Outside our hotel after breakfast were waiting four horse-drawn carraiges ready to take us on our morning tour of the major sites of the city. Though the carriage itself will seat 4, much to the chagrin our cranky toothless driver I decided that I wanted to sit up front next to him for a driver´s view of the crazy Moroccan traffic. It was crazy. I was equally impressed at the calm demeanor of the two horses despite the multiple lanes of traffic and the disinterest by any of the drivers to stay within the lines, and I was impressed with the skill of the driver to had to lead them across multiple lanes of traffic and in close quarters with delivery trucks, motor coaches, and bicycles alike. I was appalled by the behavior of the other drivers, and felt some matter of satisfaction when our carriage´s central axel ran up on top of and scratched the roof of a taxi cab that had cut right in front of our horse. Horses and their carriages do not stop on a dime!*
First stop was a long park and reflecting pool belonging to the Koutoubia mosque dating from around 1100 AD. To get there, we first had to run the gauntlet of a group of friendly old water sellers in their traditional costumes. First stip was a long park and reflecting pool belonging to the Koutoubia mosque dating from around 1100 AD. To get there, we first had to run the gauntlet of a group of friendly old water sellers in their traditional costumes and distinctive hats. We posed for a group photos with a couple of the gentlemen and the continued to examine the outside of the mosque with a couple busloads of French tourists.
*
After climbing back into the carriages our next stop was the Palais de la Bahia. I must have taken 50 photos from within the dozens upon dozens of elaborately ornamented palace (after I finished loving up on the dozen cats disinterestedly roaming around the entrance. If I didn´t mention it before, Moroccans hold cats very dear to them, often feeding and petting the dozens of strays that seem to inhabit almost every street corner. In contrast, dogs are considered unlucky and are generally only kept if they perform some sort or service to their owner, such as protection or alarm. In particular, dogs are kept out of sight on holy or otherwise celebratory days, though I can ´t remember the source of their superstitions.) As I mentioned, the Palace was amazing. It was built by a Vizier of a former Sultan and his son and at one point kept the Vizier, his 4 wives, his 100 concubines, and a lot of wine in the house. There wasn´t much governing going on during that time...
*
Last time was the Saadian tombs. The Saads were a dynesty that ruled before Moulay Ismail and his group took over Morocco, and almost every trace of them were destroyed by subsequent dynasties. These tomps weren´t discovered until the 1930s when a helicopter flying overhead saw something behind the otherwise nondescript street walls. In true Islamic style, the graves were lined up with their broad sides facing West. The people buried within would have been lain on their right shoulders so that they would face Mecca forever.
*
We finished the tour in the Central Square which was VERY different from what we had seen the night before. All the food stalls were gone, with no trace of them. They were replaced by fresh orange juice vendors, CD salesmen, snake charmers, fortune tellers, and the occasional street dentist (see photo from 10.
?.07). Aziz showed the group the entrance to the Medina, then showed my mother and I the entrance to a carpet dealer that he recommended before he disappeared for his afternoon siesta. Mom and I shopped and haggled up and down the medina, getting the lay of the land, and didn´t stop until well after 3:00 pm with some ideas for carpets, and a Moroccan lantern in hand. We went to a restaurant with a terrace overlooking the square, headed back into the medina for more gifts, and then walked home just as everything was starting to close up.
*
It was the night of the OAT Farewell dinner, and we all got as dressed up as we could muster and were taken to a fancy restaurant called ¨The Red House¨. After drinks in a special receiving room, we were lead to our tables to enjoy the live drummer and oud player and for our last special tagine. I was very interested in watching the drummer play. It was a very low-key, formal restaurant, and he did little more than tap the drum with his fingers to get a sound level appropriate for the atmosphere (Omid take note!). A dancer came out when were first sat down, and though she was leagues above what mom and I had seen in Fez, she was very uncompelling during her first set. During her second set an hour later, though, Aziz encouraged me to get up and dance with her and then she really turned it on. There is nothing like a little competition to get things going. I wasn´t allowed to videotape, since she had a bad experience with YouTube last year when some tourists came in. This was unfortunate for me, because she did a lot of pops with her chest and upper body that I was not used to seeing (and may have thrown my back out! Hee hee). We have some of the drummer on videotape (a present for Omid), but he also wasn´t the best of the trip. I think the percussionist that I most enjoyed was a guy who looked to be about 18 in the restaurant in Rabat. I can say proudly that I wore the dancer out. I don´t think she is used to doing much more than about 10 minutes of ¾ shimmy then disappearing for an hour. This time with me she had to do a full on drum solo AND her schtick with the guys in the group. When I dance publicly I definitely like to focus on the women more. They are the ones who enjoy dancing and will ultimately keep the dance going, but I guess there are plusses to keeping the guys happy too. This particular dancers had a trick where she laid one of the men on the floor and started to dance over him before blindfolding him. Then she got his wife to straddle him while she continued to dance. Presumably the man was confused as to who was dancing over him, but in any case I thought it was a bit strange.
