A Trip to the Heart of Morocco

It all began when my wife and I got off our flight from Cleveland via
Cincinnati at JFK. We had to walk outdoors between the domestic terminal and
the international terminal to check in for our Royal Air Maroc flight to
Casablanca. Previously, Royal Air Maroc informed us over the phone that our
seats were secured. In reality, we found at check-in that they weren't yet
assigned, so we ended up with seats not next to each other. Once we boarded,
the attractive Moroccan flight attendant informed the guy assigned to sit
next to my wife that he and I were switching seats (how could he say no to a
Moroccan hottie?). Other than our seats being right across from the toilet
and un-reclinable, the flight was uneventful.

We arrived at Casablanca and were greeted by our guide, Mohammed Masrour. We
were the only couple for the 10-day adventure (not counting the 2 travel
days). This opened many doors for us and immediately immersed us in the
culture. We weren't with a large tour group for locals to scoff. We didn't
have to worry about what 10 other people wanted to see or do (or rely on any
itinerary). We didn't have to make small-talk with a bunch of other
Americans. All of our interactions were with real Moroccans, and interacting
was definitely interesting.

Mohammed drove us to our hotel in Rabat, where we were able to take a short
nap to help the jet-lag, after which we had lunch at the hotel. In the late
afternoon (lunch is around 2 in Morocco), we did the requisite site seeing
in the current capital city. You see, every time the country gets a new
king, the capital could conceivably change, and it has in the past. We
walked through the Kasbah (old military fortress/castle) then had our first
mint tea at the edge of the medina overlooking the sea. The medina (in
English, pronounced ma-deena) is a maze of narrow streets wide enough for a
donkey or two, but not for a car. It is lined by merchants and their living
quarters. The tea included fresh mint.

The next day, we stopped at Alarbiaa, which had the souk on Thursday. The
souk is a traveling flea-market that goes from town to town selling all
kinds of cheap (both in price and quality) goods. I bought a short wave
radio. The first one didn't work so I had to exchange it for another one on
which the volume control became flaky within a week. We passed stuff like
kif pipes, grill racks, and fake Michael Jordan shoes. It was PACKED with
people, and we found the whole souk concept to be a bit ridiculous. We were
told to watch our wallets, and my wife actually felt someone put their hand
in her coat pocket in a failed attempt to pick it.

For lunch, we ended up at the Motel Rif, just outside of Ouazane (pronounced
"WaaZaa"). We had Tagine Chicken. A tagine is a shallow ceramic bowl with a
ceramic lid. The food is cooked inside. The lid is then removed and voila,
lunch is served. It was pretty good, the first authentic Moroccan meal of
many that were to come. We met this one cat that worked there named Khalid.
In Arabic, the Kh is pronounced kind of like a "hard HHHH" with the middle
of your tongue practically touching the top of your mouth.

I started talking with Khalid (through translation). I'd read the stories
about Morocco's relationship with the cannabis plant. Being in Morocco, it
was decided to check the stories. The cannabis plant is known as the kif
plant in Morocco. Kif is a French word that, in English, is pronounced
"keef." The plant is shaken, and off of the buds comes the kif, or cannibis.
In the US, the word "kif" is used to describe the powder that falls from the
buds when they are run back and forth over a screen. In Morocco, they pack
that powder together and get scheet, or hashish. After the hashish is
extracted, they may cut the left over kif with tobacco and sell it (as kif).
The scheet is sold separately and is subsequently rolled into a rolling
paper with tobacco extracted from a cigarette (non-Muslim Moroccans like
Marlboros, but on the bottom of every box is a warning in Arabic that says
"Don't smoke, it's bad for you").

Determined to find out more about the legend, Khalid took us to his hometown
of Ouazane into the hills of the medina. We ended up near the top and walked
into a small coffee shop (I mean, really small) on the 2nd floor. Inside,
the owner was brewing some mint tea in a small corner, an old man was
drinking some at a small table, and a kid was sitting at the threshold of
the door to the balcony puffing on a scheet-lined cigarette. Khalid sent the
kid on a mission, and he returned with a small bag of kif. It was the first
I'd seen of the legend, and we packed some into a long, skinny wooden pipe
with a small ceramic bowl (common in Morocco). I took a puff and I was
immediately put into a state that I found intense, but a bit strange. Then,
there was a mellow pot buzz for a short while.

We sat on the balcony sipping tea as the hustle and bustle of daily life
went on below. Children playing football in the street, men guiding their
loaded donkeys through the people; women carrying toddlers on their backs,
and human push carts everywhere; it was Morocco. We descended into the
medina for a short tour.

Unlike in the big cities, in the small towns, most of the women wore head
scarves. The shrines and coffee shops were only for the men. As my wife
accompanied us everywhere (including into the coffee shops), she seemed like
a black kid in white bred suburban America. However, the children loved her.
They would shout "Bonjour! Bonjour Madam!" in an attempt to elicit a
response. It was as if the children reveled in what she represented, a free
woman not bogged down by the impositions of men, just like themselves as
children (for now).

