Greetings from Essaouira, Morocco!

June 30, 2009

After a tediously long series of three planes, I landed in Casablanca, Morocco last Wednesday morning. Not long ago, I vowed that anywhere that takes three planes to get to likely isn’t worth getting to at all. I proceeded to take a four-hour train ride to Marrakech and another four-hour taxi transfer to a little village called Essaouira. Dare I say here that I’ll have to eat my own words: thirty-two hours of continuous travel, three planes, a train ride and an extended taxi transfer were absolutely, without a doubt, worth it.

Essaouira is a gorgeous, seaside village that Jimi Hendrix used to frequent. It still carries a bohemian vibe, and is known today for its wind-surfing, thanks to brisk sea breezes. Most inhabitants live quite modestly and are of Berber (African) descent, making their living as either fishermen or craftsmen. Essaouira used to be Morocco’s largest port city. If you looks closely, you can make out the wall that surrounds the village, which was all built in the 1700’s. Inside that wall is what they call the medina, or “walled city.” It’s the heart of Essaouria.

This is how Essaouria (say it “swear-uh”) got its nickname as the “Blue City.” All the fisherman’s boats are blue, as are all the doors and shutters in the medina. It’s strikingly beautiful in person. You may notice that the children are jumping off the bridge into the water. Over and over again…I probably watched them for a solid 30 minutes. On the subject of water, I was warned not to swim in it or consume it- lest I catch ebola or some such tragedy.

A sweet old fisherman I chatted up in Essaouira. He was lovely…

The sea gulls are obviously rather accustomed to people. This one was perched on a ledge overlooking some ruins off the coast of Essaouira. Sixteenth century, I think…

Thanks to the Gnaoua (also spelled Gnawa) World Music Festival, the town was full of rasta boys and hippie girls. This one saw me taking a photo of the boats from the Citadel above and ran to be in it. I love his posture, because it truly speaks volumes about the vibe of the entire town. The festival takes place the last week of June each year and this was the 12th edition.

Six stages, three days, 54 acts, a few hundred musicians and a half-million rasta boys and hippie girls jammin’ to beats from the US, Brazil, all over Africa and lots of native Berber music. This is my favorite act of the festival: Maleem Mahmoud Guinea, Afoxe Loni and Stephane Belmondo. AMAZING African song and dance…

The medina is a walled city with alleys and streets that wind and intersect without reason, designed in such a way as to confuse invaders. It worked brilliantly- at least on me. It took me 2.5 hours of solid walking to find my riad (Moroccan guesthouse) on the first day. There is little automotive traffic in the medina, because the “streets” are too narrow for cars. So lots of bikes and mopeds, but that’s about it. What there is plenty of is… shopping! There was an abundance of pottery: platters, bowls and tagines (those cone-shaped baking dishes that are native to Morocco) are the specialties. The colors are brilliant and all of the work is done is Essaouira. Inside all the winding alleys of the medina are the workshops of craftsmen whose families have been in the trade for generations: woodworkers, metal fabricators, tanneries, potters, etc. There are few price tags and haggling is the name of the game.

One thing I adored: there were scads and scads of children (and dogs and cats) running about everywhere. Their toys were usually balls or string, but they cared not. They all spoke French, so I understood nothing more than “Bon Jour” and “Merci”, but they were lovely nonetheless. The mothers just let the kids run loose to play and they would all run home for lunch. Ahhhh, the good old days. As an aside, the medina in Essaouira has been declared an UNESCO World Heritage Listed site.

I stayed for 3 days in Essaouira, doing some research for an upcoming project and attending the Gnaoua Festival. It was an incredible experience and, though I left 3 days ago, I still have Essaouira on the brain. Here are a few random observations:

* The people are incredibly warm and generous. In my experience (and that’s all I can speak from), visits to the third world or developing countries often leave me feeling like my bones have been picked clean. And with good reason: the prices on everything from taxi rides to lunch to handmade goods are exaggerated by as much as five or ten times the local price for Western tourists. Yes- you can and should bargain, but some days I just want to know how much my cous cous is going to cost for lunch, rather than engaging in a 5-minute back-and-forth over the cost of goods. In Essaouira, I still haggled, but the process was distilled to its essence and I never felt robbed blind. In contrast, my trip to Cairo in February was my most expensive trip-to-date and I was absolutely exhausted by the end of the day from debating the price of every last thing I needed. I appreciated that Essaouira spared me the lion’s share of this awkward dance.

