There's Casablanca, Rabat, Marrakech (no, we did not visit this city but I know it's there for another time), Fes....wait, let me share a bit of our visit to Fes before we travel onward.
Fes is a sprawling metropolis which consists of something along the lines of 14,000 winding streets and alleyways....some that seemingly date back to the 10th century. Unless one wants to get hopelessly and endlessly lost in the labyrinth that is Fes, acquire a reputable tour guide. This way, as we did, we could navigate our way to and around the synogogue, the mosques, the vendors, the tanning vats and the donkeys which are THE mode of transport within the confines of old Fes.
Our time in Fes was enhanced by rain which makes those alleyways and streets a tad more challenging to navigate since some of those streets are not as wide as one's umbrella. So teetering and tilting our umbrellas, walking through the muddy lanes of Fes and hoping not to get mowed down by a run-away donkey transporting everything from leather skins to household cleaning supllies, we explore. Fes (at least old town Fes...although it is hard to say where old Fes ends and new Fes begins ..."new" Fes being from maybe the 18th century? :) is a world heritage UNESCO site. The tanning of leather hides is still done as it was in the days of "old" Fes. We are given sprigs of mint to place under our noses as we view the tanning vats because the aroma can be rather pungent. Fascinating to see but trust me, we take our pictures and move on. :)
Fes is fascinating. Fes is also very crowded. A whole lot of humanity trying to squeeze into the Fes experience. Between the vendors selling everything from chandaliers to toilet bowl brushes, the tourists trying to get something that feels like a bargain purchase (although I am acutely aware that I may have just paid a premium price for a glorified polyester scarf...but it is pretty...it is made of "cactus" silk? Really? I always thought silk had something to do with worms and such and very little to do with cactus but....it is a very pretty green scarf), the donkeys, the locals just trying to navigate their way around their hometown...I am finding it all fascinating but I think I am touristed-out. It has been a long and fascinating week but Morocco is starting to make me a little tired. After all, we live in a city of 8 million people so when we are on vacation it is fair to say, a break from the global crowds of humanity is sometimes an imperative.
We ask...okay, maybe implore and beg are better words...our guide Aziz for some place that is off the beaten tourist path. We are tired. Morocco has worn us out. He mentions a place that he knows of that tourists rarely, to ever, travel there because there is "not much to see". We tell him that sounds perfect.
The next day we drive ...past thousands of olive trees followed by thousands more of olive trees. We arrive in a town that appears slightly deserted but we must remember that looks can be deceiving. The town is very vertically built so there is a fair amount of walking along twisting and turning stone-paved lanes. The town sits at the edge of the Atlas Mountains and is called Bahlil. It is a before the dawn of time Berber village. We are the only foreigners in the town. It does not take long for the townspeople to know of our arrival. Closed doors are suddenly partly ajar with townspeople peeking out of their doorways to see us...smiles greet us...exchanges of hellos. Women with their children attached to their hips come out to see us...somehow we convey that Mom and I are mother and daughter (yes, I am my Mom's 50 year old baby :) to mothers with their babies. The women are fair-skinned and some are blue-eyed and all are very friendly. There is some kind of commom sisterhood message being conveyed between the women of this town and Mom and I. Case in point, I must have brushed up against one of the whitewashed walls of the town as I had a fair amount of white-dusty stuff on my black pants. Next thing I know, one of the Berber women are pointing and swiping the residue off my pants....and we are all laughing as she cleans me up and basically swats at my behind. Now, I have to tell you how this would never happen in Casablanca or Rabat from a stranger. But here in Bahlil....we are many things but we are not strangers to one another. Women meeting women and although we speak no common language, we understand one another perfectly and joyously.
The town is fascinating. Originally the town consisted only of cave dwellings. Modern day Bahlil (and I am using the word "modern" very liberally here) still consists of the cave dwellings but the townspeople have built on top of those existing cave dwellings and incorporated those caves into their present day homes and shops. So it is highly probable that if one was to live in Bahlil, one's bedroom is a cave.