We ended up in another coffee shop. There was a bunch of old dudes in one
corner playing cards. In the other, a bunch of younger dudes were watching a
low budget Spaghetti Western with American actors and Arabic subtitles. Due
to the multitude of languages, it was not uncommon to see American films in
English with Arabic or French subtitles, French movies with French subtitles
(so the Moroccans could brush-up), or Arabic movies with English or French
subtitles (along with movies filmed in one language, but dubbed in another).
The radio was another story, with songs having English, French, and Arabic
lyrics (sometimes, even in the same song).

Khalid elicited two dudes from the other table to partake in a small kif
smoking (it was common in the coffee shops, except in the big city where the
cops hang out). One guy spoke decent English, and we assumed it was from the
westerns. He rolled up a traditional scheet-lined tobacco cigarette and it
was passed around, skipping those uninterested (like myself, naturally). The
other guy whipped out some sort of substance that was later described to me
(in French) as basically schit made from tobacco. He snorted it and offered
me some. Khalid made the international sign for "crazy," so I decided it was
a bad idea.

In Morocco, they generally speak Arabic and French. However, they actually
have a language of their own consisting of Arabic words, French words, and
Berber words. The Moroccan language varies from town to town, but somehow
everyone understands each other. My wife muddled through with a little
French from what she'd learned in high school, but I had to rely on her and
Mohammed to communicate. Though, the next day we did meet a man Mohammed
called "the smart man" in the small town of Amerguou that was way more up on
American politics than most Americans are. Among his modest set of English
words was "Condoleezza Rice," as her Senate confirmation was the primary
political story of the day. We continued on to Taza to spend the next few
days with Mohammed's cousins.

It was at this time that we really realized how fortunate we were. We spent
three nights in Taza with a family consisting of Abdou, an olive-oil
producer, his brother Rachid's family, their sister (a practicing Muslim
that was kind enough to find me an English Qur'an), and the cook Hakima (and
what a cook she was!).

Immediately, many rumors about Morocco were dispelled. Not everyone is a
non-drinking Muslim that prays 5 times a day. Most of the people we'd met
were like the average person in America that is not fervent about any
particular religion, but loosely follows traditions (like Christmas in
America). However, there are many devout Muslims. From every mosque you will
hear a minister calling out over loudspeakers 5 times per day as a reminder
to pray. You can even hear the reminders from the most remote areas of the
country, because they are coming from all directions as there are many
mosques in Morocco. Also, many people (Abdou's sister and Mohammed's wife,
to name but two) are anti-drinking and feel strongly about following the
righteous path to the holy land. However, this is not everyone. As an
example, I think that Rachid could drink me under the table any day of the
week. Nevertheless, of course, it is not a way of life. We had a few beers
together (bridged by a day of complete abstinence for all but Mohammed &
Abdou's terrible cigarette habit); however, they never drink around
non-drinking family out of respect and courtesy.

Respect and courtesy runs very deep in Moroccan culture. When we stayed with
Abdou, my wife and I slept in his bed as he slept on the couch (this was
similar when we later stayed with Mohammed, as he and his wife gave us their
bed for a night). Another example was the fact that, though they normally
spoke Moroccan Arabic in conversation, Abdou started speaking French in an
effort to allow my wife into the conversation.

Sometimes, the courtesy even gets annoying (if you can believe it). One of
the themes of the trip was the constant "You must ate! You must ate!" said
to us by the men. They were saying "you must eat" but it sounded like "you
must ate" due to the accent. We were guests, and they wanted to make sure
that we were eating enough. It ended up that this was a good thing, because
we were never hungry and we really needed the nourishment not only for the
physical activity, but also the mental activity of trying to assimilate with
this completely different world. Fortunately, when we ate with the ladies,
they were generally far too courteous to issue such commands (though they
would on the sly slide more food to us out of the collective plate).

In Morocco, everyone eats from a single large communal plate (or tagine
bowl). They take pieces of bread and grab chunks of food from the plate with
their hands and eat it. One night, my wife and I were picking at the shared
chicken with forks and the niece of Abdou was perplexed at this custom. We
then just started ripping it away from the bone with our hands to fit in.

In Taza, I met some friends. One tried the kif from Ouazane and immediately
noticed that it was very tobacco heavy. I then realized that it was a
tobacco buzz at the coffee shop that felt so strange (I don't smoke
cigarettes). I told them about the custom that Americans do not mix their
kif with tobacco. They told me of a professor they once knew from America
that smoked his scheet directly from a Moroccan pipe (the one with the small
ceramic elbow). We hooked up with some uncut kif for scientific comparison
to the cut stuff. Also, we acquired a small quantity of the renowned
Moroccan schit. For a local, the price of kif and scheet is minute.

