By By Linda Pappas Funsch
Special to The News-Post
Photo by Photo courtesy of Linda Pappas Funsch Young women meet on the Boulevard de la Corniche in Casablanca, Morocco.
Editor’s note: This is the second in a three-part series on Morocco. Part 1, “Crossroads of cultures,” appeared in the Jan. 22 edition of Horizon. Part 3, “Desert adventure into the Sahara,” appears in today’s Travel & Outdoors section on page D-1.As a lifelong student of Middle Eastern history and Islamic culture, I have lived, studied and worked in many countries throughout the region. In the summer of 2011, I set out on a journey to Morocco, my first to northwest Africa, with a delegation of U.S. educators sponsored by the National Council on U.S.-Arab Relations. Throughout the 10 days of this cultural immersion tour, we were afforded the opportunity to experience this unique land on a level not generally available to the commercial traveler. The first five days of our journey included visits to the modern capital of Rabat, the imperial city of Meknes, the Roman ruins of Volubilis, and to Fez — the historic center of the Atlas Mountains.
On day six, we left Fez for the rich and diverse landscape of the Moroccan interior. This leg of our trip, while fascinating, would prove to be long and arduous. Tightly packed into two comfortable passenger vans, made all the more “cozy” by our stash of newly acquired carpets, pottery and leather goods, our group continued the journey into the heartland.
‘Excellence and identity’
Nestled in the heart of the Middle Atlas Mountains and surrounded by dense forests of cedar is the town of Ifrane. At 5,000 feet above sea level, Ifrane is a community of pristine red-roofed, chalet-type dwellings evocative of Switzerland. A popular destination for city dwellers seeking relief from the blistering heat of the North African summer, it is best-known as the home of Al-Akhwayn University.
Founded in 1995, this prestigious institution was funded largely by a generous gift from the late King Fahd of Saudi Arabia. Following a U.S.-style liberal arts curriculum, Al-Akhwayn (Arabic, “two brothers”) educates approximately 1,700 students, the majority of whom are female. While the primary language of instruction is English, the university’s Arabic language center is internationally accredited, drawing students from around the world.
Strolling around the beautifully manicured residential campus, featuring rosemary parterres, Morocco’s premier private university boasts state-of-the-art facilities, both academic and recreational. From “smart,” tech-savvy classrooms to an immense “open-stack” library, the first of its kind in the country, to an oversized sports facility with an Olympic-sized swimming pool, this school lacks neither amenities nor the determination to excel. Added to the fact that 87 percent of its new graduates are employed successfully within the first six months, it is easy to see why Al-Akhwayn is the pride of the land.
Making friends
Inspired by the impressive faculty and outstanding young adults at Al-Akhwayn, we resumed our ascent deeper into the Middle Atlas range. Near the town of Azrou, we spotted what are reputedly the oldest inhabitants of this region: the Barbary macaque, better known as the Barbary ape. Assessing us with a combination of curiosity and indifference, we discovered these legendary primates comfortably perched both on the forest floor as well as in the thick, green canopies overhead. In this particular locale, it was clear who the interlopers were.
Heading south, fields of brilliant red poppies and lush green vegetation gave way to patches of scrub brush and red clay earth. Periodically, the tents of nomads could be spotted beyond the road’s edge. At one site, while exploring a primitive — but ingenious — network of wells in one such encampment, a Berber man, sporting a fashionably trimmed beard under a turban of swirling green and purple tones, emerged from his goatskin tent. Gesturing for us to enter this archetypal dwelling, closed on three sides and carpeted with colorful native rugs, he invited us to share tea, a reminder of the legendary hospitality for which Bedouin across this region are known.
Chef’s special
It seemed that at almost every turn, our road trip through the eastern reaches of Morocco revealed surprising and dramatic contrasts. Beyond the town of Midelt, the dry, red belt of desert suddenly yielded to the fertile valley of Ziz, thick with oases nurturing date palms fed by flowing streams.
