Souss River Hike (Morocco)

 

Wad Souss

249.9 kms

He never imagined that this would be the beginning of a decades-long hike around the planet. A Journey that would cover tens of thousands of kilometers in over a hundred countries. This certainly didn't feel like some sort of epic quest.

Instead, it seemed like just something to do on a boring day when you can't think of anything else to do. Just head down to the bus station and just hop on a random bus to go somewhere. Try and pick a destination he's never been to before. Just to switch things up a bit and add a little variety to life. And he decides to bring his guitar along. You never know—might meet some cool musician somewhere—or maybe have the opportunity to entertain some impromptu audience.

He reaches the bus station. There a bus that says “Temsia” that's about to leave. Never heard of the place before. So... it looks like that's the bus that he's going to take.

As he rides the bus through the suburbs of Agadir and into the surrounding farmland, he is struck by the realization that it's actually quite rare that he tries to discover a new place. Ever since he moved here to Morocco, he's been pretty settled, becoming familiar with an area, and then pretty much just sticking to this area and getting into a predictable routine. A very enjoyable and meaningful routine—but a routine nonetheless. He's found his “comfort zone” of friends, neighborhoods and favorite hangout spots, and has rarely strayed from this bubble of familiarity he's created for himself.

Yes, it's true... moving to Morocco... immersing himself in this facinating culture... learning the languages... it has been the most amazing adventure of his life. But it's also been a place where he's gotten very comfortable. It's become home.

But today is different. A restlessness has started to creep in. A sense that... maybe, it's going to be time to step out of that comfort zone and broaden his horizons. He has really no idea how far this restlessness will take him, but he's ready to take the first step.

Day 1:

2.9 kms, March 1, 2000

The bus comes to it's final stop and the Traveler steps out. Temsia, it turns out, is a pretty small, sleepy farm town surrounded by countryside. And, he reminds himself, folks in places like this tend to be quite alert and curious when a newcomer shows up. Not in a suspicious way—just curious.

“I'm going to need an explanation as to why I'm here” he muses... “especially if I end up headed down a dead end alley...”

He suddenly has an idea: “I'll tell them that I'm looking for a musician by the name of Mohamed!” he chuckles to himself. “that'll explain why I'm carrying a guitar with me!”

For quite some time the Traveler has been writing songs—and then finding test audiences down at the plaza by the beach in nearby Agadir. It's been an enjoyable hobby, giving him the opportunity to meet quite a few musicians, make some new friends, and even land a short term gig at a restaurant. The touristy, hippy-friendly beach city of Agadir seems very suitable for this sort of thing. But sometimes the Traveler has felt he need to take it a little further and find other places where he can share his music. That's why he's brought his guitar with him today—just to see what might happen.

Not a lot of options for wandering around Temsia. The Traveler heads down a dusty sidestreet, enjoying the feeling of being in a new place, not really knowing what's going to happen next. Sure enough... it looks like it's leading to a dead end. And sure enough... a young fellow greets him and asks him what he's looking for.

“I'm looking for a musician by the name of Mohamed” The Traveler explains.

The fellow gets pensive for a moment. “There's a Mohamed right down the street here—maybe it's him”...

The Traveler suddenly realizes that his idea is backfiring. In a town like this, everybody knows everybody... so this guy might try to introduce him to every “Mohamed” in town, unaware that it's just a story the Traveler made up!

The fellow follows him for a bit, pointing out where each “Mohamed” lives. The Traveler says, “no... not this one”... Finally he decides he'd better change strategies, and heads back to the main road where there's a cafe/dairy shop where he can sit and get a snack.

A couple more folks join, and ask the Traveler if he can play a song for them, when he gladly agrees to. Everyone is welcoming and seems happy to have a musician in their midst. He plays a couple songs for his village audience, and then they chat about life in the village, versus life in the city. This visit is turning out to be quite special and relaxed—in spite of the Traveler's botched story of why he came here in the first place.

“Come, join me and my family for lunch”, a middle aged fellow, Hassan, insists. The Traveler accepts, and they head down another alley to a large house with a typical Moroccan living room with sofas all around the perimeter. Hassan commutes back and forth between Temsia and Agadir—but he prefers life in the village.

“There are a lot of opportunities here, if you can just see them” he explains “I really think you should open an institute here for teaching English. There's a lot of interest in learning here, I think I would go very well—I might even be able to lend you a space to do it!”

The Traveler listens attentively, amazed at how an impulsive little outing has escalated into a new friendship and a full blown opportunity for a whole new career and life.

“What other surprises might the big world out there have waiting for me?” he wonders to himself.

He finally bids his new friend farewell and calls it a day... heading back to his familiar world, his bubble. Unaware that this little adventure will be the first step of the grandest of journeys. A Journey that will take him literally all around the world.

Day 2: The Souss River

14 kms, Feb 2, 2011

After his impulsive little blind trip to Temsia, the Traveler just doesn't quite feel the same. It's like a window has been opened in the walls of his bubble. A window that shows a beautiful and welcoming world. A world of new discoveries, new friendships... new opportunities to share his music... Suddenly the Unknown doesn't feel as fearful and intimidating as it used to. It feels enticing—like there are a thouasand opportunities out there that he's missing out on by just sticking ot what he knows.

But how do I explore it? He wonders to himself. Do I just keep going to the bus station and hopping on random buses? Yeah.... that might be fun for a little while. But a part of him would rather give some sort of structure to his exploring. To experience the Unkown—but with a plan.

Suddenly he has a thought: what if I go back to Temsia, and just keep walking from there, and see what happens?

So that's what he does. He heads back to the bus station... hops on the Temsia bus... gets off at the same place he did last time... and continues down the road.

Quickly the Traveler realizes that this isn't going to be your typical Point A to Point B hike. After all, he doesn't even know where Point B is going to be! Instead, this is going to be a distracted hike—wandering off to the left or the right whenever something catches his attention.

And it's not long before a dirt road off to the side catches the Traveler's attention. He follows it goes through a compact little neighborhood, and then patches of farmland. Thanks to the recent rains, the whole area is lush and green—not the deserty feel the Traveler is used to in this region.

And then... suddenly the ground drops in front of him, and he finds himself gazing down a cliff and at river down below. On the other side are, is a wide open plain, dotted with villages... and the beautiful snowcapped Atlas Mountains on the other side.

“River?” the Traveler scratches his head. He's lived in this arid region for years and didn't know there was a river here!

Of course! This is the Souss River! He quickly rivers. The reason he hasn't seen it before is because usually it's just a dry riverbed. All the waters are siphoned off further upstream for irrigation. But it seems the rains have been plentiful enough lately to bring this river back to life.

As the Traveler gazes down at the beautiful panorama, he ponders at the significance of this river. The Souss Region of Morocco has been his home for quite some time, and he's learned a bit about it's cultural and economic importance. A predominant Berber region—but with a significant Arab population as well, it has it's own Berber dialect, and has some of the best farmland in Morocco. Here, vegetables are grown both for national consumption and export. It's also a tourism hub, thank to the beautiful beaches of Agadir. And Souss Berbers are known all over Morocco and beyond for their good business and money management skills. All throughout Morocco, and even throughout Europe, if you come across a mhlaba—a dairy shop that also sells delicious fresh juices, there's a good chance the owner is a Berber from the Souss Region.

This is a region that has a special place in the Traveler' heart. It's a place he's felt welcomed and treated as a close friend by many people he's come to know. It's been his cocoon—the place where he's been able to spend a lot of alone time... discovering himself and breaking from his past. But whenever he feels tired of being alone, he just has to go for a walk, and often within minutes he might find himself engaged in a meaningful conversation with a new or an old friend.

And now... he's finally gazing at the river that helped make this all possible. The lifeblood of the Souss culture.

The Traveler feels a special bond with this body of water. He wants to explore it more... hike along its banks. Learn more about the civilization that has developed over thousands of years along this wide valley.

And he has an idea: this could be a theme of my travels: exploring river. The world's great rivers. Not necessarily “great” in length or volume, but “great” in their contribution to human civilization. And this river—while small, has certainly done that.

He follows a path along the top of the cliff for a while, gazing out to the other side. “I'd like to explore those towns on the other side too...” he realizes...

Yes, this is definitely not going to be a “Point A to Point B” hike...

Villages along the South Souss Shore

Eventually the clifftop path ends and he follows a dirt path back to the main road. It's not long and he find himself in another village: Bouzog. The Traveler feels a little rush of excitement. Can't quite explain it... but it seems that, “discovering” a new town... on foot... means something somehow. Perhaps the fact that that he did this using only his own energy and two legs makes it an accomplishment somehow. Reaching another mini-hub of human civilization.

Maybe this is going to be a theme of my travels as well... he muses... “Discovering” new towns on foot...

He realizes he need to commemorate it in some way. To have some sort of little tradition that he can repeat in each town and reinforce this feeling of accomplishment.

Sit at a cafe in each town? Eat something? Not all towns have cafes... Talk to someone? That might not work...

He looks at his guitar and thinks... how about if I play some music in each town?

Might be a bit challenging. Moroccan towns down usually have a plaza where you can sit on a park bench, like towns in Europe or Latin America. But...he still likes the idea.

“Maybe I can adapt the concept—like play a couple of songs somewhere in the countryside outside of town...” he figures.

He decides to give it a try. He finds a boulder he can site on outside town, pulls out his guitar and plays a couple songs. Nobody around. No audience this time. But, it still feels special—almost in a mystical sort of way... like he's giving a “thank you” to this town for allowing him to explore it.

He feels the urge to compose a brand new song... and the words and music quickly starts to flow.

It's been a long road so far and a lonely one at that

But it's taken me this long to begin to understand

The secret that's given me peace in my soul

And the assurance that I'll make it to the end of my road

I used to desire for a lot of things

Now I've learned to simplify know what I really need

What are the essentials so that at the end

I can look back say it was a life well lived?

All I need is a shady park bench

And trusty ol' guitar on my lap

Four or five native folks who'll listen to my songs

It really doesn't matter if they laugh

I need a bus ticket so I can get to the next town

For a cheap lunch and hotel I'll need some cash

And health of soul and body to keep me going until I'm done

That's really all I want in life

Now don't get me wrong don't think I'll turn down

When I get a chance to gain fortune and fame

But soon I get tired of that and I return

To the life I love best to the place I belong

And so... a song is born. And he finishes what he will dub a “Parkbench Concert” in Bouzog. Except a boulder had to subtitute the park bench this time.

What now? Let's continue on and do another town! He tells himself. And continues on down the road. The weather is cool and the landscape is green and pleasant. He realizes he doesn't need some to make up some lame excuse for walking arournd. If anyone asks, he can just say he's enjoying the beautiful countryside.

Right down the road is Ait Moussa, which is a bit larger, with several neighborhoods separated by open fields. The Traveler enjoys exploring a couple of neighborhoods.

Here, the Traveler does have the potential for an audience. A group of boys ask him to play some music for him. But they seem a bit too boisterous for the Traveler's liking. He contiunes on a little ways until he finds a quite olive grove and pulls out his guitar once again.

He continues on... sure enough... another village up ahead, Jorf. Again, another little rush of excitement as he gets off the main road andd follows a dirt road through the town. It’s got a more cozy feel with large houses built closely together. Some simple, some quite large are new. The Traveler figures these must be folks who either own farms, own businesses—or perhaps have worked abroad and this is their summer home.

Here, the Traveler decides to call it a day. It's been just a short hike—but he wants to take a little time to digest it all and figure out where he wants to take this from here.

Day 3: The Greenhouses

22.2 kms, April 6, 2012

The Traveler finds that he is eager to explore more. To visit more towns and do a “Parkbench Concert” in each one.

But where should I go next? As he's tracing out the route he hiked on Google Maps, he realizes: that long would look a lot cooler if it were even longer.

So he figures... why not just pick up where I left off? Why not just make it all one continuous hike?

