In Honor of Friday Couscous, Notes on a Moroccan Classic
Thursday, October 29, 2009 | Ar-Ribat, Morocco
In Morocco, of course, couscous is the national meal. Without fail, the kingdom's entire population eats it every Friday at lunch, by hand or by spoon, at home or in a restaurant. It is a nationwide rite unparalleled in America. (Catholics' fish-only-Fridays comes to mind, but Friday couscous in Morocco is on a whole other scale, approaching universality. Finding a restaurant or cafe that serves anything else on Friday afternoons is a rarity.)
Given Moroccans' enthusiasm for the grain-based pasta—which they both grow and consume in
Categories:
Cooking,
Culture and Its Contours,
Food and Drink,
Morocco
Jemaa el Fna: Bring Your Appetite
Sunday, October 25, 2009 | Marrakesh, Morocco
Few places in Morocco have as much energy as Marrakech's Jemaa el Fna at night. |
Categories:
Food and Drink,
Marrakech,
Morocco
Toubkal: A Climb to the Roof of North Africa
Saturday, October 24, 2009 | Jbel Toubkal, Morocco
Victory! A triumphal shot from the top of Jebel Toubkal, with Chris at left, Susannah in the middle, and me at right. |
By a stroke of luck, I managed to get last Friday off work, just as my friends Chris and Susannah were planning an ascent of the peak. I packed and provisioned, and made the 3:15am train to Marrakech with them. After a few hours of lousy midnight train sleeping, we took a winding grand taxi ride from Marrakech to the town of Imlil, at the foot of the Atlas.
It was late in the morning when, stocked up on water, Chris, Susannah, and I shouldered our packs and began to shuffle up the trail, tired but energized by the challenge ahead. Susannah had reached the summit a few months earlier, but Chris hadn't quite made it on his own trip. Many hikers used mules to carry their gear; we were going it alone.
The Final Countdown: Asilah
Wednesday, October 14, 2009 | Asilah, Morocco
Asilah proved to be one of my favorite Moroccan towns, not least because of its beautiful murals, like this calligraphy-based one. |
Asilah itself remains, nominally at least, a fishing port. But its charmingly colorful medina attracts so many European tourists—including many who have settled permanently—that tourism has clearly eclipsed the town's traditional trade.
In Asilah's bright murals, immaculate streets, reserved shopkeepers, and relaxed atmosphere, Jacqueline and I felt we had escaped Morocco. It was unlike any other town we have visited here so far. Where tourism seems only to increase resentment, racism, and crime in most Moroccan cities,
Categories:
Historical Sites,
Morocco
The Final Countdown: Moulay Bousselham
Thursday, October 8, 2009 | Moulay-Bousselham, Morocco
The beach at Moulay Bousselham, where life is good. |
Several weeks ago, we headed up the coast to Moulay Bousselham (مولاي بو سلهام), a quiet fishing village poised between the Atlantic and a large inland lagoon. The nearby Merdja Zerga ("Blue Lagoon") is a major pit stop for migratory birds traveling between Europe and sub-Saharan Africa.
We checked into the Villa Nora, a friendly bed and breakfast perched high above the beach, and made ourselves comfortable.
While I love animals, I'm no bird watcher. In fact, I almost always prefer to watch bird watchers than to actually watch birds. With no such entertainment in sight, I opted to skip the lagoon this trip. Jacqueline was equally uninterested, probably more out of a desire to avoid haggling for a boat
Looking Back on a Year in Morocco
Monday, October 5, 2009 | Ar-Ribat, Morocco
In 12 months, we have managed to cover a lot of ground, but Morocco is larger than you might think, with more to see and do. |
On first reflection I feel like the year has rushed past. But then I recall all that we've done and seen and survived. In just our first few months, we found a first home in Fes, learned to navigate the old city, road tripped through northern Morocco, visited Spain without leaving Africa, mastered shopping à la marocaine, expanded our culinary horizons, helped butcher a sheep on 'Eid al Adha, dragged my family around the country, skied the Atlas mountains, and suffered Fes's endless street harassment.
Those nearly six months in Fes, while probably the defining epoch of our Moroccan experience, were trying, to say the least. The palace in which we ultimately settled had no roof over its courtyard,