Tangerines and Drug Dealers

I don’t need a passport to walk on this earth

Anywhere I go 'cause I was made of this earth

I'm born of this earth, I breathe of this earth

And even with the pain I believe in this earth

So I wake up in every mornin' and I'm steppin' on the floor

I wake up in every mornin' and I'm steppin' out the door

I got faith in the sky, faith in the one

Faith in the people rockin' underneath the sun

'Cause every bit of land is a holy land

And every drop of water is a holy water

-Michael Franti

I had a very long blog entry written for this week, but because of internet connectivity issues (probably something to do with starting to write in one country, then continuing in three others) everything got deleted. So this will be a lot less writing and more pictures, unfortunately.

For the most part, our month in Morocco was filled to the brim with as many site visits, guest lecturers, and classes as the program could possibly fit in. However, we were blessed with a 4-day break in the middle, where we were free to travel around the country as we wished. Most people decided to do a tour of the Sahara Desert, but I decided to head elsewhere, partly because it was scarily expensive and partly because I have enough sand dunes at home in Michigan. Instead, my friend (and housemate) Chris and I decided to travel to the cities of Tangier and Chefchaouen.

Tangier is a city perched on the far northern tip of Morocco, just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Europe. It definitely has a very Mediterranean feel, with wide, airy streets, a cosmopolitan culture, and cool breezes blowing in from the sea all day. Or at least that's what I imagine a Mediterranean feel being like, since I've never actually been to the Mediterranean. Our hostel was in the medina of Tangier, the oldest section. The Medina of Rabat that I'd grown accustomed to is tame in comparison to medinas elsewhere in the country; it's laid out on a mostly-logical square grid, with comparatively few dead-end streets and the like. Everywhere else, the medinas are many centuries older (I'm pretty sure the medina of Tangier is at least from the 13th century), and wind up, down, around, over, and across without any method or order. It's like being in a maze, except with more street vendors and bad drivers. 

Upon arriving in the medina, we were greeted by a very friendly man named Ahmed, who took us through the labyrinthine streets to our hostel, charging nothing but the promise to visit his brother's souvenir shop at some point. We were later to learn that he was the exception to the rule; touristy spots like Tangier are full of Moroccan guys who will forcibly guide you to wherever you're going, regardless of whether or not you need guidance, and then demand exorbitant fees for it. I guess you have to make a profit somehow...

Our time in Tangier was mostly spent aimlessly wandering the streets, finding every scenic viewpoint we could, and sampling street food as we went. We didn't get to all the museums and other "must-see" parts of the city, but I did feel like we saw a lot more of the authentic Tangier, parts not often frequented by tourists.

Wind power is a big thing in Morocco, as I'll write more about in my next entry.

A typical street in the medina.

That's a traditional hat of the Berber people; I'm not entirely sure, but I think they might only wear them when they're selling things; I certainly didn't see them everywhere I went in small rural villages.

Not a great picture, but for the fact that that's Spain. The city could be Gibraltar, but I'm not entirely sure.

A typical Tangier street.

This beach probably would have been a great place to watch sunset. Oh well.

Our next stop was Chefchaouen, a small city nestled in the Rif mountain range. It's a huge tourist destination, for two main attractions. The first is the huge amount of marijuana available in the area; Morocco is actually the world's largest producer of cannabis, and it's estimated that the drug trade makes up 10% of the GDP. The Moroccan government is trying to crack down on production, but from what we could see, their efforts are half-hearted at best. European governments aren't generally as draconian as the United States with the drug policies, so there doesn't seem to be quite as much gang violence and things like that in Morocco, like there are in Mexico. Instead, there are just lots and lots of people trying to sell weed to tourists. This became readily apparent to us as soon as we arrived; the first person we met in Chefchaouen guided us to our hostel, then immediately told us he sold the "best hashish in Morocco". He was only the first of 11 different people to offer us drugs. So that got a little frustrating.

The second attraction was more worthwhile: the buildings of the Medina are all painted a lovely shade of deep blue. The city was home to a large population of Jews for centuries, who began the tradition of painting buildings blue- apparently it's good luck. My first feeling when we got into the medina was that we clearly weren't staying there long enough. The whole town has a very friendly, laid-back feeling, despite the huge volume of tourists, and it would be really easy to be stuck there for a week hiking the surrounding mountains and exploring the twisting alleyways of the medina. 

All the streets are painted like this.

View of the city from a Spanish mosque up on the hills.

Our first (and only) full day in Chefchaouen, we hiked out to a waterfall in the mountains we'd heard about. Chris and I arrived at the taxi station in the morning and paid for a "grand taxi" to the trailhead. Most grand taxis in Morocco are vans big enough to hold six passengers and the driver. These "grand taxis" were the same size as a normal taxi, the only difference being that the driver decided to squeeze six people into it instead of four. We ended up spending 45 minutes awkwardly cuddling with an Italian couple, while the Moroccan couple in the front seat just had to sit in each other's laps. The trail itself was beautiful, however. It was about 3 miles of hopping from one bank of a small mountain river to the other, in a beautiful canyon. The constant water meant that there was a lot of vegetation, that really didn't fit with the dry, dusty land just outside of it. And the waterfall itself was breathtaking; pictures really can't do it justice. Which doesn't mean I didn't try.

The view out the window of our cab on the way back- not bad.

Our final day, I spent a little time in the morning wandering the streets of the Medina, and then the rest of the day on an uncomfortable bus ride, followed by a (comparatively) luxurious train ride back to Rabat. I definitely left Chefchaouen with the feeling that I would have liked to stay for more time. That and the feeling that the vacation was too short to begin with, because boy have we been busy ever since. More about that soon.