* My inherently flirty nature does not lend itself to the Arab world. I have long thought that, and now will cease my internal debate on the subject. I am friendly and comfortable with just about anyone that crosses my path. Arab men (and Moroccan men in particular), read this almost as a proposition. I am certain it has much to do with the limited contact between unmmaried males-and-females in the Islamic culture, blended with the traditional Muslim dress for women which obscures a good deal of their physical beauty. So a western woman in a sundress (mind you, I always drape with a pashmina) and a warm smile and chatty nature is just too big a carrot for them not to chomp. For example, I asked my taxi driver how long the leg of one trip would be. He answered “four hours”… exhausted and giddy, I placed my hand on his arm and said then “Do you mind if I take a nap? I’ve been traveling all day and a four hour window is too good to pass up.” Next thing I know, I have his card and an invitation to dinner. While the fundamentals of male/female interaction are the same as here in the states, it’s a bit like speed dating- it takes scant little to get yourself in hot water and one can go from zero-to-sixty in seconds.

* Moroccan people in general are not afraid to voice their opinions. They aren’t restricted by the traditional American niceties and will voice their disdain for things without hesitation. This manifested itself in several ways: I shared a table at lunch in the medina one day with a woman and her son. Actually, they just came and sat at the empty seats at my table. The manager asked them to leave and they refused; he then asked if I minded and I said they were welcome to stay. The interaction was entirely in French, so I didn’t catch the nuances, but she later became aggravated at the lack of service and blessed him out, up one side and down the other (I understand a good cursing in almost any language). Granted, the restaurant was by one of the festival stages and the poor waiter was slammed. Whereas I might just tip less, in this culture, it’s apparently tip less AND bless out. Noted.

I also came upon not one, but two streetfights. The first was a rather large tussle between a group of young men returning from the festival. It was after 3am, I had been wandering the streets for an hour trying to find my riad when all of a sudden, fists started flying in Essaouira. It was so sudden and so widespread that it was all I could do to plaster myself flat against a wall and pray for it to be over with quickly. I could not pass and was shoved a bit in the process, but none the worse for the wear. The second skirmish occurred in the medina in Marrakech and involved two incredibly angry gentleman, one of who was grasping the other by the throat and throwing him against walls. Not nice, but this one was contained enough so that I could just keep walking quickly. Thank heavens. I’d like to reiterate that- save for these incidents- I felt safer in Essaouira than I have as a woman alone in most countries. These were displays of chauvinistic tendencies- which I have a feeling are not isolated incidents- but they were contained to those “gentleman” involved.

* I absolutely must put in a plug for the riad where I stayed. The staff of the Riad Lotus Marine was the warmest I have encountered anywhere in the world. They served breakfast and dinner every night- in your room, on the terrace or in the restaurant. You had to knock and be let in (so it was all very secure) and Hassan, the night manager, waited up for me until ungodly hours every night I was there, without a single complaint. They noticed if I missed a meal, constantly offered beverages and snacks, walked me to destinations in the medina I had trouble finding and provided VIP passes for every night of the Gnaoua Festival. If you’re ever in Essaouira, please consider the Riad Lotus Marine for accommodations, as I can recommend them without hesitation.

* And who did I run into in the back of a shop (I was picking up castonettes for a friend) in Essaouira, but Bob Wisdom from the TV show “Prison Break.” Ha! Seems he’s been coming to the Gnaoua Festival for six years and this particular shopkeeper has become like a second family to him. He was incredibly relaxed and friendly and we enjoyed a pot of mint tea together.

As an aside, I look a hot mess because I had been in my room at the riad, fresh from a morning shower, when I heard a samba band trolling through the medina streets, in an impromptu parade. I tossed on clothes and took my wet head outside to follow them. On the way back, eyed the castonettes, went to buy them and ran into a certified Hollywood star. And I was totally unaware of how transparent that t-shirt was, but it’s now clear to me why I was continually complimented with such vigor that morning in the medina. Lovely.

I uploaded a small slice of the performance by Maleem Mahmoud Guinea, Afoxe Loni and Stephane Belmondo from the Gnaoua Festival to YouTube. If you enjoy African music and feel so moved, I invite you to view it by clicking below. This particular stage is on a peninsula, so that’s the sea both behind and in front of the stage, and a view of the citadel can be seen as well. The gentleman in red who dances briefly at the end has on a fez (one of those traditional African hats with a tassle) and the entire band keeps those swinging as they play their instruments- though you can’t really make it out in the video. It’s almost hypnotic…

I also filmed the aformentioned samba band’s parade through the medina. The video is a whopping twenty-five minutes long and is in the process of uploading as I type. Unfortunately, it has an estimated 18 hours left (I only wish I was kidding), so I’ll plug that link in here sometime Wednesday. It’s an insanely long (and sometimes a tad shaky) video, but it shows a walk through the medina, gives you a flavor for the local people and has some admirable samba drumming as well.

As I mentioned, I’ve moved on from Essaouira, and Morocco, for that matter. Unfortunately, while there, I had tremendous problems with my internet and am behind in my blogging as a result. I have lengthy posts in the works about a small village called Asni, Kasbah Tamadot (Sir Richard Branson’s Moroccan Retreat), my visit to an argan oil cooperative and a one-night-stay in Marrakech. I’ll get to those over the next few days and appreciate your sharing my travels!

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