And so he does. He hops on a bus all the way to Jorf... and starts walking on down the road.

Past the village of Oulad Dahou, the landscape changes a bit. On one side are simple farm plots and scattered trees, on the other: rows of giant greenhouses where vegetables are grown in a controlled environment. It's clear that there's some serious investment in this region.

The Traveler does have some mixed feelings about this. He knows that some of these farms are owned by foreigners and the produce is probably for export. This is sometimes a sore point for Moroccans when there is a shortage of vegetables and the prices skyrocket—and they know “their” tomatoes are being sent abroad.

Another sore point? Well, is friends with a couple of students from Mali and Benin who have gotten management jobs at these foreign owned farms. When he mentioned this to his Moroccan friends, they seemed pretty sore about foreigners “taking their jobs”.

A complaint the Traveler has heard in lands far away as well...

On the other hand, the Traveler knows that export foreign investment is important for this country—and, sometimes these foreign owned companies will pay and treat their workers better than Moroccan owned compainies—so he has heard.

The Traveler passes another strip of shops and houses. Ait Boumussa has a little village hall and a post office, so he figures it has to count as a town.He finds a shady spot facing a open field where he can strum for a bit.

Today is a very hot day. And the Traveler has to admit he's not feeling quite the same enthusiasm as he did yesterday. There's a fairly long stretch where it doesn't feel he's really discovering anything. He even starts to wonder... do I really want to do this?

But one thing keeps him going: there's a city up ahead. And “city” means interesting stuff, right? At least, he knows there will be good food and places to rest in the shade...

Finally he reaches the edge of the city: Oulad Teima.

If he had caught a bus straight to Oulad Teima, he probably would have considered it a grimy, uninteresting town. But after 5 hours of hiking down a boring stretch of road in the hot sun, it feels like a glitzy city with all the comforts of the modern world. Yes... reaching a city on foot is even more exciting than reaching a village on foot.

Walking down the main drag past the market, looking for a snack/dairy shop to reward himself, he sees a familiar face.

“I’m Yassine, from Jorf, remember?” a fellow thells him

Oh yeah, that’s right! The Traveler is cheered to already have his first re-encounter with a friend made on the way. The Traveler invites Yassine for a glass of raib, a Moroccan yoghurt treat, one of his favorite snacks on the road. He assumes there won’t be much more to talk about other than how are things going at high school. But he's very wrong.

Yassine pulls out his cell phone and and shows some picture. “Here’s me and some friends at Foum Zhrana (mouth of the frog).” It’s a giant painted rock on the way to Marrakech… The Traveler had never heard of it. Seems like Yassine is an explorer as well.

“And here we are biking to the hot springs near Agadir. There are no signs, so we just asked the locals” Hot springs near Agadir? How come nobody knows about that? Shouldn’t that be a big tourist attraction? Well… maybe I haven’t explored this region as thoroughly as I’d thought... the Traveler thinks to himself.

And then comes the big surprise. “So did you travel anywhere last summer?” the Traveler asks.

“I went to Mali” Yassine says with a straight face.

Mali?! No, no that’s not possible. Nobody from Morocco goes on vacation to Mali—especially not high school students! Even the Traveler hasn’t been to Mali yet!

Yassine explains. “My father is a truck driver and he invited me to go along. We were part of a convoy of trucks carrying vegetables. We had to travel that way for safety. It was quite an experience—I hope to do it again”

Wow. This guy definitely has the Traveler's full attention—and respect. The Traveler eagerly pries for information, not just about travel information in Mali, but also about what it’s like to be a Moroccan in Mali.

“We had to pay bribes all along the way. In Mali, a lot of people try to rip you off. They assume that since I’m a foreigner I must be rich.” …

Apparently it's not just Europeans and Americans that have that experience...

It’s a very inspiring encounter: inspiring to see a young Moroccan who is interested in experiencing Subsaharan Africa. And inspiring to hear that there’s a least a trickle of commerce going on between Morocco and its southern neighbors—though the Traveler can hardly imagine how they make a profit trucking vegetables that far and having to pay bribes all along the way… Hopefully this is a sign of the future.

Maybe my Journey can go that direction as well... the Traveler muses...

But that's way down the road. Right now the Traveler wants to focus on exploring the region that is his home.

Exploring the Farm Country Capital

If someone in Agadir says he's going to “Oulad Teima”, he probably means he's going to the family farm in the countryside. But the town of Oulad Teima is actually quite big. A population of some 100,000 people—and has grown by about 50% in just 10 years.

But the growth seems quite chaotic. It feels like a village that turned into a vast, sprawling Agadir suburb built in the most disorganized and random fashion. To get from one neighborhood to another you pass flat wasteland with clusters of ugly cinderblock houses littering the landscape.

Oulad Teima proper does have a bustling main drag, where the Traveler finds a lively, indoor market which seems to specialize in pastries. But once outside, he gets an unsafe feeling about this place, in contrast with the peaceful feeling of the surrounding countryside. A dodgy looking fellow seems to be trailing the Traveler... The Traveler reaches a dusty open field where the town abruptly ends and he turns around...

A couple of women that look like over the hill prostitutes seem to think it's a funny sight to see a “tourists” lost in this very un-touristy place… Nearby is a cluster of glue sniffers, chilling out.

Obviously in Morocco, towns need to grow into cities as the country grows and becomes more modern and complex. But it seems sad that all these social ills have to come with that growth.

But is it really the fault of the city? The Traveler wonders. These prostitutes, glue sniffers and thieves aren't necessarily from here. They may have come from a peaceful little village. Perhaps come from a broken home... or a home where abuse was going on. There became outcasts of that society and had to leave.

So where do these people go? To the city, where they can be anonymous and be left alone for the most part... bringing their baggage with them.

But their problems may very well have originated in a peaceful village... a village where a boy with addiction or a girl who is not a “good girl” (a.k.a a virgin) is rejected and forced to leave

So which is better or worse, really? A peaceful but intolerant village... or a troublesome but more tolerant city?

He ponders on this as he wanders around... observing both the good and the bad in this up-and-coming farm-town-turned-city in the Souss Valley.

Day 4: Fording the River

15.9 kms, Nov 7, 2012

The Traveler is ready to hit the road again. But he isn't quite sure where to go. Not really feeling like continuing upstream from Oulad Teima—at least not for now...

He remember the villages he saw on the north shore of the Souss River. Maybe I could countinue the hike—but this time heading downstream on the north side of the river...

So this is what he does. He starts in Jorf where there's a road that looks like it might lead to a way across the river. On the way, he meets a couple of friendly fellows and they chat for a bit. They’re high school students, who seem happy with life in their little village. They join him as he heads down towards the Souss riverbank. Here, the guitar comes out, and he strums a couple of songs for them. Then they show him the place where he can ford to the other side of the river on foot.

This might be a bit challenging, he realizes. It’s not going fast enough to be a serious danger, but it could knock him over, which wouldn’t be good for his camera or guitar.

At first he tries crossing the rapids where he can see exactly how deep it is, but after a few steps, common sense kicks in… this isn’t going to work. Then he tries the quieter part, gingerly taking each step… and manages to get across.

I’ve done it… I have forded the Great Souss River, he tells himself proudly

The North Side of the River

The Traveler immediately notices the difference between the north and the south side of the river. On the south, there’s a lot of good farmland, so the houses are big and modern—very few remnants of the original architecture. Here on the northside, farmland is rocky and scarce and houses are still made of stone and of mud, clearly a much poorer feel here. He wonders how folks here in Ait Baha feel when they gaze across the river and see their neighbors build bigger and bigger houses, while they remain stagnant.

But from a tourists point of view, traditional homes are more interesting than cinder block ones. But this is area is not a tourist attraction for sure.

The Traveler stops to chat with a fellow in front of Ait Baha’s country store. The fellow works in tourism down in Agadir and is eager to practice his English. He tells the Traveler this town is quite old and talks about the contrast between the village and the city. Here people live simply and honestly, but in the city you can’t trust anyone…

The Traveler continues on to the next village, Tamait, a good size town that actually has its own bus. The Traveler follows the long, dirt alleys making a big loop around the town. A very poor, run down feel, with muddy streets, very basic houses and a shabby feel overall

Suddenly it hits the Traveler: Agadir has become a very expensive city due to all the outsiders buying houses there. But wages for hotel/restaurant employees is still very low... which means... a lot of those folks who work in fancy hotels live in places like this.

The Traveler tries to imagine what it must be like for someone to work all day at a 4 to 5 star hotel, where he is expected to wait on guests hand and foot. Then, with his meager salary, all he can afford is to live in this scrappy little slum village...

This is the side of Agadir that the brochures never show. The Traveler is glad he's seen it though—even though he knows he's not going to be able to see the fancy, touristy side of Agadir quite the same after this

He continues on. Douar Bob just barely counts, as it consist of a couple shops along the road, and one side road with a scattering of houses along it… Aw, what the hell… let’s count it.

Here the Traveler heads down to the cliff overlooking the Souss River one last time... then continues on.

The sun is setting, when the Traveler reaches Drarga. Here he decides to call it a day. But he knows he's going to be back and pick up where he left off.

Day 5: The Tekiouine Express

11.4 kms, August 1, 2008

The landscape switches from one village after another to a single, dense urban feel. But it feels like a city that is till in process. The Travelere passes through a big apartment complex being built. A reminder that he is now officially in the Greater Agadir region where people are being forced to move farther and farther from the city. And why? Due to overcrowding? Quite the opposite, Agadir proper actually has less people to it than a few years ago. In fact, much of the city has a rather empty feel to it.

So what gives? Well, it’s become popular for Moroccans living abroad—and Europeans as well to buy a second or third home in Agadir, a home that just sits empty for practically the entire year. Since they’ve got plenty of money to spend, this drives the cost of housing up. Therefore the people who actually live in Agadir, most of whom earn low salaries (a typical hotel job is not well paid here) have been force out of the city to poorly planned suburb towns like Drarga.

Snuggled right next to Drarga, is Tekiouine, a name the Traveler has heard many times before.

Tekiouine at first just looks like a rather run of the mill middle to lower class town with ordinary cinderblock houses and a large market. But this town actually is a destination of its own. It's well known for its tagine restaurants, and folks from Agadir will come out here for a classy meat with prunes and onions tagine, cooked in a clay pan over charcoal—Morocco's most iconic dish.

But it's also another sort of destination: you'll see a row of little bus stations. But these buses don't go to surrounding villlages—or even other Moroccan cities. These buses go do a straight three day trip from Tekiouine to Paris. This is where Moroccan men, wearing traditionl djellabas will ride from their jobs in France to visit their families in Morocco, once or twice a year.

And “family” often mean wife and children, Often fathering a child during the visit... but never being able to be present for the childbirth. People joke that you can tell how many years a man has been working in France by how many children he has.

But why doesn't the man take his wife with him to France? The Traveler wonders.

He's talked to a lot of young local folks about this question—some of them are themselves sons of a father they hardly ever saw, because he was working in France.

It seems the main reason is the these men found the culture and lifestyle in France to be completely contrary to their own. They felt that, if they tried to raise their family there, their kids who not hold on to their religion and values. Their cultures would be lost. They also may have felt that their children would never be fully accepted in French society and would be stuck in the ghettos, trapped in a country that would never really be theirs. On the other hand, if they grew up in Morocco—with their father's support, they could go to school.... start a business... buy land to farm. The Traveler has met numerous examples of folks living the “Moroccan Dream”: dad goes to work in France. He sends money for his kids to get ahead in life. Kids study, work hard and prosper.

The Traveler is quite fascinated by this alternative approach to immigration. While he imagines that it must be difficult for kids to grow up hardly seeing their father... he can understand the logic of this—especially seeing how many children of Moroccans living in Europe simply seem angry and lost... not fully connected with either Moroccan or French culture.