It was under the influence of the schit that I put some serious thought into
the customs of taking a **** in Morocco. At the hotels were bidets.
According to American Heritage dictionary, a bidet is "a fixture similar in
design to a toilet that is straddled for bathing the genitals and the
posterior parts." In Morocco, toilet paper is less common. It is felt that
water gets you much cleaner after taking a dump than TP.

The house at which we stayed in Taza was built in the early 70's and was
outfitted not with toilets and bidets, but Turkish baths. A Turkish bath is
a ceramic fixture as well, but in the floor at the edge of the room. It is
about a square-yard and has two elevated areas for your feet. In between the
feet steps and the wall is a single hole. You can stand on the foot steps
facing the wall and **** into the hole. Alternatively, you can place your
feet on them with your back to the wall and squat. Your asshole is then
aimed at the small hole into which you ****. I told Mohammed that I was
proud of my first use of the Turkish Bath because I got the **** in the
hole. He called me "the sniper."

When finished ****ting, a bucket is awaiting under a spigot in the wall. You
turn the water on to fill the bucket (as you take the appropriate water to
wipe your ass). You then dump the bucket of water into the hole of the
Turkish Bath to flush. Fortunately, we had biodegradable toilet paper.
However, the water thing is probably good, considering that most Moroccans
don't shower every day.

My name, Russ, is also a word in Arabic. It is pronounced "Russ" but
translates to "Head." It was quite interesting when Mohammed would call me
in public and people would do a double-take. In Arabic, the letters are read
from right-to-left instead of left-to-right. This means that you start
reading a book from the back cover to the front cover.

The language barrier was interesting. As we stood at a mountain top that had
some snow on the ground, I spent several minutes trying to explain through
many hand gestures and simple words that we got over 14 inches of snow in
Cleveland last month (never mind that they use the metric system). Also, I
was intrigued by the different ways that one moves their tongue and throat
in different languages (having English, Arabic, Berber, and French to
compare). I noticed it was kind of like playing the saxophone. Mohammed
began calling me the "Copperman" (French for "saxophonist").

In the van, Mohammed, Abdou, and Rachid would have conversations in Arabic
that my wife and I could not understand. At the same time, we had
conversation in English (with the usual slang) that they could not really
comprehend. Perhaps Mohammed could pull out some words here or there, so we
tested him by having him recite words sung on the radio. He'd say something
that sounded similar, but was totally wrong. It was amusing. They told us
that they took the words of the song "Give a little bit. Give a little bit
of your love to me." and put together an Arabic version that went "Gib
Albaid Li Flibit" which translates to "Bring Eggs to the Room."

We went to a cave outside of Taza for a tour. We'd been at a cave outside of
San Antonio and the setup was in stark contrast. Unlike San Antonio, the
cave in the Middle Atlas had no lights, no helmets issued, no fee, and it
was pretty tough to get through. However, our hired guide was a lifesaver
(especially for my wife). Also, nobody told you what you couldn't touch.
Besides finding structures that could be hit like hand drums, sometimes
there was no other way to get through than to hang on so you didn't fall.
They said "watch your Russ" a lot.

We spent a few days in town exploring the sites of Taza. The internet café
is only about 3 Dirham (34 US cents) per half-hour. Single cigarettes are
sold on the street everywhere. People buy them from each other (instead of
bumming them). Trade often occurs, with folks handing each other a couple
Dirhams here or there for cigs, palms, oil, nuts, whatever.

Abdou took us to his olive grove where they made the oil. We saw the huge
stone contraptions used to crush the olives into oil. My wife and I took
turns riding a donkey through the groves, down to the water, and next to the
neighboring tribe. We ended up at the donkey owner's house for lunch. We
were all now guests in this family's house. He served up the tea. My wife
counted 11 tea kettles in that room alone. In Morocco, tea is big. They
boil the water in one tea kettle and place the dried leaves in an
illustrious serving teapot. Inside, the tea is washed with the hot water a
few times. Then, the hot water is poured into the tea, along with heaping
helpings of sugar. It is then reheated, and when returned from the heat,
methods are employed to cool it to drinking temperature. It is poured from
the spout a decent distance into an small glass. If it is still too hot, the
tea is poured between different glasses and/or back into the tea kettle.
Once it is served, it is still pretty hot. Unlike tea cups, on the glass,
there is no handle, so you must put a finger on the rim and another on the
bottom corner of the glass to hold it without burning your hand. For lunch,
we ate well with a notable dish being a cold soup made from goat milk and
milled corn (that went along with the homemade bread and butter). It was
another authentic, filling, and delicious lunch.

After observing daily life and being treated like family in Taza for a few
days, the three of us went camping with Abdou and Rachid. The campsite was a
very remote area in Eastern Morocco (about 100km from Algeria). Morocco has
two deserts, the Desert of the Sand (the Sahara), and the Desert of the
Stone (kind of like Aruba). Where we were, it looked like Mars, but with
water. A dam was built nearby, causing a large lake. The eye candy of the
landscape, water, and vastness was breathtaking. We built a fire and ate
freshly grilled sardines, chicken, and mincemeat kebabs for dinner.

