Familiar Faces and Prodigious Places

Has it really been 18 days since I last checked in? Where does the time go? I blog to you today on our 81st day of being here in Morocco, which means we have just over three weeks left in this beautiful country. This trip has been great, but that crisp Colorado air is calling my name.

Home sweet home. Complete with plants. I feel like an adult.

As I mentioned in my last post, Al, Caitlin, Olivia, and I have moved into a home together inside the medina, not far from the CCCL. The home is a very traditional Moroccan home, but very clean and modern. We each have our own room, a small kitchen, and a beautiful terrace. An older woman lives on the second floor of the house, but has her own amenities and generally keeps to herself.

Olivia and Caitlin are both talented chefs, and the nearby vegetable market, which the J-Squad has dubbed "Vegetable Alley," provides us fresh and inexpensive food to cook with.

These past few weeks have gone way faster than expected. We've kept in touch with the other J-Squaders, many of who live around the medina. One group is renting an apartment not far from the medina and another scored a beautiful house with an incredible view in the nearby Kasbah des Oudaias.

Dennis and Aimee stand in front of Hassan Tower, the
minaret of an incomplete mosque. Construction halted in
1199 after its founder's death and the minaret stands
about half as tall as intended.

This past weekend, we had the pleasure of hosting Frankie Stiles for her 21st birthday. Through a family connection, she found a nice home 20-30 minutes south of Rabat, so she wanted to come rejoin civilization to celebrate.

During the same weekend, my friend Dennis Smith flew down from studying abroad in Italy to visit. Another friend from DU, Aimee Wagner, who is studying abroad in Meknes, took the train into Rabat as well. We checked out the Hassan Tower and the adjacent Mausoleum of Mohammed V, took some time to pet the cats in the Andalusian Garden of the Oudaia Kasbah, and strolled along the beaches of the Atlantic Ocean. We had limited time, but it was great to reunite with the two of them.

The minaret of the Hassan II Mosque
in Casablanca towers 60 stories high.

In two days, the first draft of our Independent Study story is due, so everyone is working hard to make sure that comes together. The day that Dennis and Aimee took off, I took the train down to Casablanca with my Moroccan journalist partner, Nora, to meet with a couple more members of the Oukasha family. It turned out to be a tremendously productive interview, and afterwards, one of them offered to take us on a walk to the Hassan II Mosque.

Depending on who you ask, the mosque could be the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, or 10th largest mosque in the world. It is undisputedly the largest in Morocco and Africa, and its minaret, which stands 689 feet, is the tallest in the world.

While we didn't get the chance to go inside, it is one of few mosques that actually allows non-muslim visitors on guided tours. Still though, walking around the massive structure is a humbling experience. The detail put into every square inch of the mosque is absolutely incredible. The new background to this blog is one particular mosaic that caught my eye. The photo I took of it is now my background on pretty much anything that has a background.

I also forgot to mention that I now have two articles posted on Reporting Morocco. The first, called A Water Problem, is a profile on Karime, the friendly man we spent some time with during our village stay. The second is a Reporter's Notebook called Helping a Friend and Offending a Local, in which I talk about an interaction Katherine and I had with a man in Essaouira. Check them out if you please!

That's all for now. Thanks for reading!

Blue City and Border Crossing

Greetings from Rabat once again, my friends!

Our classes out of the CCCL have been becoming fewer and farther between over the last two weeks, and they are now officially over. We have entered the Independent Study portion of our trip, and the days have been devoted mostly to organizing the logistics of living on our own for five weeks.

Clinging onto the base of the Rif Mountains, the city was painted blue
by the Jewish refugees that populated it in the 30s. Today, the town
is a tourist haven and destination for people from all over the world.

With the help of my Moroccan journalist partner, Nora Znaidi, we were able to set up an interview with El-Haqed, a relatively infamous Moroccan rapper who was just released from prison for the third time this year. You can learn about him in his recent op-ed piece in Al Jazeera. His interview helped to drive our stories for Independent Study. More on that later.

Last weekend, we took our last excursion as a group to Chefchaouen and Ceuta. Only two days and one night, the excursion went by fast and ended abruptly, which was kind of a bummer. However, I was also experiencing the worst food-induced discomfort I’ve had since I’ve been here. Not great timing, but the excursion was a good experience nonetheless.

We loaded the buses and took off bright and early on Sunday morning for the city of Chefchaouen, Morocco's Blue City. We didn't spend much time there, only enough for me to do a little shopping and get some coffee, but I plan to return during the ISJ period.

In the nearby countryside, you will find the largest acreage of cannabis cultivation in the world. By some estimates, the Rif Mountains produce somewhere around half of the world’s hashish, a number which has increased since the 80s.

Cassie, Al, Zoe, Caitlin, and Raven after
successfully crossing the border. Photos
are strictly forbidden anywhere near the
actual border crossing.

Of course, cannabis possession and cultivation is illegal in Morocco. The Moroccan government has displayed interest in eradicating the crop, and the Royal Gendarmerie continually publicizes raids on various farms. Behind the curtain though, it is said gendarmes ask for bribes, as many as three a year, from the farmers of the region to continue their operations.

The evidence of cannabis production is everywhere walking through the medina of Chefchaouen. I was offered hashish by at least three or four different men in the street in the two hours I was there, and once more from a waiter at a café we had drinks at.

After a good night’s sleep in a very nice hotel in the Mediterranean city of M’diq, it was off to the Spanish enclave of Ceuta, located on the Northern coast of Africa. Crossing the border on foot was an eye-opening experience. Hundreds of Moroccans were lined up, some pushing their cars to save gas, some on foot, to cross the border into Spain. Quarter-mile long cages were packed tight with men and women, many shouting and climbing over each other.

It was difficult to shake a sense of undeserved privilege as we walked past the crowds, led by our fearless leader Badrdine, and with our American passports in hand. The purpose of the trip over the border was to renew our Moroccan visas. While the maneuver is of questionable legality, visa extension applications take too long to process.

The beaches of the Mediterranean Sea in Ceuta. A beautiful
and relaxing end to the excursion.

After a short bus tour, we were let go to explore the enclave for a couple hours by ourselves. I had a delicious club sandwich at a small outdoor café--the first sliced bread I’ve seen in two months. From the architecture to the friendly people in the streets, the city is nothing like Morocco. We spent a little time hanging out on the beach of the Mediterranean Sea, took some photos, and then crossed back over the border into Morocco.

The last few days have been little else besides house hunting, topic refining, and sleeping in. I blog to you now from the terrace of the beautiful house I will be staying in for the next five weeks with Al Drago, Caitlin McCallister, and Olivia Allen. I'll include photos in the next post. Thanks for reading!