Escape to Paradise

We’ve quite a bit of catching up to do. In fact, it has been so long since I composed a thorough entry, I have to reference my journal to remember just where all I have been. I shall start on the 23^rd of October, when I was on the train home from a weekend of escape with friends. To follow that adventure was the end of Ramadan and a little school before it was time to embark upon the most extreme experience to date – a week in a rural village (which is to be covered in the next post for simplicity)

After the fantastic and relaxing weekend in Essaouira with my friends, we decided to take advantage of the first part of our 5-day weekend (for the end of Ramadan) and travel again. To ensure a good time, we went to Asilah, where one of us had already been once before. We crashed at an auberge by the sea that was run by a very friendly gentleman and his family. For just 30Dh a person (roughly 4 USD), we shared a room with couch-like beds. Though not the epitomy of comfort, the auberge was perfectly situated by the sea and far enough away from the medina to be comfortable. Our first night, we broke ftor at a restaurant then went in search of entertainment, which we found in the form of climbing the kasbah walls and enjoying live music in a sketchy café. The next morning, we woke at our leisure then embarked on a several kilometer hike to Paradise Beach. Along the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, we wandered from paved road to dirt road to meandering footpath and wound up at a vacant stretch of clean beach (or so it appeared from the high slope). When we arrived, we found it not as deserted or clean as we had hoped, but after walking a little ways, we found ourselves a personal sand dune with no trash. After only one nuisance offering to be our guide, we were left to ourselves to play in the sand, practice yoga, and take a chilling dip in the Atlantic – which brings me to a brief tangent –

Everytime I mention the Atlantic, I am certain that most of you are thinking of the quiet seashores of North and South Carolina (perhaps even of Florida), where the waves of about 5 feet (at most) crash on the sandy beaches; however, this Atlantic is far different than the African Atlantic. In parts of Morocco, including the shoreline we hiked to arrive in Paradise, sheer cliffs of several meters drop into the Atlantic, with no beach present at all, while at other parts, the oceans waves roll up to a clear sandbank (such as Paradise), but the waters are far different. The abundance of shells which I always associated with the beach are not present, and the waves at this particular beach broke several meters out. Proportionately, I was swimming in the same part of the surf that was the few inches I floundered in as a small child, but on this side of this vast ocean, the water was 3 to 4 feet several meters away from the actual break of the waves. So point of the tangent: the Atlantic is way cooler here than at home!

For the way home, we tried to hitch a ride with a donkey and cart, but it was full. Eventually we made it to a road where we caught a taxi and went for dinner. The next morning, we again woke to our leisure and eventually headed home as the end of Ramadan was predicted to come soon!

The evening I returned home was my final Ftor, as ‘Aid al-Fitr was the next day. On Tuesday, we all woke around 9:30am and was disappointed to see everyone changing out of their pajamas, as I had hoped for a Christmas-like approach to a festive morning (involving a slow meal in comfy clothes). Instead, everyone adorned their kaftans and traditional wear to receive family in the home. In Fes and Rabat, the women stay inside on the first day of celebration to receive family visitors, while the men make the rounds of the homes of cousins, uncles, brothers, sisters, etc. Because my homestay father is too ill to travel around, we had many family members come throughout the day – which meant LOTS of tea and cookies for me. In general, ‘Aid al-Fitr here in Morocco was less of a celebration than I had expected and what I had heard of from Oman; however, it was a restful and cheerful end to a month of challenge.

After ‘Aid, we returned to school on Thursday and Friday for two more days of class before the rural stay; however, I did not actually make it on Friday due to the worst of illness I have had here. I know I have not kept up on daily basics with most of you, but I have had a general trend of unceasing illness during my entire stay. Contrary to logical thought, I have not had many stomach-related issues, but rather a plague of head colds. On this particular Friday, I was unable to rise out of bed before 1 in the afternoon, at which I managed hitch a taxi to the doctor, which of course was an experience in itself. Aside from worry about an enlarged thyroid (which proved to be okay on the echogram), I was sent home with a few meds and an order to rest. Unfortunately, the next day I had to board a bus for several hours of driving to my rural stay. I did get well (enough).