The next day, we drove through many small towns on the way to Fes,
Mohammed's home town (though he grew up in Taza). In one of the small towns
on the way, we got 2 teas and a cappuccino for a total cost of a whopping 6
Dirham (65 US cents). Mohammed was uncertain about the cleanliness of the
food on the way so we picked up some bread, cheese, sardines, and coca-cola
(with Arabic lettering) for us to eat at lunch. We had a picnic at an
overlook and took a short hike up a big hill. Again, the views of the day
were fantastic.

We ended up at the hotel in Fes. My wife and I had some quality time before
we awoke the next day for the American dream: shopping. Let me first say
that I generally can't stand shopping. However, we had a list. We met our
guide for the Fes Medina Shopping Spree at the hotel. His name was Salim.
His credo seemed to be to find us quality. He grew up in Fes and knew most
of the old-school merchants. First on our list was a tagine. We ended up at
a ceramics place that was a school for ceramics, having all the equipment
and talent on-site. We picked up the tagine, along with a gift for a family
member at home.

Next on our list was a tea kettle. Salim took us to a place that gave us a
full demonstration about their quality. The artist for the engraving was
sitting there working on a piece. He used an awl with a single point on it.
The owner showed us that cheaper versions used awls that had templates (of a
star or line, for example). We picked up a sweet serving tea kettle along
with a serving tray. Also, we got a bronze tray to hang on the wall as a
gift.

The prices started adding up quickly. Next up was the carpet store. Mohammed
had previously praised Moroccan carpets. We weren't really planning on it.
We ended up walking out with some really nice sheep wool carpets (they are
so soft in front of our bed), along with an elaborate runner that is
reversible (summer and winter). We had a real salesman on our hands, but my
wife and I walked away happy (and I couldn't help thinking they did as
well). Negotiating was quite a process.

Next, Salim took us to a tannery. Outside, you could see about a hundred
different pits filled with various colors and used to dye the hides used to
make leather. We got a foot-stool for a gift. Finally, I hooked up with a
jalaba. These outfits are worn all over the North by the local men. A brown
one with a hood is kind of like Obi Wan's robe, but it doesn't split all the
way down in front. A white hooded jalaba vaguely resembles KKK garb. I also
hooked up with a ceramic darbuka, which is a conga-like drum shaped like an
hour-glass. Before we even got to the place that made the fancy knit-design
table cloths (which can only be sewed by ambidextrous knitters), we were
broke. However, if you're rich (or really dig debt), I'm sure you could go
all out for days. It's all good because it helps the local economy.

The next day, we went to the small village of Bhalil to visit a family that
lived in a cave for tea. It was another one of the many small jewels we'd
encountered during our travels. After this, we went home and ate couscous
with Mohammed's family. That evening, we ate many fantastic sweets prepared
by the wife of Mohammed. Mohammed and I ran a small errand to the store as
my wife observed Mohammed's wife spend over four hours cooking a dazzling
dinner for all.

The next day, Mohammed was going to be sleeping in the van on the beach
while my wife and I slept at the hotel in Casablanca, so he needed some
beers. The beer stores would be closed then for the Eid Al-Adha festival, so
Mohammed and I walked to the local supermarket to grab a couple bottles
while the cooking extravaganza was in progress. The store was packed with
many men (no women in sight) all standing in a swiftly-moving line eager to
get their beer for the holiday. The lines moved quickly. It was organized
chaos. As I purchased my beer, the guy at the counter told me in French to
give him two more Dirham to make even change. I sheepishly looked at him as
I had no idea what he was saying.

That night, we watched a little Moroccan satellite TV, nestled with the
sweetest old Berber lady you could ever imagine, Mohammed's mom. She had a
tattoo on her chin that signified her tribe, and she was now almost
completely blind from diabetes complications. It was a pleasure to guide her
across the room and to her seat where she beckoned us with the only French
she knew, "Mangez! Mangez!" (Eat! Eat!).

Throughout the week, as men bought sheep all across the country at huge
sheep-selling events, we learned that our last full day was going to be the
Eid Al-Adha festival. This is a Muslim festival that comes from a story in
the Qur'an about Abraham, who took his son to sacrifice in the name of
Allah. Allah gave him a sheep instead so he could save his son. To
celebrate, families all buy their own sheep and have it sacrificed on their
rooftop. We were lucky enough to witness it with Mohammed's family.

Like many other Muslims that day, Mohammed brought home his sheep Friday
morning and tied it up on his roof top (which, like many Moroccan houses,
was an open floor atop the house having walls but no ceiling. Like the other
sheep we'd seen, Mohammed's was stubborn. Eventually the butcher showed up.

