Out of the Blue -- Marrakech

My last few days in Morocco were bittersweet, which seems to be the predominant emotion whenever I leave a city in which I’ve developed good friendships and start to feel like I fit. Being able to fit everywhere I go has become incredibly important to me. I have developed the ability to adapt and thrive in all sorts of environments, and am fiercely proud of this. It might seem like a selfish, insensitive goal, but by the time I leave a placement in which I've spent a significant period of time, I try to have become so involved and useful that the people with whom I've stayed don't know what they'll do without me. 

But leaving is hard. i have the confidence that I'll always find a way to fit, but saying goodbye to a life I've grown to love never gets any easier. The last few days can be contemplative and solemn, as you spend most of your time thinking, "This is the last."

It’s hard to think, “this is the last” so many times a day.

My lasts:

Mike took me out to a phenomenal last dinner at Al Fassia. We split a lamb shoulder that had been slow cooked in onions and almonds -- l'epaule d'agneau doree. An indescribably good dinner.

My last dinner for Mike was a lemon chicken tagine. Although it certainly didn’t compare to Al Fassia’s lamb, it was a damn fine tagine, if I do say so myself. I am going to try to convince my family to purchase this TAGINE when I arrive back in Grand Junction. It might be a bit expensive, but it guarantees a lifetime of good eating. As long as you can find the Ras el Hanout to go with it, that is. Ras el Hanout is a very popular blend of spices in Morocco, and one generally finds in just about every tagine recipe. The name itself translates into "head of shop," and simply means that what you're purchasing is the absolute best that the seller has available. While every Moroccan vendor has his own specific way of blending his "head of shop" spice mix, typical ingredients include (but are certainly not limited to): cardamon, clove, cinnamon, ground chili pepper, coriander, nutmeg, peppercorn, and turmeric. 

Reasons why Moroccan food is amazing. Goodness. And I assume that before the 1990s it tasted even better, as Ras el Hanout used to contain cantharides -- an ingredient which possesses certain aphrodisiac properties. However, as cantharides are beetles (and we all know that eating ground-up bugs is gross (*cough, STARBUCKS)), and they are mildly poisonous as well as sexually stimulating, they have been duly banned from the Moroccan spice market. Guess we'll just have to stick to eating avocados, dulce de leche, arugula, and oysters if we find ourselves in need of a little extra ingestible help in that particular area.

Stolen from Wikipedia:

Various preparations of desiccated Spanish flies have been used as some of the world's oldest alleged aphrodisiacs, with a reputation dating back to the early western mediterranean classical civilizations:

• In Roman times, Livia, the scheming wife of Augustus Caesar, slipped it into food hoping to inspire her guests to some indiscretion with which she could later blackmail them.
• Henry IV (1050–1106) is known to have consumed Spanish fly at the risk of his health.
• In 1572, Ambroise Pare wrote an account of a man suffering from "the most frightful satyriasis" after taking a potion composed of nettles and cantharides.^[9]
• In the 1670s, Spanish fly was mixed with dried moles and bat's blood for a love charm made by the magician La Voisin.
• It was slipped into the food of Louis XIVto secure the king's lust for Madame de Montespan.
• In the 18th century, cantharides became fashionable, known as pastilles Richelieu in France.
• The Marquis de Sade is claimed to have given aniseed flavored pastilles that were laced with Spanish fly to prostitutes at an orgy in 1772. He was sentenced to death for poisoning and sodomy, but later reprieved on appeal.

Last long ride on Mike's Ducati: we stopped at the Marjorelle Gardens for coffee, and then proceeded to take a spin through the extremely plush golf course. 

Last afternoon with Youssef: we had a lovely discussion over haagen-dazs (which is criminally expensive in Morocco) and visited his friend in the souk for a glass of Royal Tea -- which I still haven't figured out how to make properly. Boiling tea leaves and spices seems simple enough, but this fellow must add a special ingredient to the mixture that doesn't come in the standard customer's tea. He told Youssef that he could haul me off to the desert and trade me in for 100 camels (quite the compliment), but he had the gall to withhold his tea-making secrets. His tea is the best I've ever tasted. When I boil my own tea, it just tastes like dirt. I have tried four times with the same result. I am getting discouraged.  