But he's also seen the flip side: children of emigrants who sadly realize the their father COULD'VE given them papers to live a better life in France, and instead are stuck in low paying jobs here in Morocco.

He's also heard that there has been trouble when France started asking for DNA proof when a father would try to bring his son or daughter to France.... and found out that...the kid wasn't his son...

Overall though, it seems these long distance marriages, which are held together with strong cultural and extended family bonds are often more successful than regular marriages.

And looking at these bus stations, imagining the emotions that must be present when the husband and father arrives once or twice a year, inspires him to write a song: “Tekiouine Express”

As they walk down the country path there's fear but also joy in her eyes

As he tells her "tomorrow I will marry but that will be quickly followed by a goodbye

I'm going to work in a distant land where I don't think you should go

You'll stay here under our culture's protection where you'll prepare for us a home

And so they gave to each other their hearts

lives are joined then quickly torn apart

He left her crying in his parent's house

Hoping, hoping things will all work out

-And as he toils each day in a cold and dreary land

His only thought is “I hope she’s all right

It torments him to think that something could happen to her

And he won’t be able to be there at her side

The countdown until that day is almost up

Climb aboard the rugged long distance bus

Take a journey across the continents

It's going to feel like their wedding day again

Taking the three day Tekiouine Express

His heart starts beating faster once he gets past Marakesh

Making up for all the time that they had missed

The three day Tekiouine Express

-He's counting every minute that goes by as the bus chugs across Spain

On the ferry sees Mt Mussa in the distance, he's reached his homeland again.

The last fourteen hours he spends with his face pressed against the window of the bus

Suddenly sees he sees her waiting at the station like the first day they felt in love

And the next few days feel like paradise

Even though they know it'll be followed by a goodbye

It's a beautiful and torturous routine

Embrace who you soon will have to leave

-And so twice a year it feels like their honeymoon again

They d seven children children who somehow turned out OK

Finally time for him to retire, now they'll be together until the end

It's a beautiful story that anybody would want to live

The Traveler wanders around town for a bit. Not much going on on a hot, Sunday afternoon. Up on a ridge he can get a better view of the region, and realizes there are even many more towns to explore all around. There is a lot to explore here in the vast Souss River Valley—which is more of an open plain.

He decides to loop back to the “heart” of Tekiouine, to just chill for a bit... wander around the now empty market... and call it a day.

Day 6: The Hike to Agadir

9.3 kms, Nov 3, 2011

The Traveler takes another moment to take in his surroundings. To the north: the rugged Atlas Mountains begin, not too far away. To the west: Agadir, his adoptive home. To the east: the road he just came from. To the south: the Souss River, and more Agadir suburbs on the other side.

So where to? The mountains are enticing. The Traveler has the feeling that, once he starts exploring mountains, this Journey is going to go to another level, with spectacular beauty and suprises around every bend.

But oddly, it's not the “new discoveries” that are pulling him the strongest. He actually feel the urge to continue this hike... right back home.

Why? Over these last couple of days, he's found that, the more he explores, the more he's able to see things. To appreciate things. To learn knew things. And he'd like to see what it feels like to be back in familiar territory... but with a new set of eyes. A new capacity to see stuff that he's been overlooking all this time.

Exploring isn't just about what you see, but how you see it.

And so... back to Agadir it is.

He follows along the highway a short ways, until he reaches a major intersection: to the north, the highway turns into a motorway and climb up and over the mountains to the fabled city of Marrakesh. To the south: the commercial heart of the region: Inezgane. Forward: to Agadir.

Exploring familiar territory does have an advantage: you're able to appreciate change. The Traveler remembers seeing this same area when it was an empty dusty plain, with just scattered trees and maybe some wheatfields that would be reliant on a fickle rain cycle to produce any harvest. Now? Big box stores and entire neighborhoods that have been built from scratch.

Here in Morocco, it's common to build a grid of streets first, and then the lots are sold and everyone builds their house at their own pace. The Traveler remembers seeing a big, empty grid like this and thinking, “there's no way that's ever going to get filled with houses! It's too far from the city!” He called it “faith city”.

Turns out, whoever planned out this neighborhood was right, and the Traveler was wrong. Now that grid is completely full of houses.

But... the Traveler wonders... how much growth can this city take? Water is very limited. Droughts are frequent. Sometimes, during a dry spell, people have their water cut off. Meanwhile, the swimming pools for the tourists continue to be filled and the golf courses continue to be watered.

Living here, the Traveler has had the chance to see—and experience the darker sides of the beautiful coastal city.

He continues on... past Agadir's university. It once sat alone in big, open field. Now it's in the middle of a neighborhood. And the nice thing about new neighborhoods in Morocco is that it's never just houses. Chic cafes... corner stores... dairy shops with delicious avocado and nut juices... beautiful mosques... In Morocco, neighborhoods quick have a sense of community.

The Traveler finds a spot to sit and enjoy a juice. Enjoying the feeling of being in a “new” place—even though he's actually in the city he's lived in for years.

He then continues on... to his own familiar neighborhood. Today, his Journey will take him right to his own front door.

Day 7: The Slow Tour of Ben Sergao

March 2, 1997

Today something feels different when the Traveler wakes up. It's the same bed (or rather, big block of foam). Same room. Same shared bathroom. Same narrow alley. Same little cheery mhlaba where he can go enjoy his favorite breakfast: lbaid u matisha—eggs and tomatoes with a bit of cheese...

But it all feels different. Why? Because the Traveler still feels that he's in “Discovery Mode”. He wants this day to be remembered. A day that's a part of his Journey. A day when he discovers something new and remembers it and writes about it.

But how will that work? He wonders. He's not quite sure. But he's determined to figure it out. He has the feeling that that little multi-day hike he did up and down the Souss River wasn't just a little one-time little distraction. It could end up be the beginning of something big. A whole new direction to his life.

He grabs his guitar and heads outside... to explore his “old world” in a new way.

The Magic of Morocco

The Traveler has felt a very special bond with Morocco ever since the first day he set foot on its shores, years ago. It's a place with it's very distinct culture and “feel”--and yet... so connected to the rest of the world. Part of that is its geography and history. Look at the map... Morocco is part of Africa—but just a few miles from Europe across the Straits of Gibraltar—and that's where most of the movement of people and goods takes place. At the same time... it also has a very strong cultural and religious connection with the Middle East, thanks to the Arab invasion starting way back in year 681.

Africa... Europe... the Middle East... Morocco feels like it's a part of all three of these “Mega-cultures”... and at the same time, none of them. Morocco is its own thing.

This is reflected in its language. Moroccan's speak a language that even themselves they don't recognize as a language. Derija is a mix of Arabic and French—with some Berber, Spanish, and who knows what else mixed in. A sort of a reflection of their identity. Now they could codify it and make it an “official” language (as has been done with other “combo” languages like Afrikaans, Maltese—and English for that matter!), but instead they opt to use Standard Arabic as their official language, even though nobody uses it conversationally.

At the same time, Moroccan's are constantly exposed to other languages, making them very multi-lingual. Being able to speak 4 or 5 langauge is the norm. At news hour, you can watch the news in Standard Arabic, French, Spanish and three Berber languages—but not in the language most Moroccan's actually speak day to day!

Morocco is also a hub for tourism—and in the 1960s became a destination for the hippy culture, which, it seems was embraced and welcomed in Morocco... even as most Moroccan's continued to believe in and practice Islam. To this day, you can see carefree hippy living and conservative religion coexisting side by side—for the most part without conflict. There is something here for everyone.

And, as has been the Traveler's experience, Moroccan's don't just welcome you to their country, many of them are actually very curious about everywhere else in the world. No matter where you come from on the globe, they will already know something about your country of origin—and want to learn more.

This is quite a contrast with what the Traveler had experienced previously, in Mexico and the United States, where there is generally little interest in what is going on outside of their bubble. When the Traveler arrived in Morocco, he found himself almost immediately drawn into a circle of friends. Friends who wanted to learn about his life, his beliefs, his culture—and eager to share about theirs. Friends who could listen—and argue--about thing that he said that they disagreed with, but without it hurting their budding friendship.

And these friendships can pop up almost anywhere. Just sitting at a cafe. Stopping in a shop to buy something. Walking down the street. And often those friendships would lead to a gesture of hospitality. An invitation for tea and/or dinner. And most Moroccans are very insistent that they are the hosts and should be doing the giving. The Traveler is their guest, an d they find it an honor to share with him.

Yes, there are con artists and faux guides who pretend to show hospitality just to pressure you to buy stuff. But these people are a minority. And once the Traveler gets to know them and their tricks—even they switch over to being “real Moroccans” and treat him as a friend—and a potential associate who might bring them more customers!

It is in th s country that the Traveler has decided to kind of put down roots. Not “becoming Moroccan”... as that's not really possible. Here, “roots” and identities go back thousands of years. You can't just show up here and become Moroccan (although, if you speak Moroccan Derija, people will flatter you and say you're “a Moroccan!”) For the Traveler putting down roots means being a “welcomed outsider”, with no plans beyond... being here....

It means renting a room down a blind alley in the Old City, or medina in the town of Ben Sergao, right next to Agadir. A room that costs him 400 dirhams—about 40 US dollars a month, with a bathroom he shares with two other families and neighbors across the alley so close he can almost reach out his window second story window and touch their house. A room where he can switch roles and be the host rather than the guest for his widening circle of friends. A room where he can step outside his front door in the evening, walk down his narrow, twisted alley, and within a minute be in the middle of a crowded throng of people.

It's a “full immersion” experience in Moroccan culture, and the Traveler absolutely loves it.

Every day kind of feels like an adventure, living in an old medina in Morocco. Every day feels like he's connecting to an ancient world—and the modern world at the same time. It's a life he's been enjoying for quite some time.

But today feels different. Today, it's not just a day of “cultural immersion”. Today, the Traveler is in “Travel Mode”. He feels he wants to continue this Journey he's been on for the last couple of days—right here in his hometown.

Exploring the Old Medina

The Traveler heads up his familiar alley... on to the main road—which, in the evening, gets so crowded with pedestrians that cars can't get through. On up past the neighborhood mosque... then up another narrow alley towards the market. As he walks, he reminisces all the “first time” experiences he's had here.... shopping for some basic furniture and a little camping gas stove to cook in his room... buying fruits and vegetables in the market and 50 cents worth of chicken to prepare himself a meal... the bakery where you can buy delicious bread straight out of the oven...

While these daily activities have become routine, today he's reminded of what a cool adventure this simple life he's enjoying is.

He continues on up the alley. He remembers the first time he walked this way... walking, walking... following the twists and turns... as the Old Medina seemed to stretch on forever...

Then, he suddenly realized... He'd gone in a big circle! When he thought he was going straight!

The Traveler remembers being both annoyed with himself and fascinated. It's almost as if the Moroccan cities are designed to get you lost—which may not be far from the truth. Originally, Old Medinas were also castles with walls to defend from outside invaders, and twisted alleys could be useful so that, if an enemy did breach the walls, they'd still struggle to find their way around, giving the locals the opportunity to fight back.

Now the Traveler knows his way around well—but he still feel the magic of this place. While Ben Sergao doesn't have the beautiful walls and preserved architecture that draw tourists like the old medinas of Fes, Marrakesh or Chefchaouan—it does still have that vibe.
Finally the Traveler reaches the endge of town—with the city of Agadir not far away—gradually creeping its way towards Ben Sergao.

Here the Traveler looks back through a wide, open area where kids come and play football in the afternoon... looping his way back around to his home.

Nothing new discovered today. Everything he's seen is familiar to him. But it feels different. He feels like he's seeing thing with new eyes. As an explorer.

So... he determines... this stroll around my hometown will be a part of my “Journey” as well.

