Things I forgot to say in my previous post

I was in such a rush last night to get pictures of our trip to the Cascades d'Ouzoud up on my blog that only later did I realize I hadn't written about half of the things I had intended to. So here are some of those things, in no particular order:


- Even in places in Morocco where the landscape looks familiar (T and I have, on multiple occasions, been reminded of Wyoming and Montana), there are frequent reminders that I am in a foreign country. No matter how remote a road seems to be, there will always be pedestrians, hitchhikers, and people on donkeys traveling along that road. I often wonder where they're coming from and where they're going.

In remote locations, one is also likely to encounter people trying to sell things. When we got onto the mountain roads not far from Ouzoud, we started seeing people along the road holding up little bundles of fresh herbs and making a variety of mysterious gestures which we assume meant something like, "Please buy these herbs! I really need money. Don't you feel sorry for me?" And we did; we felt sorry for them.

Many of these people – many more than I would have guessed – were children, often very, very young children. As we drove, we discussed the pros and cons of stopping to buy some of the herb. (I think it was some kind of mountain thyme, but I'm not sure.) I imagine they couldn't have been selling the little bundles for more than one or two dirhams each, and I wonder what could possibly have been the maximum amount of money someone might bring home at the end of a long day of standing by the roadside. Seeing these people was a reminder both of how difficult the job situation is here (it's unimaginably worse than in the U.S., I guarantee) and of how hard people try to come up with ways of having even a tiny income.


- I should have taken the opportunity yesterday to spend a little more time explaining exactly what a riad is. Basically, a riad is a large, multilevel house with a central area that is open to the sky. Most of the riads I have stayed at (many have been converted into somewhat upscale bed and breakfasts) have had some form of covering on the rooftop terrace to provide some protection from the elements to the central patio/garden, but this is not always the case.

In the United States, indoor and outdoor spaces are usually carefully separated from each other; "indoor" and "outdoor" are mutually exclusive categories. This is not true in Morocco, and riads illustrate well the lack of a clear distinction between the two. As I mentioned in my previous post, the riad we stayed at has a full-sized orange tree growing in the middle of it. Above the orange tree, at the level of the rooftop terrace (another characteristic of a riad), a clear plastic tarp has been stretched to provide some protection from the rain (although there are a few inches on all sides that are not protected by the tarp, which means that one can get rained on while standing in certain places on the ground floor). At the center of the tarp is a large plastic tube that goes down to the base of the orange tree, so that when it rains the water follows the tube and waters the orange tree!

This lack of separation between indoor and outdoor means that, when the weather is nice, a riad is a lovely place for hanging out and relaxing. But when the weather is cold, the riad is also cold; many owners go to great lengths (and, I'm sure, expenses) to try to bring their riads up to Western standards of comfort regarding winter temperatures.




- T and I weren't particularly impressed by the breakfasts provided at the riad (by now we're a little tired of the usual Moroccan fare, which is very heavy in carbohydrates and acid), but we did get a special treat at dinner our first night there.

While Moroccans may cook a variety of interesting foods at home, only a small number of these foods are offered at restaurants. I'm not exactly sure why this is. But in any case, for the first time, we were able to try barley soup. Hicham, the riad employee responsible for serving us our meals, said that the soup is only found in the mountains, and I agree with him that we are unlikely to get to try it again. It was delicious, and I imagine it to be a very soothing and warming soup for the people of the mountains who must endure long, cold winters without anything remotely resembling central heating.

I have found a recipe that might be similar to what was served us, although the soup we had at the riad contained an aromatic herb (probably the herb we saw people selling on the side of the road) that added a wonderful element which I'm not likely to be able to reproduce.


- Here's a picture of the official bridge that could be used to cross the water at the bottom of the falls.

Unlike the United States, Morocco does not have a "liability" culture, so one gets to have delightful experiences like that of crossing this bridge. In fact, in no places did I see guardrails, fences, or warning signs designed to remind people not to fall to their deaths. And I liked not seeing those things, as they can be distracting and can obstruct some amazing views. :-)


- I have no idea how this guy got up here:

Having at one point stood above the area where he's sitting, I know that a) he is hundreds of feet above the ground, and b) there's essentially a straight vertical drop from the ground above him to where he sitting.

So how did he get there? And do you think it's possible that he lives in that little cave?

- Bread is a staple of the Moroccan diet, partly, I assume, because it's so affordable (or maybe it's the other way around – it's affordable because it's a staple). Bakeries are plentiful, but it is also traditional for people to bake their own bread. I have occasionally seen community ovens in the Medinas of cities, where women bring (or send their children with) the dough and bake it. In the village of Ouzoud, I saw several homes with outdoor ovens which look perfectly designed for baking bread. Observe:

I hope this long and somewhat rambling blog entry makes up for my relatively few entries these last few months. My part-time teaching job and school have kept me quite busy until very recently (the job ended last week, and school will be over for the semester early next week), and it has only been for the last month that I've felt well enough (health-wise) to be interested in exploring Morocco again.

So, incha'allah, over the next month – until I leave for the United States – I hope to entertain you more often with my pictures and tales and musings.

As always, thanks for reading. Over and out.