Travel Flashback #1: Visiting the imperial cities with Dad

Today, I resolved to update this blog. I am perpetually shamed by friends who write way more diligently than I do, and by family and friends who request updates. I have no real excuse, except that the more time passes, the more overwhelmed I become. I am falling into the black hole of blog back-entries.

In an attempt to pull myself out of the black hole (please picture me clawing my way out of a vortex, shouting, "I will not let you win, Blogspot!"), I will take you back several months to March 19th, when I boarded the train from Rabat to Casablanca to pick up my dad from the airport. Dad had visited me in Egypt. He survived there and, as I often tell people, Egypt is about a million times more crazy than Morocco, but I was still nervous for several reasons: I'd planned our trip so we'd be traveling mainly but the notoriously insane Moroccan trains; debilitating stomach issues aren't uncommon for first-time travelers to Morocco; and Morocco can be incredibly overwhelming for travelers who don't speak French or Arabic.

Despite the worries floating around in the back of my head, I was excited to host my first Moroccan visitor. I often tell people that an unofficial part of my grant is being a tour guide. Fulbright emphasizes cross-cultural understanding, and I'm always excited to show around guests who would never visit Morocco if I didn't live here.

And so I greeted my dad at the airport. We made our way to the train, which would take us to Fes, our destination for that day. Our plan was to visit each of Morocco's four imperial cities: Fes, Meknes, Rabat, and Marrakesh. All are accessible by train, and, since we didn't want to rent a car, this was imperative. While we waited for our transfer, my dad made an upsetting discovery: He had left his camera on the plane. Not his plane from Paris to Casablanca, but from Boston to Paris. Yikes. I handed my camera over to him and told him that it was his for the next 10 days.


To my delight, it wasn't difficult to find seats in our second-class car, and Dad was able to experience firsthand Moroccan train culture, where it is almost impossible not to engage in conversation with your fellow travelers. By the time we arrived to Fes, we had some new friends and several couscous offers.

Once in Fes, we made our way to the Hotel Batha, located right outside the medina and close to my old house. After getting settled, we walked up to one of the cheap restaurants near Bab Boujloud that overlook the city, where my dad enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the crowded market.

The next day was Friday, and so we opted to avoid the deserted Fes medina and take a day trip to Volubilis, ancient Roman ruins located near Meknes, another imperial city about an hour from Fes. We arranged for a grande taxi to take us to the ruins, and enjoyed the scenery and dodged the European tour groups that filled the site.




After we visited the ruins, our taxi driver took us to Moulay Idriss, a small but beautiful shrine town (dedicated to Moulay Idriss I, one of Morocco's most powerful rulers) with one of the only circular minarets in Morocco. We were guided up a winding series of stairs to a lookout point where we could see the whole city.


After spending a few minutes in the deserted Meknes medina (it was Friday, after all), we returned to Fes, ready to conquer the city the following day.

The next morning, we embarked upon my standard medina tour, armed with the fabulous Fes guidebook "From Bab to Bab." Shooing away faux guides and real guides alike (this was not my first time at the rodeo), we started at Bab Boujloud and made our way down Talaa Kabeera (the big slope), through the meat market...


... into Medrasa Bou Inania, which my guide book dubs the must-see building of Morocco. I don't know enough about architecture to make this assertion, but it sure it pretty. Also of interest, particularly to my Jewish readers: Directly across from the Medrasa is the former home of Maimonides, the superlative Torah scholar, who fled his birthplace during the Spanish inquisition and settled in Fes, where he studied at the university.


We made our way further down Talaa Kabira, stopping to see the honey and henna souks, until we reached al-Kairaouine, the oldest university in the world. At this point, Dad was getting hungry, so we stopped at and got some street food, then continued on our way to the Andalusian quarter, where we saw Medersa al-Sharija, one of my favorite sites in Fes.

Then we looped back up Talaa Kabira, stopped in to see the Medersa es Seffarine and making a stop at the famous tanneries on the way.


The next day, we took off to explore the Mellah, the old Jewish quarter of Fes. Following a walking tour in our guide book, we explored the synagogue and the Jewish cemetery, then made our way back to the hotel for a relaxing last night in Fes.


The following morning, we took the fast train to Rabat, where we spent 2 nights in my apartment and visited Rabat's two major tourist sites: Chellah and the Mousoleum. We also took advantage of Rabat's low-key shopping atmosphere and my dad was introduced to the joys of dirt cheap street food.

And then we were off to Marrakesh, a city I have a love/hate relationship with. The massive tourism industry is, to be quite honest, a little bit too much for this introvert. But my dad wanted to see it, and see it we did.

I would be lying if I said I remembered everything we did. I am no expert on Marrakesh, and, at a certain point, museums and tombs and souks start to run together in my head. But we had a great few days. (Except that my dad was finally hit with the inevitable stomach bug. It didn't seem to bring him down.) And I left the city with a more positive opinion of it, which is always heartening.


And then we made our way to Casablanca, on a train that was completely full in Marrakesh, it's starting location. And the three hours to Casa passed, the train became more and more full. When it came time to exit the train, we almost couldn't make our way past the pushy Moroccans who blocked the way and tried to enter the train before we had made our way off. I couldn't have been prouder of my dad as he used all his body weight to push through the sea of people with his luggage. After 10 days of being passive in the Moroccan crowds, he was finally bhal maghribii (like a Moroccan).

After checking into our hotel, we made our way to Hassan II mosque, the third largest mosque in the world behind the mosques in Mecca and Medina. Completed in 1993, it cost an estimated 800 million dollars. Think about that for a minute.
My favorite part of the mosque's tour was seeing the beautiful hammam (public bath) that was completed but yet to be opened, for administrative reasons. Whatever that means.

We returned to our hotel and embarked on an Art Deco walking tour of the city center, enjoyed some crepes, and people-watched a bit.

Our night ended fairly early, since Dad had to be up at 4:00 am to make it to the airport.

All in all, it was a really wonderful trip. Being a tour guide in a place that was recently foreign to me was incredibly gratifying; I proved to myself how much I'd grown in terms of language ability and understanding of Morocco.

I'm glad I was able to show my dad a good time; he's been calling it his "best vacation ever." And really, I'm not exaggerating when I say that this is a huge part of the Fulbright experience. Every co-worker, family member, and friend that he tells about his trip will have a better understanding of Morocco. And that, gentle readers, is the definition of cross-cultural exchange.

No complaints, okay? At least I wrote something.