Morocco: The People Up Close and Personal

A Moroccan, Khalid El Boumlili, won the Rock and Roll Marathon here in San Diego last weekend. Not only won it, but left the others behind in his dust and finished a minute and a half ahead of the nearest Kenyan. Having just come back from two weeks traveling around Morocco, why am I not surprised?

Four of us traveled around Morocco looking for the World Heritage sites before heading up to Rabat to take part in a symposium on African development -- Hisako, my longtime friend and traveling buddy, Tetsu, her newly retired husband who walked across England with us last year, and my daughter, Jennifer, finally breaking free from Missoula to travel the world.

More than the World Heritage sites, we found the treasure of Morocco in its people. These guys have been around from early Earth times, using stone tools at least 250,000 years before the Europeans. The Phoenicians, Romans, Arabs, Portuguese, Spanish, Germans, and French have come and gone, contributing genes along the way but the backbone of the country are the Berbers, an ancient mix of Oriental, Saharan and European origins, tribes of nomads, settled farmers, and hunter/horsemen.

Our Lonely Planet guidebook described the Berbers as "live free or die trying". Their history has clearly shaped their personality and outlook and we tried to take on some of their attributes, or at least to be adaptable to them.

Not wanting to lose our lives in Morocco, we hired a driver for the ten days of traveling around the country. Hashem, a young, handsome half Berber man, was given to us as English speaking. He spoke Berber, Arab, and French but his English -- well, not a lot. Jennifer's high school French and a dictionary became our main way of communicating. We learned about Moroccan navigation - what we came to call Moroccan GPS. Each day we gave a list of where we wanted to go, he headed in the general direction and periodically stopped to ask people on the road for further directions. We tried giving him a map and addresses but, after watching how complete strangers responded pleasantly, even with interest, we came to understand these interactions were a way of socialization and connecting with each other.


Driving toward Marrakesh, Hashem indicated we needed to stop to get some "gazwhal". Gazwhal? What was Gazwhal? When finally we pulled into a filling station with a sign "GASOIL", one of us figured it out. Gazwhal -- the French pronuciation for GasOil, as in "we" for "oui". We're still laughing about that one.

One of my photos goals for the travels was to include people somewhere in the picture, not an easy task when many of them didn't want their picture taken.

I got a lot of pictures of backs...


an unexpected candid in Fes...


a conversation taken from a distance in Meknes...


a street nap in El Jedida.


In Marrakesh, Jennifer took a picture of a woman selling baskets from a bit of a distance. The woman jumped up and approached Jennifer demanding dirham (Moroccan money). I came into the picture not fully understanding what was going on between the two, dropped 5 dirham in the woman's hand to end the dispute when Jennifer explained she had been trying to show the woman she had erased the picture from the camera. With this, I reached into the woman's hand to take back the money as she clamped her hand closed. A "tussle" ensued -- Jennifer says a fight -- until I felt the woman's teeth start to close down on my arm. The woman triumphantly returned to her baskets and gave me one of these -


I learned later from a Berber this is a gesture that means "God willing" but from this lady it had, well, one of those "up yours" feel.

We saw amazing skills, like this lady that could belly dance with a platter of candles balanced on her head...


and waiters who could pour tea from several feet above the tea glass.


At the edge of the ancient Roman ruins of Volubilis I watched this man intent on writing, oblivious to those on the way to the ruins.


Such a spirit in the man with his cat in Rabat...


and these camel herders on the way to Er Rachidia.


Jennifer was a lightening rod for the younger ones at Jemaa el-Fna...


In El Jedida, I met Simo, a Tuareg selling carpets from his village in another part of Morocco. The “blue people” of the Tuaregs wear clothes colored by pounding indigo stones into power and the powder into the fabric and, as Simo explained, rub indigo onto their faces for protection from the sun in the Sahara.


About the legendary blue men of the desert, our guide book said "tough doesn't do them justice...they lived on camels' meat and milk instead of bread and wore wool in the scorching desert".


Simo attempted to teach me the art of bargaining. "Just give me your best price and I'll pay it". "But", he explained, "if you won't bargain with me, it means you don't love me".


I met another Tuareg at Ait Benhadeau, who owned 65 camels and taught me the gesture for "Inshallah", or "God be willing".


I didn't buy Simo's carpet, but I did go looking for indigo blue in Fes,


preparing for a return to Morocco, inshallah.

Morocco - Wow!

Just back from Morocco, and what an incredible place! Exotic, stunning, mysterious ... what can I say about a place that has been around for thousands of years and outlasted all efforts at colonialization?

When I recover from jet lag and get my photos in order I will make an effort to share some highlights but, trust me, words and photos cannot do justice to this country. You must see it for yourself.

Afield in San Diego: Vallecito Stagecoach Station, Mud in Our Eyes

In a few days I'm heading for Morocco for some deserts and history, so I thought I'd write about some prequel history and desert action right here in San Diego from a couple weekends ago.


My 14 yr old granddaughter, Hayley - Jennifer's sister - and I headed out to the old Vallecito stagecoach station to throw some mud - that is, repair the adobe structure by smearing on a layer of mud. Great fun if you're six years old and you're not in the sun-beating-down desert.