A Slow Tour of Ben Sergao

And so continues the fascination “Slow Tour” phase of the Traveler's Journey. He heads out each day to explore and discover. But at the end of the day, he finds himself back in a world that feels like a trip back in time. A world when people packed into compact castle villages with narrow twisting alleys that are only for foot or donkey traffic. Alleys deliberately designed to get an invader lost and perplexed. A world where you live in very close quarters with other people.

The Traveler could literally reach out his arm out the window and shake the hand of the neighbor across the alley. He steps out of his alley and he might have to wait his turn to use the shared faucet... or the bathroom downstairs. And any time he comes or goes—or any time a visitor comes or goes to his home, the entire neighborhood will be watching and know about it

One of his neighbors include a woman in her 30s and a newborn baby—and a man who only comes by occasionally. Another woman whose relationship status with the man who comes by sometimes is also uncertain. Upstairs is Sayid, an unemployed plasterer who lives with his working wife and daughter.

This is not the image Morocco likes to project of itself, of close knit traditional families that consist of a working day, a homemaker mom, kids and grandparents living together in harmony. These are non-traditional... and also very common “family” situations here in Morocco. And the Traveler is right in the middle of all of it.

Sometimes there are guests that come for a meal. Of course, there's a very specific way to prepare a tagine, so more often then not, the guest will take over and do the cooking “the right way”... It is fun to play host now in a country where he has always been the guest in other people's homes.

The Traveler might head into Agadir to play music, teach an English class or just socialize...

But he also has a lot of time alone. And there's something quite therapeutic about being alone... and yet so close and connected to people around him. With a nosy upstairs neighbor that might just show up an any time. You're alone... and yet never really alone.

Ben Sergao might actually be one of the most important “Slow Tours” of his entire Journey.

The Fundamentalist Friend

The Traveler starts getting to know some local folks. One fellow is Abdullah, a couple of alley turns away. Abdullah, you might describe as a “Muslim fundamentalist”. He sports a scruffy beard and always wears an Islamic fkia. He adheres to strict Muslim rules.

And yet, Abdullah is anything but the “fundamentalist” stereotype. He is very accepting of the Traveler even though the Traveler obviously does not share his beliefs or live by his rules. He is never pushy about his beliefs. And he is also studying in college and pursuing career.
His beliefs, it seems are a personal choice. He just really wants to follow his religion as it should be followed and not be a hypocrite.

Sometimes Abdullah will stop over for a visit and maybe have a discussion about theological concepts, such as... “can Allah be everywhere? But he can't be in unclean places... like a bathroom... so he can't be everywhere...”

The Traveler tries to be respectful. He actually feels a lot of empathy for this fellow who is trying to work out the contradictions of his faith.

One area where the Traveler sees that Abdullah really struggles with is sexual desires. In Moroccan culture men are faced with a complex dilemma when it comes to sex: First, they are taught that men have overpowering sexual urges that must have an outlet. The only legitimate outlet for these urges is marriage. But... no self-respecting father will allow his daughter to marry a man who doesn't have a job and is financially stable... and... most Moroccan young men ARE NOT financially stable...

This is obviously an impossible catch 22. And most young men find a workaround: prostitution. They reason that “it's a sin... but not THAT BAD of a sin” because, after all, you have to find an outlet, right?

Well... then there's another problem. Girls absolutely HAVE TO be virgins when they marry and have any sort of respect and status in society. Otherwise the consequences can be complete rejection from their families and a cruel life that could be worse than death.

So where do you get the prostitutes from?

The Traveler has come to the sickening realization that, while no one will admit it, Moroccan society is set up so that some girls WILL fail and suffer rejection and a life of abuse. The streets need to be supplied with prostitutes so that young, unmarried men can find this pre-marriage “outlet” which they are told that they can't live without.

Then, after they've had their “fun” for a while, and they've gotten financially stable, they can then marry a “good girl”... and never suffer any consequences for the cruel system of abuse they have participated in.

It's a very cruel and utterly hypocritical set up. And few men seem to feel any guilt about participating in it.

Except people like Abdullah. He clearly is trying to control those urges until he can find that “outlet” that his religion allows.

One day he comes over for a meal, and he goes out to wash is hands at the communal faucet. The overweight and often underdressed neighbor lady is there first.

When Abdullah comes back in, he is visibly distraught. “I need to get married!” is all he can say...

An Arab and a Berber

The Traveler's upstairs neighbor is quite a different story—and also provides an interesting glimpse into Moroccan culture. Sayid as an Arab who has married a local Berber girl. The Traveler has learned that Berber's do not like for their daughters to marry Arabs. At first the Traveler just assumed it was racism. But he learns over time that it's actually much more complex than that.

For one thing, an Arab father does not like it when the mother speaks in Berber to the children—or with anyone else for that matter. He's concerned that they might be talking about him, and that makes him uncomfortable. So the Traveler has encountered several cases of “mixed” marriages in which the children did not learn their maternal language. And with that language goes a sense of identity. So if a Berber marries an Arab, the Berber culture is much more likely to be extinguished... and even go extinct eventually, as has happened to so many other cultures around the world. Particularly cultures Arabs have come in contact with.

Go to Egypt... Iraq.... Palestine... Syria... Lebanon... Oman... Yemen... places where there was once a broad diversity of cultures and ethnic identity. Ask those people nowadays what their ethnicity is. The answer: Arab. But they are not Arabs. They are the descendants of cultures and ethic identities that have gone extinct. Moroccan Berbers don't want that to happen.

But there's another reason why Berbers don't want their daughters marrying Arabs: Moroccan Arabs have a reputation of not being hardworking and not treating their wives very well. Berbers have a reputation of treating their wives very well. Whether that's true or a stereotype, the Traveler isn't sure. But in the case of his upstairs neighbor it certainly is.

Sayid often complains that he can't find work. He is an experienced plasterer—he even worked on the famous Hassan II mosque. But now he's unemployed.

The Traveler asks “why don't you just do something else... sell vegetables on the street or something?”

Sayid is not happy with this suggestion. “Me... a vendor?! I went to school! That sort of job is beneath me!”

But it apparently is not beneath him to have his wife work every day... and come home and have to cook and clean as well... while Sayid does nothing.

One day Sayid proudly announces that they are getting a new refrigerator. And his wife is expecting a new child... Then it starts to sink in: Sayid is not desperate to find a job. He has grown quite comfortable and adjusted to this life. He isn't really even trying to change.

The Traveler wonders how many other of Morocco's “unemployed” are in this same category...

Quiet Time in Ben Sergao

And so the Traveler's life continues in Ben Sergao. His little room starts to feel more like home. The kids still throw rocks sometimes, and even joke about “robbing him” while he walks up and down the alley. But the Traveler feels perfectly at ease here. He knows people here. He is a “wyld medina” --son of the Old City and he knows his way around this place.

He puts photos on his walls of of friends... maps... lyrics to his songs... even creates a poster. This tiny room feels more like “home” than any other place he's paused in. He even feels like he could stay in this place forever.

One night, riding home in the collective taxi, a pretty young girl next to him strikes up a conversation, saying she wants to learn some English. Then she gets off.

The driver is flabbergasted. “She wanted to go home with you!” he exclaims “why didn't you take her?”

The Traveler knows better. Everyone is watching him when he goes up and down that alley. He knows that while, when a Moroccan takes a prostitute home, it's something folks might turn a blind eye to. But a foreigner? This would arouse serious feelings of jealousy. All of a sudden that prostitute becomes their “sister” that this foreigner is taking advantage of...

One day, a younger sister of the older neighbor ladies comes for a visit. She knocks at the Traveler's door, offering to share some couscous, as is the custom to do on Fridays in Morocco.

“You shouldn't have eaten it!” Sayid exclaims when he finds out. “she probably put some magic potion in it to make you fall in love with her!”

Apparently the magic potion wasn't strong enough. But the Traveler does start to feel a bit lonely during this time. He knows he is still missing that one vital piece for this place to truly feel like “home”. And he knows that it is within his power to put that piece in place.

But if he were to do so... that would most likely be the end of the Journey. And the Traveler is not ready for that.

But this does not mean that the Traveler's time in Ben Sergao is lonely. Here, for the first time in his Journey, he has the opportunity to play host rather than just guest, and invites a number of former and new friends over for dinner, which the Traveler learns to prepare, using just a little propane camping stove. Student friends from Central Africa Republic, Burkina Faso and Angola... a Korean ex-pat and his wife... the gang of college students that first welcomed him to Morocco... friends from the US and Mexico .. even a random tourist every now and again...

Sometimes, to make the visit seem even more exotic, the Traveler will lead his guests for a full loop around the Ben Sergao Old City before reaching his room, giving them the impression that he lives deep, deep in an endless labyrinth!

It's a fun experience to be able to live a very tight budget lifestyle—and still be able to show proper hospitality to others... just as he has received so many times in this country.

The Landlord

His landlord even ends up being a friend as well, inviting the Traveler over for the Eid Kbir, the feast of sacrifice, when every family slaughters a sheep. Abdullah's family kind of cheats, though... they hire a butcher to do the dirty work for them. He also invites to the Traveler out to his farm during harvesttime, to get a closer look at what farming life is like. Farming in the fertile Souss Valley has brought Abdullah and his family some level of prosperity. Seeing this is a sharp contrast with the very basic subsistence farming the Traveler saw up in the mountains and isolated oases.

And so the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months as time flies by quickly as the Traveler enjoys his Ben Sergao routine. He spends a lot of time sorting out thoughts in his head... writing new songs... trying to figure out who he he is and where his Journey should go from here.

Morocco seems like a perfect place for this kind of self-reflection. It's a place where, as a foreigner you can feel very much at ease and even feel you could live here indefinitely. But it's also dynamite and uncertain enough that you won't be lulled into a mindless routine that you get stuck in, losing interest in making any change in your life.

Morocco—especially in a place like Ben Sergao—you know you can walk outside on any give n day and have a new experience... see something will stick with you forever... make a new friend. It's a place where you can feel like you're still on a “Journey” without having to walk more than a hundred meters from your front door.

As the Traveler is able to teach an occasional English class and make enough money to pay his “bills”, (which are minimal), it strikes him that he could go on living like this indefiitely. It's true, he's in Morocco on a 90 day tourist visa, but that can easily be extended by doing a quick border crossing to Spain and back.

Should I do it? He wonders. He's never had this feeling of contentment with his life as he has here in Ben Sergao. That restlessness seems to be slipping away.

Living in a Bubble

One thing the Traveler does have to periodically remind himself, is that, the experience he is living here in his 40 dollar a month room at the end of a twisted alley is not a “real Moroccan” experience. Yes, he is in the neighborhood, eating the same food, with the same kind of limited furnishings of a “poor” Moroccan. But he is not living their experience.

Why? Because he knows that for him this lifestyle is a choice. A choice he could fairly easily walk away from, and go on to enjoy the luxuries that many people around him dream of enjoying, but never will.

This realization makes the Traveler a bit uneasy. He wonders what psychological and social effects it has on him and those around. Am I actually living in a bubble, disconnected from the real struggles, disappointments and aspirations of those around?

Part of him really likes this life and this feeling. He is living in his own world... on his own journey. He knows that he has no interest in living the “real Moroccan life” you are always at risk of being exploited... where you are under severe social pressures to conform to norms you may not want to conform to. Where you are forced to rely on your family all the time—a family you may wish to escape from. Where you may dream of moving elsewhere and starting a new life.... but you find a massive wall in your way.

One day, the Traveler puts these thoughts into a song about an imaginary conversation with his neighbor.

Talking to my neighbor in Ben Sergao

I said "I am just like you

Cooking over a little portable stove

Living in a single room

I don't have any nice clothes

I walk, I do not drive

So your really can't envy me

We live the same sort of life"

My neighbor scoffed and said to me

"Don't take me for a fool

You live this simple life

Because that's what you choose

But any day that you want you can get on a plane

Go to the land of well paid jobs

You have many options in life but I do not"

It's not the same thing you're not like me

I said to Sayid "I've been there

I've worked, I've made money, lived that life

But I found in that ratrace

I wasn't satisfied

I find life more fulfilling

Living here just like you

If you think that you're missing something

You're wrong, here's the proof"

Then Sayid asked me a question to which

I couldn't respond

"Do you think it's fair you can make that judgment

And I cannot?

