Bus People

This week, I took a city bus from Meknes for about an hour to visit Moulay Idriss, and back. These were some of the things I saw:

• As a blind man boarded, and another man got up to help him get to a seat. Later, two people helped him exit at the correct stop, and helped him down the steps.
• The bus was full, and every young person got up to offer a seat to elderly people and women with small kids.
• There were three of us who were obviously foreigners and the passengers sitting near us made an effort to find words in a common language with us. One man said to me, “You are welcome here.”
• Waiting for the return bus, we were encouraged to stay in the shade on the opposite side of the road until the bus came. The man who ran the corner bodega there was seemingly mute, but the kids buying candy from him communicated with him like it was no big deal, and we understood him when he gestured that the bus would be coming soon.
• A vegetable seller dropped off a huge sack of fresh peas and the bodega guy offered us a taste, then showed us how to turn the empty pod into a noise maker. He waved us a heartfelt goodbye when we got on the return bus.
• When the bus was really full, people sat on the steps in the aisle, and everyone helped everyone else stow their packages out of the way to make as much space as possible.
• Sitting on the aisle step next to me was a man of about 30 years. He saw that there wasn’t space for a woman with a baby and a toddler to sit. He beckoned for the woman to hand him the baby and it slept on his lap for the next half hour.
• Getting off the bus, people wished us well, waved at us. One woman kissed our cheeks and told us, "Peace be with you" in Arabic.

All of this humanity on a city bus.

On the same day, I also saw Volubilis and Moulay Idriss -- two ancient sites that have massive cultural and religious significance. But the 70-cent bus ride left a lasting impression.

There Are Three Kinds Of Camels, This Is One Of Them

The dromedary. A sturdy beast, yet gangly and deliberate in its stride. Not foul of odor but indeed a little grumpy. And you would be, too, if your job was to carry tourists across the valleys and ridges of fine Sahara sand dunes.

Dromedaries are the one-humped camels that cast an evocative silhouette. Their cousins are the Bactrian and wild Bactrian camels, both of which have two humps and one of which has a radically different hairstyle. In North Africa and the Middle East, you will find dromedaries; the other two camels make Central and East Asia their home.

Far out at the eastern edge of Morocco is the town of Merzouga, surrounded on three sides by flat expanses of desert and on one side but luminous sand dunes that look painted on the horizon. Here, we and few other tourists gathered in fine, silty sand and got our first look at the camels that would carry us over the mountains of sand to the tents we would sleep in for the night.

We stood curious, amused and uncertain as the camels shifted on their large padded feet and snorted their objections in no obvious direction. The camel handlers lined them up and looped the rope lead from one camel's neck to the saddle of the camel in front of it, creating a small camel train, and coaxed them all to sit down in the sand. Their legs folded under them in a confusion of joints that seem to bend in the opposite direction you'd expect, until they settled on their calloused haunches, bellies in the sand. Their singular humps were obscured by a saddle covered in thick piles of blankets, with one metal horn sticking out for the rider to hang onto. We each had one quick chance to swing a leg over the saddle and get in position, because the movement spurred the camel to immediately stand, bucking forwards and backwards as it lumbered to its full height.

Three Berbers watch the day’s camel preparations just after sunrise. 

The guys working with the camels were Berber, wearing traditional blue Berber robes and head scarves. Several of them were from nomad families and lived as nomads through part of their childhoods. Once we were all saddled and tied together, Mustafa took the lead camel's rope in hand and starting walking away from town and straight into the dunes.

"Les dunes de sables de Merzouga" create a vast landscape of saffron-colored peaks, with the footprints of camel trains marking pathways to tiny Berber camps hidden in the dunes' valleys. Our vantage point on the landscape shifted as we rode up, over, around, and down through the dunes, sinking us low among smooth hills of sand, and popping us up high on a crisp ridge with a view to the far off horizon and the Algerian border.

There were eight of us in the camel train, Americans and western Europeans, exhibiting various degrees of nervousness. Not too far into the trek two of the camels were switched out, accused of being too tempermental. Our camels walked nose to tail, and followed each others' cues closely. Liz was riding behind me and every time we paused, her camel moved forward an extra step and nuzzled its face alongside my saddle. Such a cutie!

We didn't ride more than an hour before we arrived at a group of square-framed tents made of heavy wool blankets. They were grouped together forming a tiny encampment attached to a large dining tent. Nestled in the sand low in a valley with a dune towering above it, this was our home for the night.