Mohammed and the butcher held the sheep down while the butcher made one
swift slice through the neck, cutting open the windpipe and severing the two
carotid arteries, which continued to pump blood from the body as the sheep
fell to the ground and exhaled its last breath through its open neck. The
head was removed and the body hung as the blood flowed from the severed
arteries. The hide was slid from the body like pulling off a tight shirt,
and the chest opened. The stomach was carefully detached and dropped to the
floor so as not to damage the meat. The organs were put on a tray, along
with some fat. Since the meat needed to be aged for a few more days, this
was a day for eating organs and heads. Mohammed's wife and her sister
prepared some liver which was boiled then wrapped in fat and grilled on
skewers. We tried some, but fortunately, we didn't hear "you have to ate!"
at that point. We walked the streets and saw people grilling sheep heads on
open fires in celebration. Soon the children would be selling heads to make
a few Dirham.

After this second climax of the trip, we drove to Casablanca, via the
ancient Roman city of Volubulus, where we saw our first tour bus. We again
counted our lucky stars that we picked the right tour, as we saw the fat
oozing from this lady's spandex. We were then off to Casablanca, where we
spent a night at a hotel on the shore where we had dinner.

The hotel food had nothing on the home cookin'. We were so fortunate to be
able to eat like real Moroccans. We woke up the following morning and
snapped a few pictures at the large mosque in town. We were then escorted to
the departure point by our guide after a near-teary goodbye.

Our flight back was uneventful (with better seats) until we hit the states.
It turned out that the first major snowstorm of 2005 was brewing below us.
Of course, we were left in the dark from the crew except that the weather
was bad below, so we were going to circle for a while. On the way back,
there was no movie on the screen, only the flight trajectory. We saw the
plane circle the north-end of Long Island, followed by a circle at JFK. We
were then informed that there was an "emergency landing" at JFK (euphemism
for "a plane slid off the runway"), and that we were being diverted to
Newark.

We landed in Newark and eventually got through customs there. I knew that
nobody would be watching out for us and decided that our best option at that
time was a drive back to Cleveland. Our flight from JFK to Cincinnati was
cancelled, and the next one was not to leave JFK until the following day at
3pm. Due to the weather, the monorail was out of commission, so we waked
with our luggage about a half-mile through foot-deep snow to Hertz. We
hooked up with a Toyota Camry and I drove through the conditions until I
couldn't drive any more (this was about one hour, putting us just off of
I-280 in Jersey at a Residence Inn). It was about 2:30 am Morocco time by
the time I got to bed at 9:30. Fortunately, still jet-lagged, we awoke at
5:30 the next morning and hit the road. The second wave of the blizzard was
upon us, and I drove through the deep snow, often following snow-plow teams
across I-80 from Jersey and through the Pocono's mountains. Luckily, the
farther west we got, the clearer the roads got, and we made it home at about
the time the plane was pulling out of JFK (though we learned it left about
30 minutes late and we likely would have been stuck in Cincinnati another
night). We made the right choice driving, and the adventure of a lifetime
(start to finish) had come to an end.

Sorry for the multiposts, Outlook express problems

Review of the Tour Companies

We originally booked a tour with Sarah Tours, but we eventually learned
(after we arrived) that they subcontracted us to Relations Tours. First off,
Mohammed Masrour ) made this the trip of a lifetime. I
can't say enough for this kind, smart, and extremely eager to please man.
His boss, Brahim Laaboussi of Relations Tours ) was
also on top of things. He met with us in person twice and was in constant
contact with Mohammed, ensuring that all was well. Our experience with Sarah
Tours was not nearly as good. The owner is located in the USA. This made him
easy to approach before the trip, but impossible to reach during the trip.

We made our agreement in the beginning with the Sarah Tours operator that
included full board. However, this tidbit was not conveyed to anyone in
Morocco, and so we ended up paying for some of our meals. Full board on
Sarah Tours ended up translating to full board at the hotel, where the cost
could easily be charged to the tour company. We did our shopping day with a
Sarah Tours guide, and not even he was told that our meals were included. We
ended up at a relatively expensive (but ohh soo good!) restaurant, but had
to pay.

However, I would recommend Salim as a Fes Medina guide without reservation.
He hooked us up with true quality vendors. It was not the crap that abounds
at the souk. However, be prepared to spend good money to get good quality.

While in Morocco, we didn't hear from the Sarah Tours operator once.
Fortunately, Brahim was in town representing his company. Overall, I'd
recommend working with Relations Tours directly and cutting out the
middle-man. They are good enough for Sarah Tours to subcontract to, and they
gave us the experience of a lifetime on this trip. However, I have nothing
against Sarah Tours because without them, I'd never have met Mohammed, and
they made it easy to get to Morocco (though it's not that hard if you want
to try).