*
It was still a really fun evening and I was very grateful for the opportunity to dance a little.
*
After climbing back into the carriages our next stop was the Palais de la Bahia. I must have taken 50 photos from within the dozens upon dozens of elaborately ornamented palace (after I finished loving up on the dozen cats disinterestedly roaming around the entrance. If I didn´t mention it before, Moroccans hold cats very dear to them, often feeding and petting the dozens of strays that seem to inhabit almost every street corner. In contrast, dogs are considered unlucky and are generally only kept if they perform some sort or service to their owner, such as protection or alarm. In particular, dogs are kept out of sight on holy or otherwise celebratory days, though I can ´t remember the source of their superstitions.) As I mentioned, the Palace was amazing. It was built by a Vizier of a former Sultan and his son and at one point kept the Vizier, his 4 wives, his 100 concubines, and a lot of wine in the house. There wasn´t much governing going on during that time...
*
Last time was the Saadian tombs. The Saads were a dynesty that ruled before Moulay Ismail and his group took over Morocco, and almost every trace of them were destroyed by subsequent dynasties. These tomps weren´t discovered until the 1930s when a helicopter flying overhead saw something behind the otherwise nondescript street walls. In true Islamic style, the graves were lined up with their broad sides facing West. The people buried within would have been lain on their right shoulders so that they would face Mecca forever.
*
We finished the tour in the Central Square which was VERY different from what we had seen the night before. All the food stalls were gone, with no trace of them. They were replaced by fresh orange juice vendors, CD salesmen, snake charmers, fortune tellers, and the occasional street dentist (see photo from 10.
?.07). Aziz showed the group the entrance to the Medina, then showed my mother and I the entrance to a carpet dealer that he recommended before he disappeared for his afternoon siesta. Mom and I shopped and haggled up and down the medina, getting the lay of the land, and didn´t stop until well after 3:00 pm with some ideas for carpets, and a Moroccan lantern in hand. We went to a restaurant with a terrace overlooking the square, headed back into the medina for more gifts, and then walked home just as everything was starting to close up.
*
It was the night of the OAT Farewell dinner, and we all got as dressed up as we could muster and were taken to a fancy restaurant called ¨The Red House¨. After drinks in a special receiving room, we were lead to our tables to enjoy the live drummer and oud player and for our last special tagine. I was very interested in watching the drummer play. It was a very low-key, formal restaurant, and he did little more than tap the drum with his fingers to get a sound level appropriate for the atmosphere (Omid take note!). A dancer came out when were first sat down, and though she was leagues above what mom and I had seen in Fez, she was very uncompelling during her first set. During her second set an hour later, though, Aziz encouraged me to get up and dance with her and then she really turned it on. There is nothing like a little competition to get things going. I wasn´t allowed to videotape, since she had a bad experience with YouTube last year when some tourists came in. This was unfortunate for me, because she did a lot of pops with her chest and upper body that I was not used to seeing (and may have thrown my back out! Hee hee). We have some of the drummer on videotape (a present for Omid), but he also wasn´t the best of the trip. I think the percussionist that I most enjoyed was a guy who looked to be about 18 in the restaurant in Rabat. I can say proudly that I wore the dancer out. I don´t think she is used to doing much more than about 10 minutes of ¾ shimmy then disappearing for an hour. This time with me she had to do a full on drum solo AND her schtick with the guys in the group. When I dance publicly I definitely like to focus on the women more. They are the ones who enjoy dancing and will ultimately keep the dance going, but I guess there are plusses to keeping the guys happy too. This particular dancers had a trick where she laid one of the men on the floor and started to dance over him before blindfolding him. Then she got his wife to straddle him while she continued to dance. Presumably the man was confused as to who was dancing over him, but in any case I thought it was a bit strange.
*
It was still a really fun evening and I was very grateful for the opportunity to dance a little.
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