At sunset, we hiked to the top of the highest nearby dune, each footfall sinking deep into the fine sand. We sat along the dune's ridge and watched the sand change colors in the waning light. One of the Americans had grabbed the beat up vintage snowboard from the Berber camp and we took turns "sledding" down the sand dune. Totally undignified and very fun way to fill your clothes with sand.

After a tajine dinner, everyone in the camp gathered at the fire pit and our Berber hosts sang and played goatskin drums and krakebs, iron castanets. A small group of us hiked back up to the top of the dune to take in the stars on a night that defied the warning that the desert would be very cold after sunset.

And in the morning, one more hike up our neighborhood dune! Sunrise was beautiful and quiet. We sat on the sandy ridgeline watching the colors of the sand shift and glow as the sun grew brighter and cast sharper shadows.

We are tourists and we wanted to ride camels. For sure, that is exactly the experience we got - tourists riding camels. But even still, watching these fabulous, funny animals up close was a treat, and peaceful hours contemplating the endless stretch of sand dunes was time well spent.

Americans! On camels!

[February 20-21, 2018]

Travel Karma In Marrakech

The courtyard at the center of our riad, home for the next three nights.

The few hours we've spent in Marrakech have proven the advice I'd heard from several people: Casablanca is okay, but Marrakech! Marrakech is amaaaaazing.

Liz rallied through jet lag, arriving on a red-eye in the morning and going straight to the train station for the three-and-a-half hour ride to Marrakech. I had purchased our tickets and learned the tram system the day before, and we made the train with zero problems. In Marrakech, we were booked at a riad, a guest house converted from a traditional home. Riads, there are thousands to choose from, but most evoke traditional architecture, homestyle hospitality and a peaceful escape from the city that swirls outside the riad's walls.

But being nestled deep in a neighborhood of tightly wound and high-walled streets, most riads offer to meet guests in the city and escort them in, and Liz and I were expecting our to meet host at the train station. Sadly, our host was expecting to meet us at the airport, and so we stood for a few minutes in the modern, earth-toned Marrakech train station unsure what to do.

Enter Jamal.

As we were figuring out how to call the riad (I swear, using phones internationally drains me of all travel confidence) Jamal offered to help us place the call on his cell phone. He works for a tour agency and had a few minutes while he was waiting.

The phone line was busy, but Jamal finished the task that had brought him to the train station and offered to help us catch a bus to the medina. He was going that way to meet up with friends, and our stop was one beyond his. As we waited for the bus he told us that actually he would go with us to our stop and help us find the right direction to walk in. I had perfect change to pay for our three bus tickets, and he laughed off the offer. "You are kind!" he smiled. "And because you are kind I will walk with you the whole way to find your riad."

The bus was slow to show up, and Jamal had friends to meet so he suggested a taxi instead, and then paid for the taxi against our protestations. We walked into the medina, following Jamal and peppering him with questions about his work (he arranges tours to Mecca) and his family (his mother is still living, his father has died) and the languages he knows (he lived in Japan for 10 years and taught Arabic there.)

Fast forward an hour, and Jamal had personally guided us to our riad, stopping at least eight times to ask directions of local shopkeepers as we wound through the maze of earthen walls and vendors selling shoes, souvenirs and tiny live turtles. I asked if we were making him late, and he assured us, no problem, and we kept walking briskly through the vendors and locals and tourists.

Jamal works in tourism, and has traveled extensively himself, and it was natural for him to want to help us, he said. People have helped him countless times. The situation unfolded from his kindness and taking the next logical step, but by the end his generosity was remarkable. At every stop, his smile and warm exchange with a shopkeeper offering directions was delightful and genuine. When we arrived at the riad and learned the driver was waiting at the airport, I could easily imagine a person in Jamal's position being irritated, at least. You made made a mistake that inconvenienced your guests, and I went out of my way to correct it for you.

That's one way you might look at it.

But as our riad host explained the logistics mishap, Jamal laughed and smiled understandingly. It's a mistake anyone could make! Aren't we all fortunate that ended it well? And it was lovely to meet you! The sun is setting over the old town and I'm going to meet my friends for tea. Would you like to meet us? Cafe du France, on the terrace overlooking the market. Peace be with you.

Me, Jamal and Liz, moments after finding the front door of our riad.