Hey, I am in Morocco!

On the bus ride from the airport to the main center of Rabat where the Golden Tulip resides by the sea, the sights I saw were certainly unique. I expected Morcocco to look like Turkey. I expected Morocco to look like Spain. I expected Italy, or California, or some semblance of another place I have visited. But it's not like other places. It is Morocco-- it is Africa!

The air was slightly humid and smelled of spring as we exited the airport. The grass is green like it is in May in Michigan and purple flowers adorned bushes along the roadside. This could have all been like home, along with some deciduous looking trees, but the dirt is reddish like North Carolina. I did not see cyprus trees as one does in Italy, but there are both short and tall palms. The air was both warm and cool. It seems a land of contrasts, a theme I observed in many other ways.

Just when I was surprised that I didn't see more French chain stores along the road, even though I saw a Pizza Hut, I noticed a billboard sign written only in French for the French bank Societe Generale.  And just when I thought, wow, I am surprised it is only in French without Arabic, I turned to the other side of the road where the exact same billboard sat with Arabic writing. Later when we ventured out to stroll by the sea and streets of the Medina, I noticed that most people we encountered first chose to speak Arabic, but also flowed to French as second nature, and most seem to know English as well. The kind waiter who served me my first mint tea was happy to speak franglais with me, and also to help us learn how to say the basics in Arabic.  

Contrasts or perhaps complements to this blended culture abound. Some women are covered head to toe in traditional Moroccan Muslim dress, while other women, including those on advertisements, are dressed in western style clothes with no head covering. Along the boardwalk there was someone renting motorized Jeeps and other little cars for children, adults enjoyed the view in outdoor cafes, young teens hung out acting cool, younger kids swam in the river that most adults would find much too cold to bother, fishermen worked their lines and boaters rowed the stream, and within the
 Medina craftsmen carved furniture and tanned leather from age-old traditions.
















The most surprising thing I saw today was a sign written in both Arabic and French:  Gout du Detroit!  Taste of Detroit!  It was for shwarma. What an unexpected contrast!

Besides reflecting contrasts, my first glimpse of Morocco is one of a communal society. As it is a warm spring day, every empty space along the roadway had spots under the shade of a tree where families had hung blankets in makeshift tents for an afternoon picnic. The cafes were filled with men watching football on outdoor TVs-- similar to home, but they seemed to be drinking tea or coffee instead of beer. Men and men, as well as women and women walked arm-in-arm along the seaside-- yes, the same gender.

And of course the Medina and other main shopping streets swelled with families.  Both dishes of our first Moroccan meal were served as one large plate for us to all share.

With all of these images, I also heard-- twice-- the call to prayer.  I was served mint tea-- twice. And at least twice, I crossed the chaotic intersection in fear of my life. Yes, I am in Morocco and I can't wait to see what the 'morrow brings.