It was a little difficult for me to wrap my mind around this. Cave bedroom....but then as luck would have it (because remember the whole town seems to know we are visiting now), a gentleman introduces himself to Aziz, our guide. He explains that he owns a cave "guest house"...and would like to show it to us. I'm thinking, "Sure, why not? This is going to be a throwback to the prehistoric days with a roaring open fire as a stove, a stream passing through the cave for running water. We enter the cave guest house through a door...with a lock and everything. It opens up into a series of caves that are home to a fully-equipped kitchen, a bathroom with modern plumbing...a narrow spiral staircase takes us to the next level of caves which has a large, well-appointed living room with TV...satellite TV, mind you...a little courtyard with a few potted plants...and mini-caves branching off from the main cave which house bedrooms all electrically-wired and well lit. This is cave-living at its finest. We entered the house at one level; exited 42 feet above from which we entered.
"Wow. That is amazing," Mom tells me. "I wish we had known about this place early. We could have booked it for a few nights". I find myself thinking the same thing. Mom could have cooked in a modern-day cave house. It would have been a first, that's for sure.
Making our way down from the cave guest house, back through the town, we stop to gaze upon a woman who is making the smallest of buttons made of woven thread that will be used for jhellabas...all knotted by hand...little pieces of art. What was refreshing about Bahlil was, no one tried to sell us anything, no one tried to guide us where we had no interest in going, there was space to just be, no pushing, no shoving, no dodging of donkeys :) It was as close to a leisurely experience as we were going to get in Morocco ...the townspeople graciously just let us explore and experience their town. We shared smiles, some basic attempts at conversation, an understanding that we hale from different cultures, yes, but we are cut from the same cloth of humanity.
We left Bahlil wishing we could stay longer...thinking who knows? Maybe one day we will get a few friends together and book the cave guest house for a few nights. After all, the caves provide sleeping accommodations for 8....any takers?
Be it ever so humble...even if it is a cave...there is no place like home.
Fes is a sprawling metropolis which consists of something along the lines of 14,000 winding streets and alleyways....some that seemingly date back to the 10th century. Unless one wants to get hopelessly and endlessly lost in the labyrinth that is Fes, acquire a reputable tour guide. This way, as we did, we could navigate our way to and around the synogogue, the mosques, the vendors, the tanning vats and the donkeys which are THE mode of transport within the confines of old Fes.
Our time in Fes was enhanced by rain which makes those alleyways and streets a tad more challenging to navigate since some of those streets are not as wide as one's umbrella. So teetering and tilting our umbrellas, walking through the muddy lanes of Fes and hoping not to get mowed down by a run-away donkey transporting everything from leather skins to household cleaning supllies, we explore. Fes (at least old town Fes...although it is hard to say where old Fes ends and new Fes begins ..."new" Fes being from maybe the 18th century? :) is a world heritage UNESCO site. The tanning of leather hides is still done as it was in the days of "old" Fes. We are given sprigs of mint to place under our noses as we view the tanning vats because the aroma can be rather pungent. Fascinating to see but trust me, we take our pictures and move on. :)
Fes is fascinating. Fes is also very crowded. A whole lot of humanity trying to squeeze into the Fes experience. Between the vendors selling everything from chandaliers to toilet bowl brushes, the tourists trying to get something that feels like a bargain purchase (although I am acutely aware that I may have just paid a premium price for a glorified polyester scarf...but it is pretty...it is made of "cactus" silk? Really? I always thought silk had something to do with worms and such and very little to do with cactus but....it is a very pretty green scarf), the donkeys, the locals just trying to navigate their way around their hometown...I am finding it all fascinating but I think I am touristed-out. It has been a long and fascinating week but Morocco is starting to make me a little tired. After all, we live in a city of 8 million people so when we are on vacation it is fair to say, a break from the global crowds of humanity is sometimes an imperative.
