I Went to Africa

Yeah. I went to Africa. It still doesn't quite feel like I really did it. Maybe I've been studying too much Dalí, but the whole experience feels like some fantastical dream that I can't quite pinpoint. Specific events and activities fit very well in my memories. However, there's all of this road travel, sunsets, buildings, and mountains that just swirl around in my head without finding their own resting compartment in my head. Okay, I really do need to take a break from Dalí...after I finish that paper.

So much blue!

One of the coolest things about traveling to Africa from southern Spain is taking the boat across the Straits of Gibraltar. It was sunny, fairly warm, and Thanksgiving Day. This day did not feel like Thanksgiving even a little bit, other than the fact that I was very very thankful to be warm. (Spain gets cold) It was an incredibly long day of traveling, but it was completely worth it to take the boat over. You get to see how incredibly close these two continents are to each other, yet how they encompass such different cultures, ideals, and lifestyles. Also, who doesn't love pretending to be Kate Winslet on the deck of a boat?

So we arrived in Tangiers all safe, cuddly, warm, and white. Very white. I have never felt like a minority more than I did that day in Tangiers. There were 14 of us, with cameras, Western clothing, and me with my blonder-than-Marilyn hair. I felt like I had three heads. And although we stuck out like sore thumbs, and certain people were portraying the "American Stereotype" like they were going for the Oscar, I felt so welcomed into that country. From my limited experience, the Moroccan people were genuinely some of the kindest, most hospitable (besides my Carmen, of course), and curious people I've ever met in my life. The waiters and waitresses were incredibly nice wherever we went. (And let me tell you, that is not usually the case in certain parts of Europe.) The family that I stayed with, along with Olivia & Lynzee, were super sweet and accommodating. All the way down to the little kids in the street. Which brings me to the Penis Story. (Don't worry, this is perfectly appropriate, I just have a sense of humor like a 12 year old boy.)

Penis/Pinez

This story starts way back in Barcelona, when my purse got snagged on a doorknob and ripped a little bit. That happened about a month and a half ago. During this time, my purse had slowly been getting worse and worse, to the point where it's really just barely hanging on anymore. So, to avoid my bag ripping any further while I was trekking across Morocco, I was hoping to find a safety pin to fix it. (are the pieces coming together now?) That picture up there, THAT, my friends is a pinez. Pronounced, in Arabic, like penis. Because the world is weird, and people make up languages with funny sounds. So I went around the stores asking the workers if they had a pinez, with my Spanish, English, veeeeery limited French, and about 4 or 5 Arabic words. One of those words being penis. While the first store owner laughed at me, probably because he spoke a little English, and the second store owner just looked really confused, I had the best experience in the third store.

It was this little clothing alteration place with just a woman and her 8 year old daughter working in there. I showed them my purse that was falling apart, and desperately tried to communicate using hand signals and four languages between us. The desk where she was working had a huge jar of very small safety pins. What I expected was that she would give me one or two, and I would give her a few dirham (local currency) in exchange. Instead, the woman asked to see my purse, and set to work with the safety pins. She tried several different times to put the safety pins in to hold it together, but the weight of my purse made it so that they always popped open. From what I gathered, she wanted to sew it up for me, but I had an activity to get to. I left in a hurry and thanked her as much as I possibly could. As I'm leaving the store, her daughter runs after me and asks me to wait. She pantomimes that I can sew it up if I have some thread, and enthusiastically tries to show me how. As much as I tried, I couldn't figure out how to tell her that I didn't bring my sewing kit, so I thanked this tiny, smart girl as much as I could, and left to join my group. Out of my ridiculous journey to find a pinez, I found these incredible Moroccan women that were willing to do whatever they could to help me. It warmed my heart, and I'll never forget the look on that little girl's face as she helped her mother try to fix my bag. 

So much more happened in Morocco. I went to the hamam (the traditional bath house), rode a camel, hiked around the mountains, and ate amazing food. And while I could tell you about all the "neat" things I did, I'd rather tell you about the people. This Arab, Muslim, North African nation of people who live, eat, work, go to church (or not), have families, play, laugh, and enjoy their time just like people in the States. I was able to sit in a room with 4 Muslim men, all with differing views on the religious text, and all with different views on how religion affects their lives. Nothing they said ever offended me, rather it was the words of some of the other students in our group that rubbed me the wrong way. I made friends with a few people while I was there, that I still plan on keeping via Facebook. I learned a little bit of what life is like in rural Morocco, what it's like to be a woman in this society, what it looks like to live a day there. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything. And I don't regret that I didn't see the touristy things, because that's not what traveling is always about. It has so much more weight when you meet the people where they are, and try to see the world through their eyes.

Sorry to get so serious. Well, no, actually, I'm not. Because this trip was really special to me. And someday, I'm going to go back. I'll visit Rabat and see my host family, and watch a sunset from the rooftop terrace in Chefchaouen and think about the amazing memories behind me, and the amazing journey ahead of me.