I'm not surprised that you've sampled and found

This is the life you most enjoy

But how do you expect me to feel the same

When I've never had the choice?"

It's not the same thing, you're not like me.

Some people get a free ride other people //struggle//

Some people get a free ride Others have nothing but trouble

Some people get a free ride I can't figure it out

If you lived in another country you would've starved by now

Sayid went on "for you all this

Is an exciting game

Knowing that if things ever go wrong

You have an easy escape

For me there is no way out

This is not a tourist trip

So don't pretend you understand

My life's experience

Why don't you burn your passport

Shut down your bank account

Get yourself a local ID card

Try to find a job in this town?

If you were really stuck here

Never able to leave

I'm sure you'd start having second thoughts

About the life of simplicity

Finally the Traveler comes to the conclusion: yes, I could live this life indefinitely and find happiness in it. But to do this, I would either have to continue living in a bubble, which would make me an imbalanced, self-centered person... or I would have to go “full native” and take steps to REALLY immerse myself and share in the real Moroccan experience and challenges.

Days 8: Playing Music in Agadir

20 kms, March 11, 1997

Ben Sergao is a great place to get a feel for traditional Morocco—to feel immersed in the Old Medina experience. But it's not the best place for the “park bench concert” concept. There is a little park in the middle of the highway where it divides, where the Traveler does pull out his guitar for his official Ben Sergao concert. But he would like to test out this concept somewhere more suitable... someplace where he can feel at ease and in synch with the vibe around. A place where he's neither disturbing people nor being disturbed—but people can come and listen if they like.

The Traveler knows just the spot for this: the plaza by the boardwalk at the Agadir beach.

So today he heads that direction, following the highway into Agadir proper, greeted by by hotel complexes and upscale restaurants. Agadir feels worlds away from his home in Ben Sergao.

He reaches the large plaza right near the beach and sit down. Unlike in the villages along the Souss River, here it's not awkward to pull out your guitar and play a couple songs. Nobody will think it strange. More likely, some fellow musician will show up and ask for a turn.

And so, the Traveler starts to play a song he's been working on... dedicated to this amazing country that has become his home: Morocco, a.k.a El Maghreb

There is a country that is always in between El Maghreb

Not really African nor European only halfway Middle East El Maghreb

Their language is a mix of east and west blended like a symphony in El Maghreb

Like a spunge absorb from many cultures but somehow remain unique El Maghreb

Here people love their country

Although many plan to leave El Maghreb

Because to reach their dreams they must fly afar

But never cut the strings to El Maghreb

This is a country where things don’t come to you easily in El Maghreb

The earth is harsh the sky is fickle many barriers in between you and your dreams

But no matter the disappointments here people continue to believe they can achieve

For every locked door they’ll try a hundred different keys one will succeed

They learn about many countries

Who knows where that door might lead, across the sea

But no matter how far they go

They still hold that sense of identity in El Maghreb

I’ve lived in places where everything comes to you easily the lethargy

If you can have everything without a struggle than success cannot be sweet, it’s all for free

But arriving in Morocco was like a sudden jolt of

Electricity waking from sleep

People striving, reaching, climbing, scheming, planning

I thought, so what about me? What are my dreams?

There are other countries where people have been crushed repeatedly, makes you weep

Beated down so many times they’re just resigned to misery no longer dream

But here though the climb be rugged there are

Opportunities though the climb is steep

And surrounded by many determined climbers
I must find a mountain for me, go for the peak

I realize I can no longer just coast

Through life idly, I must achieve...

A couple folks sit down nearby to listen. The Traveler glances over at them and gets a sense that they're feeling what he's feeling. There's a connection that's been made through music. He sings a couple more songs. More people gather.

A young fellow asks if he can have a turn on the guitar. He starts playing Hotel California—one of the most popular songs here in Morocco...

It's a special moment. The Traveler realizes that he wants to experience this over and over again. He thinks to himself... “why not make this a tradition for a while? Just come here every day... enjoy this experience...”

And so he does... day after day... Sometimes alone... sometimes with friends. Sometimes making new friends. Like two Moroccan brothers who are studying to be doctors in Senegal. Vazga, a student from Burkina Faso, who wants to learn guitar as well—and picks it up very quickly. Or Miguel, a jolly young fellow from the Land of the Traveler's Youth, who shares the Traveler's same sense of humor... or an amazing blues guitarist—who also breaks a string on the Traveler's guitar each time he borrows it!

Sometimes there are magical moments... when it feels like time stands still. Or a special connection with his audience. There are brief moments when the Traveler feels he could continue living this life indefinitely. But he knows this is just a temporary phase. The open road is calling him.

Day 9: Cultures of Agadir

20 kms, April 1, 1997

Agadir is a place where the Traveler has a friends from a wide array of cultures. This is why it's a place where he feels connected with the entire world.

The Traveler finds himself spending more and more time with Nourdine and his gang at their evening hangout, under the lightpost on the corner. He finds he really connects with these guys. Here he starts to appreciate more and more the good aspects of Moroccan culture.

They are very curious, always wanting to learn more about other cultures, lifestyles and ideas. They seem very confident in their Muslim faith—but at the same time eager to learn what other people believe. They enjoy engaging in lively debates. The ask meaningful questions.

The Traveler doesn't remember a time when he's hung out with people with whom he developed such a deep bond so quickly. They even ask questions that he realizes he'd never asked himself, and knows that he should.

They talk about how religion plays an important role in their lives. “Sometimes when I'm under a lot of stress and am studying for exams, I stop doing my prayers. But I just don't feel right until I start doing them again.” One of them explains. Clearly religion for them is about personal choice—it's not something they feel has been forced on them by their parents or country.

Nourdine explains “Islam teaches that there should be balance. You shouldn't be too religious—just focused on religious things. And you shouldn't be too secular. You need to find a balance between the two”.

The Traveler knows, though, that not all Muslims feel this way...

The Traveler learns more about Moroccan approach to sexuality. Some of the fellows feel that having sex is a “must” for a young man, and don't feel ashamed about frequenting prostitutes. Others in the group are trying to avoid temptation until marriage—which they know is only an option once they have jobs and are settled in life, which could take a long time. They know that, even with a college education, their prospects of finding decent jobs in their country are slim.

They talk about global politics. But no one ever says anything critical against the king. The Traveler learns that, when it comes to criticizing the king, you cannot feel safe even with your closest friends. Spies are everywhere, and anyone could be a spy.

One day, flipping through a newspaper, they come across a picture of the king with a tear in it. They very carefully fold the newspaper up. Nourdine explains “there was a young boy who was goofing around and tore a picture of the king. The boy disappeared and was never heard from again...”

The flip side of Moroccan hospitality is something else the Traveler learns about. In Morocco, it is an absolute requirement that, if someone shows up at your house, you have to serve them tea and food. So... parents do usually NOT appreciate it if their son brings friends over. That's why the guys hang out on the street corner. It seems that the hospitality rules actually can make people a bit less hospitable it seems...

The Picnic

One day they invite the Traveler and Jaime out for a picnic. Everybody pitches in. “Not you guys though” Nourdinne tells the Traveler “you are our guests”. They carry potatoes, vegetables, meat, a camping stove and a heavy tagine or clay pot with a cone top—and of course a teapot and glasses--and head out towards the farmland near the mountains.

The Traveler is quite impressed, as these teenage boys cook a meal from scratch... prepare tea... just as their mothers would. Then everyone gathers around the tagine and eat together, tearing up bread and dipping it in the sauce. The Traveler knows the rules: no one touches the meat until the end, when it is divided up, then everyone picks a number and is assigned their portion. Eating the meat is the highlight of the meal.

The Traveler is very grateful for this invitation and chance to get a deeper glimpse into their culture. Almost all of them seem clean cut kids who are studying in college and have big ambitions for the future. Except one “Smoker”, they call him, because he smokes hash and hasn't made very good choices in life.

“He's been our friend since high school, so we always accept him in our group” Nourdine explains.

Other Cultures in Agadir

The Traveler heads off to teach his English class today. Mutapha is a Berber fellow who seems to be living the “Moroccan Dream”, which is a bit different than the “American Dream”. In the Moroccan dream, the father goes off to work all his life in France, leaving his wife behind and visiting her once or twice a year. Then he helps his sons start a business, and they work hard and become relatively wealthy. Mustapha live in a beautiful house with his parents and runs a successful shop in town. He treats the Traveler quite well, sometimes inviting him out for a delicious tagine dinner at a restaurant at the edge of town.

Years later the Traveler does encounter Mustapha again. Mustapha is now married, yes, to a young virgin girl from his village. He's become religious and now talks about his pilgrimages to do his hajj in Mecca, rather than his trips to Thailand and Paris...

Moroccans aren't the only people the Traveler hangs out with in Agadir. This area is a magnet for folks from all over the world. College students from all over West Africa... fishing boat crews from South Korea... and missionaries... LOTS of missionaries.

The Traveler soon finds himself connected with one sub-culture after another. On Sunday he decides to check out a church, with energetic singing inside. Here he finds a crowd of Sub-saharan Africans singing in French—and occasionally in English. It's quite a refreshing change to the rigid, solemn prayers at the mosque, and the Traveler feels himself drawn in. Afterwards, the Korean pastor gets up and preaches in broken French to the congregation.

This church, the Traveler learns, is a “mission” from Yoido Full Gospel Church, the largest church in South Korea. It's allowed to function openly here in Morocco on the condition that cater only to foreigners, not Moroccans. The Traveler spots a nosy fellow nearby who seems to make sure that that's what's happening.

Afterwards, everyone comes and eagerly welcomes the Traveler. He is then invited to join them upstairs where the pastor's wife has prepared a Korean meal for everybody.

These fellows are all students, who come study in Morocco on a special scholarship program. It is a challenge for them though. Although the teachers are supposed to teach in French, they often switch to Moroccan Arabic—which the foreign students don't understand. But they are very bright students and, if they pass, they say their diplomas will help them a lot to find jobs in their countries of origin. Guinea... Burkina Faso... Chad... Benin... Cote D'Ivoire... Togo... Congo... Cameroun—even some students from non-Francophone countries like Guinea Bissau and Angola.

It's a lot of fun hanging out with these fellows. Some of them seem like really down to earth guys... others seem to have a bit of a snobbish attitude—but all seem to get along with each other and this seems to be a place where they can feel at ease and practice their faith freely.

The Traveler does offer to give some free guitar classes, which several of the students gladly accept. Some of them pick it up quite quickly—one fellow from Benin actually starts composing his own songs after just a couple of lessons!

The Korean pastor takes a liking to the Traveler as well. Even as the Traveler explains that he doesn't share the same beliefs, the pastor seems to feel at ease telling the Traveler of his challenges and frustrations being away from his culture and homeland. Korean and African cultures are mirror opposites in many ways, and it seems that he feels quite isolated here—and his wife moreso. They are very happy when the Traveler invites them over for a meal in his little room and attempts to prepare a meal for them.

As the African students continue on with their studies, the Traveler wonders what the future has in store for them. Obviously opportunities are quite limited in their countries of origin. But there are opportunities, he is told.

“A college degree from Morocco is well respected in my country, Central African Republic. So I should be able to find a job their quite easily.”

The Traveler learns that, yes this is the case. Some become teachers, bankers, or get jobs with the government.

Continuing to converse about Central African Republic, the Traveler hears something troubling. “Dignity is very important in our culture”

“What do you mean by that?” The Traveler asks.

“We don't do any manual labor. All manual labor is done by immigrants—mostly from Congo”.