We ask...okay, maybe implore and beg are better words...our guide Aziz for some place that is off the beaten tourist path. We are tired. Morocco has worn us out. He mentions a place that he knows of that tourists rarely, to ever, travel there because there is "not much to see". We tell him that sounds perfect.
The next day we drive ...past thousands of olive trees followed by thousands more of olive trees. We arrive in a town that appears slightly deserted but we must remember that looks can be deceiving. The town is very vertically built so there is a fair amount of walking along twisting and turning stone-paved lanes. The town sits at the edge of the Atlas Mountains and is called Bahlil. It is a before the dawn of time Berber village. We are the only foreigners in the town. It does not take long for the townspeople to know of our arrival. Closed doors are suddenly partly ajar with townspeople peeking out of their doorways to see us...smiles greet us...exchanges of hellos. Women with their children attached to their hips come out to see us...somehow we convey that Mom and I are mother and daughter (yes, I am my Mom's 50 year old baby :) to mothers with their babies. The women are fair-skinned and some are blue-eyed and all are very friendly. There is some kind of commom sisterhood message being conveyed between the women of this town and Mom and I. Case in point, I must have brushed up against one of the whitewashed walls of the town as I had a fair amount of white-dusty stuff on my black pants. Next thing I know, one of the Berber women are pointing and swiping the residue off my pants....and we are all laughing as she cleans me up and basically swats at my behind. Now, I have to tell you how this would never happen in Casablanca or Rabat from a stranger. But here in Bahlil....we are many things but we are not strangers to one another. Women meeting women and although we speak no common language, we understand one another perfectly and joyously.
The town is fascinating. Originally the town consisted only of cave dwellings. Modern day Bahlil (and I am using the word "modern" very liberally here) still consists of the cave dwellings but the townspeople have built on top of those existing cave dwellings and incorporated those caves into their present day homes and shops. So it is highly probable that if one was to live in Bahlil, one's bedroom is a cave.
It was a little difficult for me to wrap my mind around this. Cave bedroom....but then as luck would have it (because remember the whole town seems to know we are visiting now), a gentleman introduces himself to Aziz, our guide. He explains that he owns a cave "guest house"...and would like to show it to us. I'm thinking, "Sure, why not? This is going to be a throwback to the prehistoric days with a roaring open fire as a stove, a stream passing through the cave for running water. We enter the cave guest house through a door...with a lock and everything. It opens up into a series of caves that are home to a fully-equipped kitchen, a bathroom with modern plumbing...a narrow spiral staircase takes us to the next level of caves which has a large, well-appointed living room with TV...satellite TV, mind you...a little courtyard with a few potted plants...and mini-caves branching off from the main cave which house bedrooms all electrically-wired and well lit. This is cave-living at its finest. We entered the house at one level; exited 42 feet above from which we entered.
"Wow. That is amazing," Mom tells me. "I wish we had known about this place early. We could have booked it for a few nights". I find myself thinking the same thing. Mom could have cooked in a modern-day cave house. It would have been a first, that's for sure.
Making our way down from the cave guest house, back through the town, we stop to gaze upon a woman who is making the smallest of buttons made of woven thread that will be used for jhellabas...all knotted by hand...little pieces of art. What was refreshing about Bahlil was, no one tried to sell us anything, no one tried to guide us where we had no interest in going, there was space to just be, no pushing, no shoving, no dodging of donkeys :) It was as close to a leisurely experience as we were going to get in Morocco ...the townspeople graciously just let us explore and experience their town. We shared smiles, some basic attempts at conversation, an understanding that we hale from different cultures, yes, but we are cut from the same cloth of humanity.
We left Bahlil wishing we could stay longer...thinking who knows? Maybe one day we will get a few friends together and book the cave guest house for a few nights. After all, the caves provide sleeping accommodations for 8....any takers?
Be it ever so humble...even if it is a cave...there is no place like home.
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