My Wife's Tips for Morocco
1. Bring a French/English Dictionary
2. Biodegradable camping T/P. Your bathroom may be a toilet with a bidet, a
Turkish bath, or the great outdoors.
3. Camping Towels
4. Flashlight
5. No headwear needed if you are worried about religious persecution
6. If you travel in the winter, the homes have no heat
7. When shopping, it is OK to say no and walk out. Walking out is the only
way because as long as you are there, there will be constant sales pitch.
Walking out helps negotiations.
8. When bargaining, go less than half of the initial offer. The lower you
start, the lower the final price.
9. There are no double-sheets on most beds (except the 3-star hotels for the
tourists). Consider a silk sleeping bag if this bothers you.
10. You must ate! You must ate! It is the only way to make your Moroccan
hosts happy.
11. You should stick to bottled water. You also can attempt the pharmacist's
recommendation (that worked for us) of employing a daily regimen of 2-pepto
tablets three to four times a day. However, Salads are often cooked, so no
need to worry about that. Moroccans also peel their apples, so you're fine
there as well.
12. Drink Tea. The sugar alone is enough to keep you going through the
toughest moments of culture shock and constant movement of travel.
13. Don't go to Morocco if you are a diabetic, vegetarian, or on the Atkins
diet.
14. They don't use washcloths.

Sorry for the multiposts, Outlook express problems

Review of the Tour Companies

We originally booked a tour with Sarah Tours, but we eventually learned
(after we arrived) that they subcontracted us to Relations Tours. First off,
Mohammed Masrour ) made this the trip of a lifetime. I
can't say enough for this kind, smart, and extremely eager to please man.
His boss, Brahim Laaboussi of Relations Tours ) was
also on top of things. He met with us in person twice and was in constant
contact with Mohammed, ensuring that all was well. Our experience with Sarah
Tours was not nearly as good. The owner is located in the USA. This made him
easy to approach before the trip, but impossible to reach during the trip.

We made our agreement in the beginning with the Sarah Tours operator that
included full board. However, this tidbit was not conveyed to anyone in
Morocco, and so we ended up paying for some of our meals. Full board on
Sarah Tours ended up translating to full board at the hotel, where the cost
could easily be charged to the tour company. We did our shopping day with a
Sarah Tours guide, and not even he was told that our meals were included. We
ended up at a relatively expensive (but ohh soo good!) restaurant, but had
to pay.

However, I would recommend Salim as a Fes Medina guide without reservation.
He hooked us up with true quality vendors. It was not the crap that abounds
at the souk. However, be prepared to spend good money to get good quality.

While in Morocco, we didn't hear from the Sarah Tours operator once.
Fortunately, Brahim was in town representing his company. Overall, I'd
recommend working with Relations Tours directly and cutting out the
middle-man. They are good enough for Sarah Tours to subcontract to, and they
gave us the experience of a lifetime on this trip. However, I have nothing
against Sarah Tours because without them, I'd never have met Mohammed, and
they made it easy to get to Morocco (though it's not that hard if you want
to try).

My Wife's Tips for Morocco
1. Bring a French/English Dictionary
2. Biodegradable camping T/P. Your bathroom may be a toilet with a bidet, a
Turkish bath, or the great outdoors.
3. Camping Towels
4. Flashlight
5. No headwear needed if you are worried about religious persecution
6. If you travel in the winter, the homes have no heat
7. When shopping, it is OK to say no and walk out. Walking out is the only
way because as long as you are there, there will be constant sales pitch.
Walking out helps negotiations.
8. When bargaining, go less than half of the initial offer. The lower you
start, the lower the final price.
9. There are no double-sheets on most beds (except the 3-star hotels for the
tourists). Consider a silk sleeping bag if this bothers you.
10. You must ate! You must ate! It is the only way to make your Moroccan
hosts happy.
11. You should stick to bottled water. You also can attempt the pharmacist's
recommendation (that worked for us) of employing a daily regimen of 2-pepto
tablets three to four times a day. However, Salads are often cooked, so no
need to worry about that. Moroccans also peel their apples, so you're fine
there as well.
12. Drink Tea. The sugar alone is enough to keep you going through the
toughest moments of culture shock and constant movement of travel.
13. Don't go to Morocco if you are a diabetic, vegetarian, or on the Atkins
diet.
14. They don't use washcloths.

I believe it was "Happy Russ"
who thought we would be interested in the following:

- Sorry for the multiposts, Outlook express problems

If you can put "Sorry for the multiposts, Outlook express problems"
at the top that means you *purposely* posted this again.