To set the "stage" so to speak, we drove the 80 miles east from the coast so we could approach the work site from the Great Southern Overland Stagecoach route, the same route the stagecoach travelers would have traveled from Missouri. The only other option for them was the northern route over what became known as Donner Pass. Either way had to have been a grueling trip. We drove through the Coyote and Jacumba Mountains, past the Well of Eight Echos and Corrizo Badlands and some of the most spectacular scenery in San Diego - that most tourists don't see. We were in a bit of a hurry to start working before the temperatures rose, but I had to take at least one cactus shot, and made a note to come back this way more leisurely.


The station was run by the Lassater family who settled here in the 1850's; they provided respite and meals to the passengers of the Butterfield Overland Stage coaches, which passed through twice weekly. By the late 1880s, the train route had come through from the east and stagecoaches were lost to history. Even before the stagecoach, though, the route was used by Mexicans running cattle to the north.

Our project was organized by Save Our Heritage Organization (SOHO). We got a short lesson on how to apply adobe mud and then we were on our own.


We began by making our mud. Let me say here, this endeavor is not as easy as it sounds. The mud has to be the right consistency...


the wall needs to be prepped by removing loose dirt and wetting the wall just the right amount for the new mud to adhere.


Then on with the mud, any way you can get it to go. We tried throwing, smearing, patting, talking to it...


and somehow we got a pretty nice wall done.


One 14 year old, pretty proud of herself after a hard day's work.


I took the requisite door photo,


and we were both happy campers heading home, with thoughts of how isolated life was for this family and how welcome must have been those stagecoach travelers.

Click here for a photo of the stagecoach station in 1904, likely much the same as it looked in the 1850's.

Afield in San Diego: Flower Fields of Carlsbad

First, before I go on with another walkabout account, I must give credit for the "Afoot" and "Afield" phrases to Jerry Schad whose book "Afoot and Afield in San Diego" is the hiker's Bible for walking San Diego's trails.


This weekend, Jennifer and I headed up the coast to The Flower Fields in Carlsbad on our way to the Strawberry Festival. Can you imagine a town whose specialties are flowers and strawberries, and on the ocean to boot!

The spring flower fields are a ritual rite of spring for San Diegans, whether to the desert at Borrego Springs or the ranunculae of Carlsbad. This was Jennifer's first trip, camera in hand, of course. It's great to have a buddy that can talk depth of field, composition, and photography as social commentary, even when she's admonishing her Ouma to stop crossing the yellow tape into the field.

Jennifer brought the same focus, discipline, and unique perspective to the fields that we saw in the Meditation Gardens.


A few of Jennifer's photos:






Jennifer calls this her crime scene photo...


A bed so soft...


Her social commentary...


Her Obama shot...One will rise above the rest.


I took a couple I liked...




...but I was more intrigued by the "flowers" walking around, the Red Hat Ladies.




About now, Jennifer began to talk about my being obsessional. "Stop stalking them, Ouma!" She began muttering about "the attack of the Red Hats" - isn't that Killer Tomatoes?




There must have been a couple hundred of them.


They came with canes and walkers.


This pair looked generational.


About the time Jennifer was groaning and rolling her eyes - "do we have to walk through those old ladies again?"- I figured it was time to head up to the Strawberry Festival.

Here for more Flower Field photos.

On Foot in San Diego: Union Station

This weekend I decided to check out the old Santa Fe Depot, now called the Union Station, at the recommendation of JoAnne, our medical records librarian. No surprise, I did have my buddy, Jennifer, along for this excursion. I have been trying to imprint the railroad history of San Diego on my brain as the railroad played an important role in the settling and development of the city in the late part of the 1800's and early 1900's. I will let the reader check out those details here.

The morning did not get off to a good start when we found I had forgotten to replace the batteries in Jennifer's camera after recharging. OK, I offered to let her share my SLR if she saw a good shot. Nor did it help that paramedics were working on a young man slumped over at the entrance.

"Did he have a heart attack?", Jennifer wanted to know. No, I told her, more likely drugs.

The interior of the station was beautiful in its grace and simplicity, but it's no Grand Central Station and Jennifer was clearly disappointed. One has to be along in years to appreciate the Mission Revival style, arches, and redwood beams in the ceiling.


On the way around front I found a door I liked. I must say I like these curved arches. Jennifer was thinking out loud, "Not another door".


The original depot, built in 1887 to accommodate the real estate bubble speculating that San Diego would be the terminus of the Atchison,Topeka, and Santa Fe, was Victorian style, red with green trim, complete with a clock tower. With the completion of the Panama Canal and hopes that San Diego would become a thriving port for ships, the Victorian depot was torn down and replaced in 1915 with the Mission Revival style depot in keeping with the architecture of the Panama-California Exposition at Balboa Park.


"Next week could we go to the Wild Animal Park to take pictures?" Jennifer asked. That question was not a surprise.

That Joan!

So Joan's been teaching folks at the Lowcountry Senior Center how to blog, and included our blog in the list of lowcountry blogs for them to check out. I truly feel honored - thanks, Joan!!!

Also, she's been invited to go to Kenya in May to check out the new water system that's being installed as a result of our hospital system's fundraising (and walking). Congrats, Joan!

That Joan is truly the busiest woman I have ever met - and I mean that in a good way. 8D

(Note to Kathie - in the bottom pic of the post in the last link, the middle "person" in orange shirt is LaLa; the woman in the red jacket is Jessie. Can you see the tip of Kelly's head a ways to the right of her - with sunglasses on? I was somewhere ahead with James Patrick.)