The Traveler is surprised by this—since after all, Central African Republic is one of the poorest countries in the world. But it's also underpopulated, so it does make sense that there would be a need for immigrant labor. But the idea that “dignity” means you have servants to do all your work? This doesn't set right with the Traveler. But it is a theme which will come back again and again during his travels—and make him wonder if economic prosperity is really a good thing—if it just makes people exploit other people even more...

The Date

The Traveler decides to do something different today. He's going to invite a girl out on a date. Emna is from Gabon. She radiates a lot of positive energy—and is a great singer. The Traveler thinks... why not give it a try?

It's a pleasant experience, as they head down to the coast for some ice cream. Emna however is quite religious and not very accepting of folks outside of here sphere... She also mentions that, by Gabonese law, anyone who marries a Gabonese must renounce their citizenship and become Gabonese!

“It's because we have a small population” she explains...

The Traveler is glad he had the courage to try something new, even though he knows now that nothing will come of this...

Days 10: The Souss Commercial Capital

21.3 kms, Feb 16, 2008

It's time, the Traveler deterimines one morning. Time to get out there and explore another town. And he knows exactly where to go.

Right to the south of Ben Sergao, the Traveler knows, is another full blown city: Inezgane. So instead of his typical trek to Agadir, today the Traveler and his guitar are going that direction.

Here the Traveler immediately sees why this is considered the “commercial and transport capital”. There's a huge collective taxi station, with a sea of blue, antique Mercedez, that will drive you—and 5 other passengers—to any village in the region for a bargain price. Next to it is a bus station that's larger than the one in Agadir... and across an endless row of arches that marks the facade of Inezgane's famous market, where you can buy pretty much anything under the sun. This region is well known for producing quality fruits and vegetables. While the best quality produce goes gets exported to Europe, a lot is sold right here in this market as well.

Inezgane, the Traveler quickly realizes feels like “real Morocco” with its hustle and bustle—in contrast with the unnatural quietness Agadir. Here your senses are constantly bombarded with sights, sounds and smells and the feeling that there is something unexpected around the corner. The Traveler eagerly plunges in to explore this city.

One interesting thing that the Traveler notices is that, during prayer times, shopkeepers will “close up shop” by balancing a stick across the entrance. Obviously that stick is not going to stop anyone from stealing their wares.

So what does? Are there other shopkeepers watching out for each other? Or are people here so honest that they just don't have to worry about stuff being stolen?

The Traveler heads out up a street and then down into another, much scruffier market. Here there's a long alley selling nothing but random screws and pieces of metal. Here shops are just a makeshift sheet of plastic held up by a couple of wooden posts. And here, the Traveler finds out first hand that, yes, there are thieves here in the Inezgane market.

In a crowded area he finds a tall guy standing in his way. Then two guys pushing on his sides. He immediately gets uneasy about the situation and backs out to where there is more space.

Yep... sure enough. It was a team of thieves who were distracting him while another guy picked his pockets. Luckily the Traveler had foreseen this sort of situation and kept his wallet in his front pocket. All they managed to get was him comb.

When he glares at the group, one of them tosses the comb back to him...

The Traveler feels proud of himself for having outwitted a team of pickpockets. But he also feels this is a warning: he is a target for thieves... and next time he might not be so lucky. He decides he'd better he'd better not push his luck too much farther. He heads back out to the quieter streets and continues east.

Suddenly, down a narrow alley between two buildings, the landscape suddenly opens. He re he gets a panoramic view of the Souss River... and the multiple cities and villages on the other side, stretching on into the horizon each with their quintessential mosque minarets rising above.... with the foothills of the High Atlas serving as a backdrop. He suddenly feels all the more excited to fully explore this region and wander through every one of these towns.

He continues on, down another street. A group of fellows ask for a song. He agrees—jokingly demanding 10 dirhams per song... and finds himself putting on an impromptu street concert.

A few minutes later, with kids heading home from school, he starts having crowd control problems and has to call the concert off. Teenage and young adult Moroccans don't usually like having a crowd of kids around and soon half the crowd is trying to chase the other half away, making things a bit chaotic.

A couple of guys do follow the Traveler on to a quieter spot where he plays a couple more songs.

“Come to my house for lunch!” one of them insists.

“OK.. but first check with your parents to see if its OK.” the Traveler responds.

The fellow heads home, and then returns bashfully. “Uh.... my dad said no. He's very strict and religious. He doesn't want a foreigner coming with a guitar”...

"So what does your dad think of your heavy metal t-shirt?" The Traveler asks.

"Oh, I always cover it up when I go home--he would burn it!"

So, as “Plan B” for showing hospitality, the fellows offer to show the Traveler around the market once again. This time, the Traveler is surrounded by his new posse, and knows he will not get is pockets picked.

The Dark Side of the Souss Valley

The Traveler decides to spend another day exploring Inezgane, beyond its market and commercial core. He continues as the city stretch on and on... to some nicer, more middle class homes... until finally the city starts thinning out and its just a scattering of houses amidst mostly empty lots. But clearly this city is going to continue to grow—especially as Agadir has become too expensive for the average working man.

Heading back into town after dark and the Traveler gets a grim glimpse at the darker side of the Souss region. This region is know for it's hardworking, devout and business savvy Berbers with strong family values. Overall, its known to be much safer than other parts of Morocco. But in an alley next to the Inezgane bus station, the Traveler sees its undebelly: this area is packed with homeless children... glue sniffers... the bottom of the bottom of Moroccan society... just shuffling about in the shadows, ignored and forgotten.

This is a phenomenon the Traveler will see a lot in urban Morocco. A lot of homeless adults and children, living in the shadows... often addicted to cheap, destructive inhalants like glue. This seems even more common than in poorer countries in Africa.

The Traveler wonders... why? In a country so seemingly focused on “family values”, why does it seem that so many fall between the cracks? He knows he needs to learn more on this. And the answers he he will find will be very, very troubling. While Morocco might feel like paradise for a free spirit white male foreigner who just wants to wander free and make friends with people... this country does have a very dark side, not visible to the casual tourist.

Finally, the Traveler makes his way back towards Ben Sergao, taking a detour through another suburb of Dcheira. This working class suburb has a bit of a rough reputation, but the Traveler

doesn't sense any of that as he walks down the main drag lined with a colorful variety of shops.

Day 11: The Gig

0 kms, April 21, 1997

While Agadir doesn't have the bustling medina feel with narrow, crowded winding alleys, it does have some other things that make the Traveler want to linger here a bit. Like food. Lots of really good cheap food. In the neighborhood of Talborjt, which is a bit of a budget-friendly touristy area the Traveler finds all kinds of delicious meals and treats. The Traveler didn't realize how much food can make you have such warm feelies about a place...

Of course, the main attraction in Agadir is the beach. A long beautiful sandy coast that goes on for miles, with a pleasant boardwalk and lots of cafes packed together. Here is a large plaza around a giant couscous dish (Which the Traveler is told, holds the world record for largest couscous). It's a perfect place to pull out his guitar and play a couple of songs dedicated to this country that keeps feeling more and more like a home.

Next day, the Traveler is back at the same place with his guitar. Typically he plays his set in a town square and feels he's ready to move on to the next town. Not here in Agadir. There's something special going on. A bonding being formed that he wants to see what it leads to.

Today he is joined by a couple of young brothers. They are Moroccans who are studying medicine in Senegal, now on vacation. And they play guitar, playing some of the cover songs that folks always ask for that the Traveler doesn't feel like playing. The Traveler finds a connection with these brothers and their journey.

He is struck by the reality that his perception of Morocco as a welcoming, safe and friendly country would be quite different were he of another gender.

Still, he wants to enjoy this experience and try to focus on the good as well.

And so a new routine begins. Here the Traveler doesn't even bother cooking. There is so much ready made delicious food all around him. He gets up and heads out to one of his favorite breakfasts: “Lbaid u matisha”, eggs and tomatoes with some melted cheese on top, accompanied by a freshly made raib or yoghurt. He greets his neighbors. He feels he fits it.

Not quite the exotic feel of Ben Sergao...but he definitely feels he could be at home in this place.

And so the Traveler settles into a beautiful routine here in Agadir. Getting up in the morning and heading out to enjoy a delicious breakfast at the local mhlaba, or dairy store... Maybe spending some time alone playing music... writing... or just thinking.... Heading off to teach his English classes, or to hang out with his friends from around the world... Or just wandering the streets, the market... the beach strip... or up into the mountains.

The Hustlers

In the market and down by the beach, the Traveler actually starts to enjoy the hustlers. Once they realize that he's not going to fall for their ploys, they actually show their more hospitable side, inviting him in for tea (no strings attached) and telling him of all the tricks they use (some of the herbs they sell are completely fake).

“People will trust you—you're a foreigner” they tell him. “you should work with us... bring us tourists and well give you a 50% commission!”

Down by the beach, strumming near the boardwalk, he is given a much more attractive offer. A local restaurant asks if he can play music for them a couple of nights a week, which the Traveler gladly accepts. It feels good to be singing in front of a microphone, with the music booming for all to hear, once again.

But the gig doesn't last long, unfortunately. It seems the other musicians are getting jealous—plus, they insist that the Traveler has to play covers from the 60s and 70s, which he doesn't feel like doing...

The Traveler does, however, continue to enjoy playing down at the beach. More often than not he will be joined by another musician or two who will take a turn at the guitar. Some musicians are very good. One fellow can do an amazing Jimi Hendrix riff... but always breaks a string in the process. Occasionally one or two of the Traveler's African student friends will join him as well.

Life is good. Sometimes the Traveler feels like he'd just want to live this way for the rest of his life.

And so the happy routine continues... teaching... hanging out with friends... playing music down by the beach. Once again the Traveler gets the feeling that he could live this life indefinitely. He's found a life that is both comfortable and meaningful.

Today the Traveler is joined by an enthusiastic young fellow, Miguel, who is on a “mission trip” from Mexico. The Traveler really enjoys his companionship and good sense of humor as they take turns playing music for whoever wants to join.

The Traveler has no idea that they will play music once again someday... on the other side of the world.

The Traveler takes a stroll up his favorite budget meal street... stopping for a delicious juice of avocado and nuts... then on to a bowl of harira soup... then his favorite sandwich shop where you are serve a hefty serving of grilled heart meat in a baguette with fries.

The Traveler doesn't find himself getting tired of these delicacies. But he does wonder... am I getting a bit too comfortable and complacent? In my comfort and pleasure, am I turning a blind eye to the suffering around me?

He starts to get a feeling that maybe living this life indefinitely is not a healthy thing.

Days 12: Finding a Job

28 kms, Feb 1, 2000

Today the Traveler has an idea: what if I go and look for a “real” job as an English teacher? Once again he's feeling the desire to put down roots and making his experience here more open ended.

So he does... he looks up all the private schools around town, does up his resume and starts the trek.

The Traveler does find interest in a couple of schools for him to teach at. But they don't want to go through the hassle of red tape to get him a contract for a “carte de residence”, a work visa. “If you can get a visa through someone else, you can work for us on the side.

Later the Traveler finds out that this school will offer work to college graduates majoring in English... have them work a couple months... but never pay them until they finally quit.

This is a troublingly common practice here in Morocco.

There is one place that does offer work visas to foreign teachers: the American Language Center, which is a joint American-Moroccan project to teach English and have cultural activities. This is the Traveler one big shot.

He goes inside a walled compound with a policeman on guard. Sometimes there is anti-American sentiment—even terrorist attacks that might target this center. Once inside, the Traveler heads up to the directors office... and is offered a job on the spot.

Second Search for an Apartment

The Traveler leaves the Language Center with his heart racing. This is an opportunity unlike any other on his Journey: to actually stay in a country as more than a tourist: as a resident. And he wants to make the best of this experience.

The Traveler heads out to look for an apartment again. This time he goes a bit farther—up into the more residential areas. Still sticking to the same plan of asking random people.