--
, ,
/ |\___/| \ you are a net.god! -BaZerk
/| / \ |\
/' | |, /\__/| | `\ Who the **** are you? Just
/' \ ||\ oo / `\ another usenet asshole is
/' \ |(_ ) / `\ what. -Harry
/C \ \ /---- / C\
OC | `\ | -\/ /' | CO ok who thinks satan
OC / | __\_/ ',/__ | \ CO may be an artifical
Oo | \/' ` ' ' `\/ | oO intellegence? -dozr
OC | | : | | CO
oOC /~~~\_ | ;,__,',__,; | _/~~~\ COo Jessus your stipid
oOC | \\ '\ _|_ /` // | COo -Kaazmann
oOC | ~\ | _|_ | /~ | COo
oOC \ , \ \_______/ / , / COo Hehehe. You're so
OC `\ \ \ \_____/ / / /' CO cute. -LiZzY
O `\ \, \ \ / / ,/ /' O
O /~~\\ \\_\ |___| /_// /~~\ O I like Satan's big
\ | `\, \ | | | | / ,/ | / sig. it's like an old
\ | / / ''' ``` \ \ | / friend! -Ian
\| / / \ | |/
`\ VVV~ _ ~VVV /' I just think your a bit
________ _| |_ __ _ _ __ of a ******, for having
/ ____/ _` | _|/ _` | `_ \ such a big sig -Arclight
__\__ \/ (_| | |_/ (_| | | | |
\_____/\___,_|\__\___,_|_| |_| Someone want to explain to
AT ALTDRUGSPOT DOT CJB DOT NET me why he's considered a
http://satan.altdrugspot.cjb.net hero in this group?..what
================================ did SATAN do to achieve
ADP FAQ: http://adpfaq.cjb.net this kind of status?
================================ -Lawrence 'Link' Lanahan

"Happy Russ" wrote in message
news:J4fKd.96750$Jk5.16125@lakeread01...


Snip



Thanks Russ - a great accpount of a fantastic trip - thanks for posting it,
I enjoyed the reading.


One question:

The next day, we went to the small village of Bhalil to visit a family
that
lived in a cave for tea.

Where did they live for other beverages?






Shaun aRe - ',;~}~

"Happy Russ" wrote in message
news:J4fKd.96750$Jk5.16125@lakeread01...
It all began when my wife and I got off our flight from Cleveland ....Snip


Thanx for sharing with the readers of acm your very interesting exotic
adventure in the heart of Morocco and its mountains .

I would like to ask you some questions that interest me .

1/How did you feel about your personel safety ?
2/ Did you ever feel uncomfortable in Morocco because
you're Americans and because of what's happening in Middle East ?
3/Did your wife meet any other Moroccan women and what did she
learn from them that she didn't know before. ?The same question
is directed to you Russ.

4/ What good advise would you like to give to readers who want
to visit Morocco but are worried about their safety ?

I am absolutely sure if you write a non fiction book about your adventure
to Morocco, it will be of great interest to many people who still hesitate
to visit that fascinating country and its beautiful and hospitable people.

Thanx again for also choosing ACM to make your story publicly known,
because ACM reflecting Moroccan culture is a sanctuary of concerned
Moroccan migrants seeking a taste of their homeland.

It all began when my wife and I got off our flight from Cleveland ....Snip
1/How did you feel about your personel safety ?

We felt completely safe. Even if we were with a bunch of tourists, we would
have felt safe. However, when in any big city, you should be careful.

2/ Did you ever feel uncomfortable in Morocco because
you're Americans and because of what's happening in Middle East ?

No way. Morocco and the USA, from what we learned, have always had a good
relationship. There was no anti-american sentiment. The politics were very
similar to Europe (i.e. the Blue States on the presidential election map).
There were no signs of Osama. It wasn't even on our minds at all the entire
time. People did head jerks when seeing us in the small towns, but it was
not nearly as bad as when we were in the hills of Jamaica, where we really
stood out. Both times, there was no threat to our safety.

3/Did your wife meet any other Moroccan women and what did she
learn from them that she didn't know before. ? The same question
is directed to you Russ.

My Wife: I learned from the women, "That i should value my independence. I
don't have to do wash in the stream. I don't have to cook all day and I'm
not banished from the coffee shops. It makes you appreciate what women here
had to fight to obtain."

Me: I learned how to become a more gracious host. Hopefully, I will not
forget. "You must ATE!" Also, she wasn't banished, she just stuck out like a
sore thumb.

4/ What good advise would you like to give to readers who want
to visit Morocco but are worried about their safety ?

My Wife: Be alert and don't be an ethnocentric American. They are gracious
hosts. So accept the hospitality and do what you can to fit in. The whole
"when in Rome, go with the flow" mentality.

Me: If you're worried, don't go to NYC because it is probably more
dangerous. Get a tour from Mohammed. He will tell you, "No Problem? No
Problem!"

Great article, Russ...

You hit on many good points.
I am an American and have a Berber partner in the desert. I wear different
hats when I am in Morocco. I am a female American and have learned how lucky
I am. I also realize how fortunate I am to have become involved with Morocco
and Moroccans. Most I know are Berbers from the desert, but also Arabic
through my tourist business. (we have a small business- camels and bivouac
in the desert and a tour operation basically for English speaking people
(via website).

