throbbing.

I was so exhausted I just dropped my head and just stared at the dirt for several minutes. And was so grateful that this little man didn't say a word to me, and was just comfortable with our silence.

I ended up purchasing one of his handcarved bowls, which was stunning! He was so kind and so talented, I would have bought 20 if I had enough luggage space to bring them home.



The man buried behind all these baskets was so nice to us. He fixed my broken straw basket that I had gotten in Romania within minutes - his fingers flying. He charged nothing. So we bought a basket from him in thanks.

The poverty in Morocco is intense. It just kills you that these amazingly talented and hardworking artisans have to fight so hard to live. It almost made me feel as if I don't deserve my life - I haven't earned it as they have.

My Morocco!

These Moroccans are so incredibly talented, hard working and honest people - who still create, make and sell the ancient way. They are so close to their products - their craft is so personal - it's part of their imagination, their spirit.





In the silk souk, we watched silk be made. What I most love about our European (and now African) experience, is that there's something so intimate about buying goods from the person who makes the items. To meet the man who dyes the silk, and selects the colors, and sells his craft - shopping has never been so intimate as what we experienced in Marrakech.

My Morocco!

My Morocco!

Watching carpets be made was fascinating! Never had a huge respect for what's under foot until we watched the rug making process, the colors, the designs. It was enlightening.

My Morocco!

I am terrified of snakes. Rob, on the other hand, let himself be immediately seduced by snake charmers. He paid them well for the opportunity to have a snake tail up his nose and tipped the charmer with a candy bar too.





I refused to touch him until he showered.



Of course, when they all realized we have American candy bars the whole tribe of charmers were after me. You can imagine how fast I can run away from a gaggle of snake charmers....dashing through the square like a crazy person.

My Morocco!

When our guide asked us what we wanted to see in Marrakech, we said we wanted to see the leather made. He tried to talk us out of it because of the distance and the district. We insisted and hoofed our way to the poorest sector of Marrakech to watch leather be made.



It nearly brought me to tears to see what a complicated and long process leather making is. And to see how hard these men labor for so little. As we stood there watching these men work, it dawned on me that I've never truly had a hard day at work in my life.

And it might be wise to think twice before I ever complain about anything in my little cushy work day ever again.