The second guy he asks says. “Oh, my uncle has rooms he wants to rent. He's at my house right now. Would you like to come and meet him?”

And so the Traveler follows him up a straight, narrow street. He enters a house which has a very cheery, friendly atmosphere. Here he politely greets the grandmother... father... mother... uncle—and the six mostly grown children of the famly.

He is taken to his room in another neighborhood called Khiam. It's a more down to earth, working class neighborhood. The Traveler get the feeling that this will be just his style.

The Traveler really enjoys teaching. His students are high schoolers or young adults. Almost all are there because they want to be there. And he is encouraged to spend as little time as possible talking and encourage his students to talk more. So it really feels more like “fun” than like a job, once he starts getting used to it. The Traveler doesn't have many hours, but it's certainly enough to pay his bills.

Having Dinner with an American Immigrant

Today the Traveler is invited to dinner by a colleague from work. Ginny is a middle aged American lady who came to Morocco decades ago... fell in love with a Moroccan... became a Muslim... married and has lived here ever for some twenty years.

And what was the draw?

“I was in Tanger on a tourist trip and stayed up all night partying. Before dawn I heard the call to prayer, and it was the most beautiful sound that I'd ever heard”

They live in an simple old house in the working class part of town and she drives an antique French Ercat, and seems happy with this down to earth life. Her three sons are respectful and well behaved.

The Traveler is inspired and intrigued by this tale of the American who became a Moroccan...

Now the time to make a decision. Should I continue in this life or move on? The Traveler gets the feeling that the time to move on is coming. But he still feels that there's unfinished business here. He still hasn't lived the full Agadir experience somehow...

What could it be, he wonders?

Day 13: A Quiet Berber City

4.9 kms, July 31, 2008

The feeling has been building up for quite some time now. And today, he knows it's time to act. He's going to start walking again. He's not even sure where to. He just needs to walk.

He heads towards the coastal highway. Past his former home, Ben Sergao... Past the old military base. Past Dcheira. Past Inezgane and its grand market and collective taxi station.

Finally, he reaches the Souss River once again.

This time, this riverbed is dry. It doesn't have the same visual effect as the first time in Temsia. But it is a reminder of how he was first imspired to explore this river, region, and culture.

On the other side of the riverbed the “Agadir Metropolis” continues, with another large city, Ait Mellioul..

Agadir is the city the rest of the world knows about, called the “tourism capital of Morocco”. Inezgane is the hub of commerce and transportation of the Souss Region, and Ait Mellioul, which the Traveler is entering now seems to be the hub of industry. With a population of 170,000 it is a full size city in its own right.

But approaching the city center, it has a quiet, almost sleepy feel to it—quite unusual for Morocco. Hardly anyone out on the streets. Most of the houses look fairly new, but it's not clear if anyone lives in them or not.

Later the Traveler learns that more prosperous farmers—as well as Berber's abroad will often have a second home here in Ait Mellioul. Moroccans with extra cash will generally opt to invest in second and third houses, rather than put keep the money in the bank or stock market—institutions they don't fully trust. “When you have a house, you have something of substance” they say. As a result, you have a lot of neighborhoods in Morocco with empty vacation/second homes that might just be used a couple weeks out of the year.

Here the Traveler is inspired at seeing the relative prosperity of many Berbers in this southern region. Their prosperity seems to defy the typical tribal system of North Africa and the Middle East, where certain groups of people only prosper because they are “connected” to those in power. Souss Berbers have prospered, it seems due to their frugality, business skills and teamwork.

But there still are many very basic, down to earth businessfolk here as well. The Traveler finds a very simple cafe down a side alley that serves a delicious bissara soup made of peas and olive oil... a bone warning treat you can enjoy for just a few dirhams...

And with that he brings his tour of this city to an end.

Day 14: Glimpse into a home in Ilqliaa

20.9 kms, July 31, 2008

The Traveler continues on down the road, enjoying the rural landscape. But it's not for long. Right up ahead is another village-turned-city, gradually sprawling across the landscape: Ilqliaa.

The Traveler expects this to be a pretty uneventful visit... maybe enjoy a nice meal... a stroll through the expanding neighborhoods, and then continue on his way.

But Ilqliaa will be anything but that. Ahmed, an enthusiastic young fellow wants to invite the Traveler over. At first the Traveler is reluctant—especially when he learns that Ahmed's father isn't at home, only his mother. So instead, the Traveler and Ahmed wander the country side, along the paths where cactuses are used as fences. Off in the distance, the snowy peaks of the High Atlas provide an inspiring backdrop for the landscape. Here the Ahmed teaches the Traveler how to clean the prickles off the cactus fruit so they can be eaten on the spot. In exchange, the Traveler tries to explain to Ahmed that the cactus leaves can be eaten as well, and are popular in Latin America. The Traveler has never been successful in getting Moroccans excited about this idea.

They wander about. Beyond what appears to be the town dump is another much quieter village of Ait Umghal which the Traveler decides to “count” as a new town....

Spending the Night in a Village

Ahmed is proud of his Berber heritage. Rather than ask the Traveler to teach him English, he insists on trying to teach the Traveler Berber—which the Traveler enjoys. This is definitely a language to learn if he were to settle much longer in this area.

Finally, Ahmed's father comes home and agrees that, yes, the Traveler can come over. The Traveler heads into what feels like a poor home with basic furnishings. The family sits on the floor around a low table for the meal.

The mean is couscous, with is steamed broken wheat with vegetables, sauces and meat poured over the top. Here is where you see a generation gap: older Moroccans typically scoop up the couscous by hand, rolling it into a ball. Younger Moroccan use a spoon.

The father is a vegetable vendor in Inezgane, a hardy fellow who didn’t talk much. The Traveler overhears the him and mother talking about their guest. The father is questioning why this stranger was invited into their home.

“He's a foreigner,” the mother responds. “Maybe he could bring us a car or something”

That escalated quickly... the Traveler mumbles to himself.

But that's not the most disturbing thing the Traveler experiences in this home. Up on the roof, he sees something he will never forget: a baby girl in the patio, with her leg tied to a string tied to a chair, covered in flies

Is this how their a mother treats her daughter? The Traveler is shocked.

It's not until later that it sinks in: most likely that baby is not the daughter. But rather a child that the family has obtained to be raised as the household servant.

Days 15-17: Back in Agadir

March 1-April 27, 2001, Feb 15, 2008

Sure enough, just as the Traveler has suspected, the road has brought him back to Agadir once again. And this time the Traveler feels more connected to this place than ever.

The Traveler goes to see some of his old friends. Most of the fellows of “The Lightpost Gang” have scattered. Several have managed to emigrate abroad and are seeking their fortunes in far off lands. Others have married and settled for middle to low income jobs. However, these jobs don't pay enough to be able to afford to buy or even rent an apartment here in town, as prices here have been bloated by outsiders buying up vacation homes. So the locals have been forced to move out to the suburbs and commute every day. Only Hassan, the fellow that inherited the local family corner store is still around...

Most of the Traveler African student friends are gone as well. Some to Europe or America. Others back to their country where, it turns out, having a degree from a Moroccan university is actually considered a big help in landing jobs in their countries. A few of them have gotten jobs right here in Morocco.

The Traveler wanders, about seeing what friends he can still connect with. It is a bit sad to realize that the days of carefreely hanging out together every evening are forever gone. But life moves on... and the Traveler knows his life needs to move on as well.

Day 18: The Conference

19.7 kms, Jan 31, 2011

The Traveler is going to have a very different experience today. The American Language Center is having a national conference today, which means that the Traveler is going to “upgrade” to a 4 star hotel by the beach. He is going to experience Agadir as a “rich” tourist today.

The Traveler isn't quite sure to make of the experience, seeing waiters and porter scuttling around serving him and his collegues. Instead of thinking “oh, isn't it wonderful to be experiencing this luxury?” his thought is, “I wonder how much this guy is getting paid?” “what kind of neighborhood does he go to at the end of the day?” “How does he feel about his life?” It takes away from the enjoyment of it all.

The hotel they are staying in owned by a Spanish company. Other hotels are owned by Italian a French companies. It suddenly strikes the Traveler that, not only is most of the tourism money not reaching the common man... a lot of it's not even staying in the country.

This leading to the question... is this region really benefitting from tourism at all?

This area suffers from a lot of droughts. In the summertime, often local folks with have their water cut off. Meanwhile, water for the golf courses and swimming pools for the tourists continues to flow...

Thinking about happier things, the Traveler joins his collegues for a walk. The boardwalk has been expanded and spruced up... and there's a new yacht marina built by the port.

Of course they have to do the Agadir pilgrimage: climb to the top of the kasbah and enjoy the view. A couple of the teachers cheat and ride in a taxi, another three join the Traveler for a climb. Along the way the encounter a cluster of dodgy looking fellows. The Traveler hates to think what would've happened if his female collegue had tried to to this alone.

From the top the enjoy a magnificent view of the sun setting over the city, with open ocean on one side... mountains on the other, and thi city and beautiful beach in the middle. Fortunately the Traveler brought his guitar along to commemorate the moment.

There are a couple of guys who will give you a ride on a camel for a small fee, so the Traveler and his Moroccan collegues do the “touristy” thing... and the Traveler also can do his first video clip of playing a “camelback concert” instead of a “parkbench concert”.

Yeah... it is fun to enjoy Agadir “as a tourist”... alongside Moroccans who are also tourists today....

And so his life in Agadir continues. Part of him does feel he could continue this life here indefinitely... Spending time with his new family... Going out to play music down by the beach plaza... A very fulfilling teaching job... Looking for new nooks and crannies to explore...

Day 19: Time to Move on

23 kms, Jan 18, 2011

Today the Traveler decides to spend a “Travel Day” back in this city that has become his home. To explore the city, not as a newcomer, but as someone who has come to know this place fairly well. How does it feel different from when he first arrived?

He walks through the upper neighborhoods. When he arrived, there were a number of shantytowns here, with folks living in ugly shacks. Now, these are gone and replaced with nice homes and apartments. The shantytown dwellers were all given plots of land to live on.

He heads down to Talbourjt neighborhood, where you can get some of the best budget food in Morocco. One of the Traveler's favorite places is a grilled meat joint where you can get a hearty serving or heart meat and fries in a baguette—until it was found out that the meat being used wasn't what people thought....

The Traveler heads past the church, remembering all his enjoyable experiences there. Some of the students have gone back to their countries and gotten jobs there. A couple have actually gotten jobs here in Morocco (much to the chagrin of some Moroccans, when they hear about this...) Others have immigrated to Europe. Overall, it has been inspiring to see young, bright Africans succeeding in life... the Traveler will be looking forward to hearing what the future has in store for them.

He continues on to Bouchakat, neighborhood, another of his favorite areas for indulging in delicious snacks. At first the Traveler tried cooking for himself for a bit, but he realized that it cost almost the same to enjoy a hearty meal at a budget eatery than to prepare it himself—whether it be gamila-- chicken and vegetable stew... or a quarter rotisserie chicken with salad and fries... or a fish tagine cooked over charcoal... or a delicous freshly made panache juice with nuts in it.

Nearby is cinema Salaam, which used to be “the spot” here in Agadir. Now, since everyone has satellite dishes, cinemas have fallen out of fashion. When the Traveler goes to watch a film, there are hardly any respectable folks there, just a couple of glue sniffers....

The Traveler heads to the market to say hi to some old friends there. There’s Mussa, the tailor, who looks older and with fewer teeth and they have a friendly chat together. He shows a picture of his daughter asking if the Traveler knows of a good “Muslim foreigner” who might like to marry her…

Then there’s a guy the Traveler really wants to see: Mohammed, the Saharawi from Boujdour who runs a herb shop scam. Fake guides bring in unwary tourists and he sells them fake herbal remedies. Mohamed invites the Traveler for tea.