It is safe in Morocco. Everyone likes Americans. They are proud to say that
the first country that recognized the "United States of America" was
Morocco..

I have been there for about 8 years now - with trips back to Spain which I
also call home. I cannot stay indefinitely in the desert as it affects my
health. I also do better organizing my tours, etc, website work in English.

We are lucky that most Moroccans that work with tourists speak many
languages as most Americans speak mainly English.

But we try not to talk politics too much as they hate the politics of Bush
right now. I remember them saying... I hope America does not go to war.....
But they like me.

Also, let us be realistic, my contacts and Berber family benefit from the
money that Americans spend in Morocco. They do not have much money, some
are very poor but eat ok- a basic meal with little meat or fringes..

But do remember to look for "accountability" with your contacts.
Many people get taken for a ride..... But they are safe and not robbed.
E. Elena Hall, Co Director Blue Men of Morocco Co. Visit us in Morocco!
http://www.bluemenofmorocco.com
"Happy Russ" wrote in message
news:mMAKd.97143$Jk5.70882@lakeread01...
It all began when my wife and I got off our flight from Cleveland
....Snip
1/How did you feel about your personel safety ?

We felt completely safe. Even if we were with a bunch of tourists, we
would have felt safe. However, when in any big city, you should be
careful.

2/ Did you ever feel uncomfortable in Morocco because
you're Americans and because of what's happening in Middle East ?

No way. Morocco and the USA, from what we learned, have always had a good
relationship. There was no anti-american sentiment. The politics were
very similar to Europe (i.e. the Blue States on the presidential election
map). There were no signs of Osama. It wasn't even on our minds at all the
entire time. People did head jerks when seeing us in the small towns, but
it was not nearly as bad as when we were in the hills of Jamaica, where we
really stood out. Both times, there was no threat to our safety.

3/Did your wife meet any other Moroccan women and what did she
learn from them that she didn't know before. ? The same question
is directed to you Russ.

My Wife: I learned from the women, "That i should value my independence.
I don't have to do wash in the stream. I don't have to cook all day and
I'm not banished from the coffee shops. It makes you appreciate what
women here had to fight to obtain."

Me: I learned how to become a more gracious host. Hopefully, I will not
forget. "You must ATE!" Also, she wasn't banished, she just stuck out like
a sore thumb.

4/ What good advise would you like to give to readers who want
to visit Morocco but are worried about their safety ?

My Wife: Be alert and don't be an ethnocentric American. They are
gracious hosts. So accept the hospitality and do what you can to fit in.
The whole "when in Rome, go with the flow" mentality.

Me: If you're worried, don't go to NYC because it is probably more
dangerous. Get a tour from Mohammed. He will tell you, "No Problem? No
Problem!"

I am hardly qualified to comment on Morocco.

Kenya, Tanzania, all of southern Africa, yes.
But my only experience in Morocco was 30+
years ago - almost 4 weeks seeing as much
of the country as we could. It is truly beautiful.
Are you American? Think California. Same size.
Same mountains. Same vegetation. Same coasts.

But, Russ.. how did you get through your
remarkable trip, without once mentioning the
persistent complaint that I would have, and
so many visitors to Morocco have, about the
aggressive and unwelcome touts for the shops?

PS - are you old enough to remember Dave Patterson
on Channels 5 & 3 in Cleveland?

I am hardly qualified to comment on Morocco.

Kenya, Tanzania, all of southern Africa, yes.
But my only experience in Morocco was 30+
years ago - almost 4 weeks seeing as much
of the country as we could. It is truly beautiful.
Are you American? Think California. Same size.
Same mountains. Same vegetation. Same coasts.

But, Russ.. how did you get through your
remarkable trip, without once mentioning the
persistent complaint that I would have, and
so many visitors to Morocco have, about the
aggressive and unwelcome touts for the shops?

Nobody is perfect.

Russ is one of those few bona fide ,tactful,well educated,
diplomatic and wise men who blame no man and say all
the good they know of everybody.
He must have met some of his equals in Morocco who
reinforced his great human values appreciated by every civilized society.
Any fool can criticize ,find faults in everything and everybody,
and condemn, and most fools do.Butit takes character and self
control to be understanding and forgiving.
A friendly man like Happy Russ shows his gratitude by the way he
remembers his gracious hosts who treated him and his wife like VIP's
although they didn't know anything about them.
A grateful and positive man only remembers good memories and deletes the
bad ones from his thoughts.
Russ has a great philosophy of life , he should not be rebuked, he's
a role model to emulate.

If Russ has been antagonistic or unfriendly to his hosts
like D.P. suggests to him,readers would disregard his story and would treat
him in a disrepectful manner .
Thanx again Russ for your beautiful story that keeps warming the hearts and
souls of so many readers with your graciousness, forgivingness ,tolerance
and kindness to your fellow beings less fortunate than you .

" A great man shows his greatness " said carlyle,"by the way he treats
little men' "./.
You're cool, man!