Last ice cream with Youssef -- we both liked that the absurd length of the spoon made it seem as if you were trying to steal something. 

First (and last) ride in a private plane to Ouarzazate. We flew right over the Atlas Mountains to reach this southern-central Moroccan city, and it was by far the most gorgeous and unforgettable flying experience I've ever had. How was I lucky enough to be able to fly in a private plane from Marrakech to Ouarzazate? Mike's cousin is in the process of getting his pilot's license, and like all licenses, one must achieve a certain amount of hours before said license is issued. So Mike's cousin decided to fly around Morocco with his trainer in order to rack up his hours -- and he invited Mike and I to fill the two empty back seats. To which we not so reluctantly agreed. 

This is the most popular plane for beginning pilots, as it comes complete with parachute. 

view of the Atlas Mountains

Where we stopped for lunch in Ouarzazate. This city is known as the gateway to the desert, and is blisteringly hot. Morocco may very well be an impoverished desert country, but I have seen far more luxurious swimming pools in this boiling land than I've seen anywhere else in my life. 

Ouarzazate is the undisputed film capital of Morocco. The Living Daylights, The Last Temptation of Christ, The Gladiator, The Mummy, Lawrence of Arabia, Legionnaire, and Salmon Fishing in Yemen were filmed in this desert city. Because of this, one sees props from the various films strewn about the streets and hotels. This catapult-like structure was from Gilgamesh. 

This statue was used in the film "Samson and Delilah"

Last mechoui lunch. As I do not have access to a twelve foot hole in the ground, I very much doubt I'll be eating much mechoui in the states. I shall miss it. 

Last time seeing a family of four astride a single scooter. While I didn't get a good picture of this impressive balancing act, a quick sketch looks something like this: 

I have decided that people in Morocco consume obscene amounts of sugar for a very good reason. They need to gain enough weight to achieve sufficient padding to ride these dreadfully uncomfortable bicycles without too much torment to the derriere. Youssef took me riding on the back of his bike once. 20 minutes on his bicycle inflicted more pain on my unprotected backside than 2 hours on Mike's Ducati. I have no idea how the Moroccans manage. 

Last time seeing a mule pulling a cart of tomatoes down the main street. 

Last time buying cutlet and kefta from a butcher and taking it to the restaurant next-door to be spiced up and grilled real nicely. 

Last time being molested by a stray cat who loves cutlet even more than I do. 

Last mint tea. Sans sucre. 

Last evening activity with Mike: The Fantasia! A very touristic sort of theme park on the outskirts of Marrakech. I saw midgets, camels, belly-dancers, a magic carpets, and unbelievable equestrian acrobatics. I also witnessed a line of Moroccan horsemen charging the audience, skidding to a speedy halt a few feet in front of the stands, and firing their guns into the air. It was all very impressive. 

A few more notes about Morocco before I close this chapter of my travels: 

People think that eating goat makes one ill. To prove that an animal is a sheep and not a goat, the butcher will show you the testicles and/or the long skeletal tail. These things make it a sheep. I am not sure why goats don't possess balls and sheep do, but Moroccans seem to be assured that the presence of the fleshy sacks indicates "sheep". As I adore goat and don't give a lick of credence to the "eating goat makes you sick" belief, I didn't really care one way or another.  

In the US, if we want to prove that something is quality, we try to run it over with our enormous cars or drop it off of tall things. Good example being nalgene: 

In Morocco, they carry around handy dandy lighters and attempt to light their merchandise on fire. "you see? It doesn't burn. Not plastic." "Golly gee, you're right! That's gotta be some quality stuff you've got there." 

As mentioned earlier, ice cream is heinously expensive. As are feminine hygiene products and makeup. My hypothesis is that by charging an arm and a leg for tampons and mascara, they hope to encourage their women to stay pregnant and as invisible as possible. 

Women can lead really hard lives in Morocco. For all of the wonderful things this country has going for it -- the food, the weather, the history, the scenery -- I would never consider making a life for myself within its borders because of the way women are treated. It's a rather primitive, macho-man's world, and that is something to which I'd never want to adapt. Men don't know how to drink properly, women are frequently abused, and nothing is really done about it. I learned a good deal from my time in Morocco, had several once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and met some truly magnificent people, but I'm excited to get back to Europe on the 7th of May. It's definitely time to move on.