Thank The Goddess For A Huge Ass, Wide Hips, & Fat Thighs!

Never in a million years would I ever had thought those words would cross my mind with such gratitude and happiness! (And before I get emails lecturing me on the phrasing of the title as commentary on my body, please know that it is simply a comedic thought that crossed my mind; I don't actually believe nor think that way. At least not completely...)

Let me tell you - riding a chameau (camel) is not something I would recommend to anyone that easily gets seasick, have rigid hip motion or bad back, or is afraid of heights! But it is so much fun! And I had such a cool camel to boot. A total sweetie. The only part of being on a camel that freaked me out (at first) is trying to stay on when the camel gets up. You see, the camel is completely kneeling in order for the rider to mount the camel. Then the camel stands up. To do that, the camel first straightens their back legs (and they are long legs) then their forelegs. Once you anticipate this motion, however, it becomes pas de probleme!

My trek started late in the afternoon last Thursday. The first night my guide and I ended up in an ousis (pronounced wa-zis) not too far away. The dunes were incredible. It was amazing how they changed color with the sun setting and with the amount of clouds in the sky. I also couldn't get over how quiet it was - almost deafeningly so. However, it was definitely a welcomed change after the clamoring noises of the people and vehicles of the large cities. And to finally breathe fresh air after the copious amount of motor exhaust and smokers!

The second day we trekked out to the hamada (the "black" desert where volcanic rocks are) to stay with a Berber family. It was really interesting to come upon them with two donkeys in their "yard". It was even more amazing to see 4 kids (and I mean young goats) leap playfully around the donkeys and up onto the Berber tent I was to stay in for the night. The child was the cutest thing ever. The only thing disconcerting about my stay here was the how flat the entire area was. The reason for this is because of how vulnerable I felt having to "use the facilities" in such an environment having come from a culture of being provided with the utmost privacy during such times! Even in the dunes or backpacking one can always find some feature to obtain privacy! But not in a hamada.

The third day we trekked to a small village called Khemliya. The Berbers make a big deal about this because it is a village comprised predominantly of "Black people", as they point out. Evidently even here, there is a significant segregation between Blacks and non-Blacks. Even though there is distinct racial segregation regarding this village because of skin color, there is also proud acknowledgment of the music the people of this village make. It's called Gnawan music. It includes a guinbri, a guitar-like instrument; tabl, double-headed drums; and qaraqeb, a pair of large dumbbell-shaped castanets. There is also dancing that accompanies the music.

The last morning brought me back to the village. Because of how peaceful it was, I couldn't bring myself to leave. The manager of the auberge that I stayed at introduced me to a local woman and her family. Because of my status of being "married", he had her paint my hands and feet with henna for luck and protection. Because the discoloration from the henna is in the traditional style instead of the curlique designs of flowers and swirls most tourists have done I get comments about my henna frequently wherever I go.

Still not willing to leave, I ended up staying in Merzouga until last night. During my stay I got to know quite a few of the locals, again courtesy of manager of the auberge. I was introduced to another Berber family whose women (Khadija, Mahma, and Zora) immediately took me in as one of their own. Right away I felt really comfortable with them as they laugh, talk, and carry on heartily and with full gusto of life - quite unlike the more staid and very reserved Arabic women I have met. The first night, they were determined to start my renovation into a Berber woman by dressing me up Berber-style. Quite hilarious. Because my name was too difficult for them to pronounce, it was modified to "Ashia Berber" (Asian Berber). From that night forth that's what I was called and introduced to other families as. It was so nice being so welcomed and accepted. I think, though, it kind of confused them as to why I would be interested in hanging out with them for there were a couple of times comments being made to that effect. Nevertheless, I think that it pleased them immensely that there was a foreigner interested in learning about their culture, language and way of life instead of just whipping through town in a 4x4, snapping pictures. (At least I hope so...)

I had such a wonderful time there is the desert. I really didn't want to leave at all. Such beauty, tranquility and peace... I shall miss it terribly.

But onward to catch whatever else I can of Morocco.

To that end I took another night bus (14 hours long, I might add) to Marrakech. It is crazy, crazy, crazy! Again, I chose to stay in the medina instead of the ville nouvelle. There are sooo many people. Here the shopkeeps are much more ruthless and persistent than in Fès or Meknès. Additionally, the quality of wares seem much poorer and more expensive.

But the Place Djemaa al-Fna is a sight to behold. There are definite remnants of French influence but it is surely a Moroccan circus. Open food markets, escargot soup (which is pretty good, by the way), snake charmers, Gnawan musicians, jugglers, transvetite belly dancers, fruit juice stands...all mixed into a huge jumble of a crowd. Truly jaw-dropping.

Okay, I'm off for a visit with a hammam to get scrubbed down. Bon nuit!