More tales from North Africa, two months later.

I'm back for reals now, with some stories to tell you about the past two months so that you're all caught up before I return to the United States in less than a week!

On October 20, almost two months ago, my journey to Morocco began. Here's a short account of my trip, complete with photos stolen from my fellow travelers (my camera stopped working on the ferry ride over, and has been out of commission ever since...)

The plan was to take a bus down to Algeciras, a town on the Mediterranean coast, and then take a ferry across the sea to Spain's southern neighbor. Though I wasn't due in Morocco until Friday morning, conflicting bus and ferry times meant that I left Granada on Thursday. There were five other students coming from Granada for the trip, so we had arranged to share a hotel suite Thursday night.

I was supposed to travel with two other girls from the group but, as is typical in the world of Kelsey, I ran into some snags in my travel plan and missed the bus we were going to take together. I was able to get a seat on the next bus, but I found myself without the name of our hotel or any way to contact anyone from our group. After some frantic emailing, texting, and even skyping, I made it safely to the hotel, courtesy of one of the miracles that characterizes my daily life. I met the rest of the group, grabbed some z's in what turned out to be a very comfortable hotel bed, and headed with my new Moroccan Exchange family to the port.

After a short ferry ride, we were in Tangier, and Spain was just a hazy land mass in the distance.

Since we had some time before the rest of our group arrived (they flew in from Madrid) we explored the city a bit and had the first of many, many cups of sweet mint tea, a Moroccan tradition.

Then we took a stroll through the local market... I can't see I've seen that many different animal parts for sale in my life.

We also took some time to enjoy the ocean views.

Once the rest of the group arrived from Madrid, we had lunch together with some Moroccan students at a women's center in town; the conversation was interesting and my first taste of couscous in Morocco did not disappoint!

We drove along the Atlantic coast to Rabat, stopping along the way to do the typical tourist-in-North-Africa camel ride.

A little after dark, we arrived in Rabat just in time for dinner. We split up into groups of two or three, and clumsily introduced ourselves to our host families (They only spoke French and Darija - Moroccan Arabic - so communication was a little difficult, but between gestures, laughs, and the Arabic that I know, we were able to converse a bit.) Meals tended to be a little quiet, but always delicious, and our host mom always made sure that we left the table with stomachs full of delicious Moroccan food and mint tea. That night, my roomies and I collapsed into the beds made up for us; I'm not sure when was the last time I've slept that deeply...


We started our first full day in Morocco with a visit to a local nonprofit organization, a documentary screening, and a discussion about intercultural stereotypes.

Later, we played the part of cultural tourists and visited the Mausoleum of Hassan II; we were a little confused about what we were looking at, but it was gorgeous nonetheless.

Then we visited the Roman ruins at Chellah, where we got the bizarre chance to feed the local eels some eggs...

That afternoon, we spent a few hours walking around the medina (the old city), strolling along the coast, and getting tea with some Moroccan students. It was a good chance to exchange perspectives, and to learn more about life in Morocco. After some laughs together and a clumsy reading of some religious texts, we headed home for dinner and to prepare ourselves for the much-anticipated trip to the hamam (public baths)!

That night, after chatting with some Peace Corps volunteers and a Fulbright scholar, we headed to the hamam, stripped down, and basically got manhandled by a naked Moroccan woman. I can't say that the experience was especially pleasant, but it was hilarious and certainly worth it. Nothing like laying on a wet tile floor and being violently scrubbed as a roomful of equally naked bathers stand by (except maybe standing naked in the locker room next to a Muslim woman in full religious covering.) I'll just say that if you ever have the opportunity to go to a traditional hamam, enjoy it with an open mind, a willingness to laugh, and maybe your own supply of shampoo.


The next morning, we said goodbye to our lovely host families, and drove a few hours away from the city, until we arrived in a much more rural community in the mountains. After a requisite stop for tea and juice, we followed a dirt road up the hill to a small city, where a family welcomed us into their house for lunch. They only spoke Darija, so communication was difficult, but with the help of a bilingual Moroccan, the joy of sharing good food, and lots of smiles, the afternoon went wonderfully. After lunch and some "conversation", we all walked further up the mountain and together enjoyed a breathtaking view of the Moroccan countryside. Despite the language barrier, I think our appreciation for each others' company was well-communicated. After a round of hugs and hand-squeezes, we piled back into our van and continued on our Moroccan adventure.
After a short ride through a surprisingly green landscape that was reminiscent of the Northwest or some other foresty dream, we arrived in Chefchaouen, a pretty little mountain town. The people of Chefchaouen speak Arabic, French, AND Spanish, so communication was refreshingly possible, and we had the entire afternoon to haggle for Moroccan goods, get handmade henna, and enjoy one last Moroccan meal. That night, we settled into our hostel and rested up for our last activity in the morning.


The next morning, we got up early for a hike up the mountain to the town's mosque (actually, my roomie Amy and I woke up EXTRA early since we set our alarm to Spanish time... oops.) It was a little chilly, and the walk was a little steep, but we were rewarded with beautiful views of the city and one last opportunity for reflection together. The blanket of fog covering the blue town below us was eerily beautiful, never what I expected from Morocco, a wonderful image to take with me on the journey home.


From there, we drove back toward the coast, this time to the Spanish town of Ceuta (Spanish territory on the African continent... which means that it's in Spain's time zone, two hours ahead of the next town. Very odd.) It rained quite a lot all morning and by the time we got to the ferry station, our ferry had been cancelled because of choppy waters. We got ourselves onto another ferry but as a result of the delay, we missed our bus back to Granada (yay! so many missed buses.) Finally, after two buses and four or five hours, we were home, and I got to settle into my bed with a new batch of lovely memories from North Africa : )