Looking into the Grande Mosque at Fes

Fancy tile and glasswork in an old home. The cost of restoration on a building like this must be astronomical - so alas it sits vacant.

Where’s My Crown of Olives?

There is far more to Morocco, Al Maghreb, as it is known among its citizens, than I can describe in just a short little blurb. Other than the intrusions of various cultures into this part of the African continent, the geography plays a large role in shaping Morocco as well.

First and foremost, the High Atlas mountain range dominates the heart of the land. Eclipsed only by Kenya's volcanic Mt. Kilimanjaro, the High Atlas rise to a maximum height of just under 14,000 feet and hold the largest mass of snow in all of Africa.

The snowcapped mountains make an especially beautiful backdrop for the city of Marrakesh if they can ever poke through the dusty, sooty air that blankets this town constantly. Widely inaccessible in winter, the high valleys and plateaus hide coniferous forests and, during the summer months, alpine meadows that rival those of California's Sierra Nevada range. To the north the gentler rising Middle Atlas and the Rif Mountains flank the High Atlas; to the south the drier Anti Atlas leaves its mark on the land. The Anti Atlas is unique because it marks the gateway to the sand dunes of the Sahara desert in the east and is also the site of the Kasbahs, ancient berber villages encased within high protective mudwalls in the fertile valleys of these relatively barren mountains. What are not mountains or Sahara desert has been turned from stony hillsides and plains into fertile agricultural land. The main crops are wheat, which now in winter gives mile after mile of rolling hills a velvety green cover, as well as olives, argan, and almonds.

Women in Doorway

In the south, almond trees are now at the peak of their bloom, while elsewhere olives and argan (a tree that's very similar to olives) are being harvested laboriously by beating the branches with sticks and collecting the fallen fruit. In fact, during a four day hike in northern Morocco, I saw nothing but olive trees, so many that I thought I somehow got into southern Spain, if it wasn't for the minarets of mosques rising out of small villages. During this hike I noticed that men tend the herds of goats and sheep and camels while all dogs seem to roam in packs across the countryside and not bother with herding. Life out on the land moves very slowly, as slow as I moved at the end of my first day's hike. Most labor is done manually or through the use of horse and ass. That goes for plowing, pulling carts, and driving the heavy grindstones that squeeze the oil out of olives and argan.

Sleeping out on the land posed its challenges with the hordes of dogs howling all night long in imitation of their wild ancestors. Add to that the competition between the various roosters on each farm and you can kiss a restful sleep under the skies goodbye. The heinous braying of a nearby arse would put a complete end to my snooze attempts and, thus, every night spent outside I watched the constellation Orion sink in the western sky and Scorpio rise from the east as the night wore into early morning. But then again, there were plenty of opportunities for daytime naps under gnarled olive trees. I survived this little countryside trek with only a couple of blisters and one dog bite in the left calf, inflicted by an especially aggressive little bastard. In return it took a solid kick in the head from me. I cleaned the wound right away with a first aid kit, but decided to hitch a ride into the next town to get it thoroughly cleaned and some shots for tetanus and rabies. Luckily none of the teeth went past skin deep or else continuing to walk might have been painful. Occasionally I let the thought of sharks scare me while in the ocean surfing, while various loose dogs have nipped me three times so far in my life. At least dogs don't have the teeth of shark.