In Midelt, we stopped for a late lunch at the Hotel Taddart. Having sampled, by this time, almost every conceivable variety of tagine, the classic national stew, this intrepid traveler decided to bypass that in favor of something new. Perusing the French-language menu, the choice became obvious: cameaux.
“And how does Madam prefer her camel?”
“Medium well, of course!”
Having absorbed the flavors of an olive oil, lemon juice and allspice marinade, our steaks were roasted over hot coals and served with a side dish of fried potatoes. The lean camel meat was reminiscent of beef, delicious and surprisingly tender. A wise choice, to be sure.
Road … to Marrakesh
After an unforgettable interlude in the great Sahara, we set off from the dry, arid plains of the western desert, under a crystal-clear sky, for yet another exciting destination: legendary Marrakesh.
According to our driver, Hamed, this would be a challenging and tiring endeavor — for him, at least. Navigating the narrow roads and hairpin turns in the High Atlas range would require utmost vigilance, he cautioned. We had faith.
Warnings aside, he did not prepare us for the spectacular sights we would experience along the way. Driving through the lush Tishka valley, over roads lined with miles of purple oleander and masses of brilliant yellow flowers, was a wondrous sight. Ascending the High Atlas, soaring at its height to 13,500 feet, the views were breathtaking; and so, literally, was the altitude. Stopping along the side of the road, we encountered a Berber goat herder who assessed us with some skepticism — and likely amusement — as we enthusiastically took photos of his scrawny charges.
‘Pearl of the South’
It was midafternoon before we entered Marrakesh. Tired after our long trip and nearly overcome by the intense heat, we were energized nonetheless by the anticipation of the sights and sounds that awaited us in this storied city. Situated in a wide valley between the peaks of the High Atlas, this 11th-century city was catapulted into modern Western consciousness during the height of the cultural revolution in the 1960s and ’70s as a variety of roving hippies, spiritual seekers, and artists — from Andy Warhol and Yves Saint Laurent to the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin and The Beatles, transformed this vibrant center into a “hip” destination through their art, design and music.
Fortunately, the true essence of Marrakesh, the “Pearl of the South,” has endured. Its residents, or Marrakshis, have preserved much of what has drawn visitors to this imperial city of almost 2 million people for generations. Its medieval structures, labyrinthine alleys and impressive historic monuments have a transformative effect, transporting even the most jaded visitor to another era, both mysterious and exotic.
With July temperatures hovering near 117 degrees Fahrenheit, we were grateful for the relative luxury of the Al- Andalous hotel, bathed in tones of red ocher, a welcome venue featuring all manner of modern convenience, including air conditioning, a swimming pool … and ice cubes.
Where the action is
The veritable heart of Marrakesh is Djemma al-Fna (“assembly place of the nobodies”), a vibrant open-air venue where snake-charmers, potion-sellers and acrobats compete with castanet-clanging water vendors and spirited salespeople for the attention of passers-by. This immense plaza, whose parade of characters would put Barnum and Bailey’s circus to shame, is ringed with a maze of covered markets offering everything from carpets, leather goods, spices and clothing to CDs and the latest electronic gadgets. On the afternoon of our arrival, purveyors of freshly squeezed orange juice were doing a particularly brisk business under the blistering heat of the Moroccan sun.
Under the leadership of our guide, Muhammed, we visited a number of historical and cultural sites in Marrakesh, including the Saadien Tombs, a 17th-century complex of chambers, mausoleums and graveyards for members of the royal family of Sultan Ahmed Al-Mansour and privileged government officials, and the Bahia Palace, a 19th-century architectural marvel whose opulent ornamentation of painted, inlaid and gilded ceilings, and ornately carved stucco arches suggest a lifestyle appropriate to a grand vizier.
At the site of the Koutoubia mosque, we gazed in wonder at the 12th-century minaret, reaching 230 feet into the sky, the second-oldest such structure in Morocco and a prototype for subsequent Moorish architectural landmarks.
Finally, against the dramatic backdrop of the Atlas Mountains, we reached the Menara gardens, featuring paths winding among clusters of towering trees and colorful flower beds, offering a welcome respite from the sun. At one end of this sanctuary stands a tall pavilion. Local legend has it that, in times of old, a particular sultan would dispense certain courtesans and unwelcome guests by pushing them from the tower into the large pool below.
Commercial hub
The final leg of our Moroccan adventure would take us to Casablanca, the country’s economic capital. After more than a week of traversing the country, our band of travelers, still reeling from the intense heat of Marrakesh, headed northwest on a modern four-lane highway toward the more temperate Atlantic coastline. The drive to this thriving commercial center would take less than four hours.
Approaching the city, past a high-end residential district known as California, we encountered an orderly demonstration of striking toll collectors carrying placards. Ushered through the toll plaza without proffering the usual tariff, our driver Houssam weighed in on this curious scene.
“This is good,” he allowed. “Democracy.”
On a Sunday evening, the coastal Boulevard de la Corniche, was packed with people enjoying the fresh ocean breezes and casual socialization. Families spanning generations, with both children and grandparents in tow, filled the sidewalks. Young couples, walking arm in arm, found this a romantic, if public, setting — an acceptable combination in this conservative society.
A more colorful sight would be difficult to imagine. Moroccans, sporting vibrant hues and wearing everything from traditional djellabas, headscarves and pointed leather slippers to Western-influenced blue jeans and sneakers, strolled through this public space. Stopping at food vendors to enjoy everything from ice cream to escargot, they chatted with friends and family, placating restless toddlers with colorful toys and sweets.
Looking for Bogey
As the orange sun slowly set over the sea on the western horizon, our group, anticipating a long flight home, decided to celebrate our last evening in Morocco in style. Entering Rick’s Caf?, inspired by the iconic film, “Casablanca,” starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, we were met with the smooth, sophisticated sounds of live jazz emanating from a first-floor room.
The interior d?cor of this stately white stucco building was elaborate and in every way evocative of colonial Morocco during World War II, with Tiffany-style lamps illuminated by gas, passages marked by arches and columns, and beaded curtains separating rooms.
Ushered to a second-floor dining room by a smartly dressed attendant wearing a red, tasseled fez, we spied a game room, replete with billiard table, in which the original black-and-white version of “Casa- blanca” played continuously on a large, flat-screen TV. We were transported to another time and place by the ambience.
As time goes by …
After dining on an appetizer of goat cheese salad with figs, followed by a main course of grilled lamb chops with mint pesto, couscous with preserved fruit, and accompanied by a splendid bottle of Moroccan Coteaux de l’Atlas, I reflected on another incredible adventure that was about to end. In a spirit of bonhomie, my traveling companions and I took turns toasting one another, recalling highlights and sharing impressions of our Moroccan adventure, celebrating our resilience and collegiality, and vowing to stay in touch.
Linda Pappas Funsch, a Middle East specialist, teaches courses at Frederick Community College’s Institute for Learning in Retirement. She is currently writing a book about the history and culture of Oman. She writes from Frederick. Contact her at lindafunsch @gmail.com.
Morocco trivia• It was the first country to recognize the independent republic of the United States of America.
• Morocco welcomed American ships to its ports in 1777, two years in to the American Revolution.
• It houses the oldest U.S. Embassy in the world.
• Morocco hugs the coasts of both the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea.
• It is ethnically and religiously diverse, its citizens are African, Arab, Berber and Tuareg; they speak many languages and observe a variety of religious traditions.
• The landscape is green and fertile, parched and arid, cold and hot, flat and mountainous, featuring forests of densely clustered cedars and endless expanses of searing desert.
• It is the only North African country without oil.
• It is the only Arab country which was not invaded by the Ottoman Turks.
• Morocco’s head of state, tracing his lineage to the Prophet Muhammad, carries the title “Commander of the Faithful” (amir al-mu’mineen in Arabic).