“I brought him to you! I want a commission!” a nearby hustler shouts, starting a fight. The Traveler watches in amusement, remembering the good ol’ days when would fall prey to guys like this.

From the market, the Traveler stops by to see another old contact, a successful Berber businessman who he used to tutor in English. Sayeed still looks the same—but much more conservative these days, talking about his trip to do the Hajj in Saudi Arabia, rather than his vacations in Paris and Bangkok…

Yes... this city still feels like home. However, the Traveler feels he's also ready to start expanding his horizons once again. Slowly though... still keeping a close bond with this city and the people in it.

Day 20: An Agadir Suburb

21.1 kms, Feb 19, 2013

Next day it's time to continue on, and follow the highway up the coast.

North of Agadir, squeezed against the mountain where the ruins of Agadir's historic kasbah or castle is, is a large port. Agadir is a major hub for industrial fishing—with both Moroccan and foreign fishing boats docking here. The Traveler has already interacted with folks in Agadir's Korean expat community, who've created their own little “bubble” of sorts, growing their own kimchi and holding to some Korean traditional views that even regular folks in Korea don't hold to any more. Agadir is really a place where you can rub shoulders with a wide array of cultures.

The Traveler continues down the road, where the mountain squeezes closes to the shore. In spite of this, there is a sizeable town here. Anza is actually a neighborhood of Agadir, but it has a very distinct feel. The air is foggy and polluted, and the houses are shabby and run down. Up on the ridge is a big cut in the mountainside and an ugly cement factory. The water looks pretty polluted here as well.

The Traveler veers off the highway and into the neighborhoods. On closer look, there are some houses here that are actually kind of nice… There’s a little main street with your post office and town hall—all the trappings of an independent town—but no… it clearly states that this is “Anza, Agadir”.

The Traveler starts feeling so at ease, that when a group of young fellows outside the high school ask him to join them, he accepts. One of them already has a tarbouka drum, so the Traveler guesses a guitar is all they're missing. He starts with one of his Berber riffs, but it seems he doesn't have the rhythm quite right, and the guy on the drums is having a hard time following along… So then he tries bluegrass and voila! The guy gets the rhythm right away! It's almost like a parkbenching rule of thumb: “when all else fails, play bluegrass”. Bluegrass almost never fails to please a crowd anywhere in the world!

So, Anza actually proves to be quite a fun goodbye to Agadir.

The Saudi Palace

On up the road there's another long walled stretch along the coast, closed to the passing Traveler. But this is no resort catering to well to do Europeans. This is a walled in compound when a Saudi royal has built a palace—right here in Morocco.

Why here? The Traveler wonders. When the Traveler asks locals about the presence of Saudis in Agadir, the Traveler almost always get a scowl or a look of disgust.

“Saudis just come here so they can engage in all the vices that they can't indulge in in their own countries.” he is told. Drinking... prostitution... gambling... the list goes on and on. The Traveler never hears anyone who has anything positive to say about he tourists coming from the sared land of Islam. The land that all practicing Muslims hope to go to for a great lifetime pigrimage.

And it gets worse. The Traveler hears of some who come and trick a young woman to be his “temporary wife”, gets her pregnant, and then abandons her.

And here at this palace—there are even darker rumors. It is said that there is a demand here for “virgin girls” who are brought for the enjoyment of the Saudis. Considering the severe social consequences there are for girls who lose their virginity here in Morocco, the Traveler is sickened when he thinks of consequences of this perverted obsession.

The Traveler will learn that there's a lot going on beneath the surface of this place better known for its balmy weather and vast beaches.

The Traveler continues on, following the highway for a bit, then heads down to the coast to get a taste of the rugged coastline. Who knows how long it will be before this stretch is torn up and turned into a exclusive resort. The Traveler finds a cool rock formation here—a boulder shaped like a ducks head, precariously balanced on another, overlooking the beach.

Finally he reaches a town. Aourir is a very fast growing town--and not in a very organized way. The Traveler passes random neighborhoods of cinderblock houses splattered across the hills.

What is the reason for this sudden growth? The Traveler wonders. A local explains to him: in Agadir, foreigners, expats living abroad—as well as Moroccans from other cities are buying up houses as “vacation homes”. Houses that just sit empty for almost the whole year. This is pushing up the price of housing. So the local people—the ones who work in the tourism industry (which does not pay well at all) are forced to move to the outskirts, unable to afford rent or buy a house in the city. So Aourir has gone from being a quaint “Banana Village” known for its banana plantations, to a sprawling, dusty, working class suburb.

The Traveler walks up its main stretch—up yet another valley, until he reaches a lively high school with crowds of young folks coming out. He wonders what the future holds for the youth of this region.

Is tourism really benefiting these people? He wonders. He imagines they would much rather live in Agadir, close to the beach and enjoy all the amenities of the city, rather than in this scruffy area up the slopes of the mountains. The Traveler is starting to question what the true benefit was of making Agadir the a “tourism capital”.

There is much more for him to learn.

The Traveler sits down at a juice bar and orders an avocado juice a specialty of this region. A ragged looking tourist comes in and needs some help translating, so the Traveler helps him out and they start to chat. They guys says he’s from Portugal, and he and his girlfriend have been just wandering about, hitchhiking and camping out in the open.

“We don’t have a lot of money—so this is a great area for travelling on the cheap” he tells the Traveler. Sounds like the Traveler has found a tourist who actually spends less than he does...

Surfer's Village

Right to the north, on a plateau overlooking the sea is the village of Tamaraght. It seems to have a different look to it,with large, freshly painted houses. Is it an empty beach town? The Traveler decides to climb up the hill to find out.

A couple of old ladies stare at the Traveler as he follows along the stone walls and cactus fences up the hill. Soon he realizes why: It's a dead end.

One of the ladies is following him. But instead of asking him what the hell he's doing there, she points to a tiny little hole amidst the cactuses "there's a way through" she says.

They stare at each other for a bit. Finally she decides to demonstrate and crawl through the hole herself!

Now I HAVE to go through... or perish in the attempt, the Traveler mumbles to himself. So holding his guitar out in front of him he gingerly picks his way through...

He reaches the town. Tamaraght does have a bit more upscale feel. Folks here seem to have a good bit more money to put into fixing their houses. But it's not “dead town” of vacation houses. It's very much alive.

you follow a footpath back down the mountainside to a small market/restaurant area with sort of a blend of basic services catering to the locals and a few upscale joints targeting tourists and rich Agadir folks who want to get out of town. Then, the north end of town is mainly high up on a plateau overlooking the sea.

The Traveler gazes out to the panorama, with Ourir to his left and a stretch of rugged coastline to his right at the base of the mountain. It looks like this was a beautiful stretch of untouched rocky coast that is not being taken over and turned into a hotel resort.

Beyond is a the famous village of Taghazoute

The Traveler has heard of Taghazoute before. It's well known to surfers around the world as a good place to come and catch some waves. The Traveler figures he should take a little side trip that direction and check it out. He heads down the mountain and follows the depressing stretch of road alongside the big construction site, until he reaches Taghazoute

Taghazoute does have nice beach next to it—which must surely be crowded in the summer with the spillover crowd from Agadir. But now it's winter and there are only a few European surfers in wetsuits milling around. Aparently the surf isn't good right now, so they're just kind of standing there, doing nothing.

Looks rather depressing. The Traveler wonders... can't you guys think of other fun things to do around here if you can't surf? I could offer a few suggestions...

The Traveler wanders the tiny squeeze through alleys of the village itself, that abruptly end at the wild sea... plays his songs... then calls it a day.

Day 21: A Magical Swimming Hole

30 kms, February 21, 2013,

Countless times while in Agadir, the Traveler has been asked, “have you visited the Immouzzer Waterfall? You have to go there! The Traveler is kind of embarrassed that during his entire stay in Agadir, he never visited this fairly well known waterfall.

Now... he's finally going to pay a visit to Immouzzer... on foot, making it a part of his hike. It'll be a 2 day hike inland from the coast, so he hopes it'll be worth it.

Its a very different experience traveling along the coast, and going inland. On the coast, you see massive resorts going up... a big stretch of the coast turned into a vacation palace for a Saudi royal... a town that caters to the foreign surfer crowd...

Butwhen the Traveler sees the folks climbing aboard the rickety van heading inland, and he immediately senses a different vibe. All the folks on the van look like hardy country folks, women in their traditional djellabas... men wearing robes and turbans or skullcaps. There are clearly not here to see the sights. This region is their home—and has been for thousands of years. And it looks like it is not an easy life. The Traveler doesn't hear a word of Arabic—only Berber. Just a 10 kilometers out of Agadir and you feel like you’re in a different country.

The Traveler continues on up the dirt road on foot, as it loops around the base of the steep hillside. He is a bit skeptical about this waterfall, considering that there's just a trickle of water in the stream down below...

Along the hillsides, he passes the last neighborhoods of Aorir, as this commuter town of Agadir works its way deeper and deeper into the mountains. Finally, the houses come to an end, and it's just peaceful countryside.

The road starts climbing up into the hills where the Traveler is able to take in the panorama. Here the landscape shifts from a more desert feel to more Mediterranean, with forests of small, scattered trees and bushes. But it's not all just nature here... it's not long and the Traveler reaches the next village, Alma, which is really just a scattering of houses on the hillside.

The road works its way back down to the valley floor, as the valley narrows more and more in to what looks like a rugged gorge up ahead. Here, there's forest of palm trees and two villages—one on the rugged hillside, and one in the middle of the palm forest. “Tamzergout”, is the name, the Traveler is told. This blend of civilization and nature is starting to intrigue the Traveler more—bringing back memories of his hike through Tafraoute and the Anti-Atlas. Here, he finds a shop to stock up on snacks to keep him going.

The scenery starts getting more and more interesting, as the road follows what is now a proper stream deeper and deeper into this gorge. This, the Traveler realizes, is Paradise Valley, where a lot of tour guides bring tourists to from Agadir. But today, the Traveler almost has the place to himself. Most folks passing in vehicles are hardy Berbers heading to and from their villages deeper into the mountains.

The Traveler is enjoying soaking it all in. There are some more interesting rock formations, like a mountainside peppered with mini-caves… and another hill with semi-vertical broken rock slices sandwiched between sections of earth. And one thing the Traveler has seem very little of in Morocco so far: rivers that are clean and deep enough to swim in. It looks like this one is definitely going to fit the bill.

And then… he reaches a spot that is love at first sight. Below a cliff is a short waterfall cascading into a beautiful pool, then a natural waterslide through a beautiful rock formation ending at a much bigger pool.

The Traveler just found a new “Top Ten” swimming hole. It’s February—but there’s no way he's passing up this opportunity. It’s an unforgettable experience—jumping into an isolated, deep pool of and swimming over to the waterfall and feeling it pound on your head. If he were a bit more daring, he could jump off the top of the waterfall. But he is just isn't as courageous about jumping off high places as he used to be.

He tries sliding down the natural waterslide—but it’s not as smooth as it looks… so he walks down to the other pool for another refreshing swim. There he's surprised to find warm water seeping out of the sides of the rocks—apparently a warm water spring. Then he tops off his magical moment with a solitary concert at next to his own personal waterfall.

Yes... “Paradise Valley” is true to its name. Especially when you have it all to yourself.

He finds a trail that climbs up the side of the mountain. This trail looks like it was designed for tourists, not for local goatherders. Here, he comes across a large group of young Europeans, as well as a group of Moroccan tourists. Obviously he's not the only person who knows about this area, though it doesn’t seem like too many climb down the cliff to experience the magical waterfall/waterslide spot…

The path follows the river for ways and there are even a couple of little lean to structures that serve drinks and can cook a tagine for you—except you have to wait for them to make it from scratch, and the Traveler doesn't have that kind of time.

Here the Traveler comes across some fascinating terrain: the whole area seems to have been paved—by nature. The sloping hillside is rock, but almost perfectly flat, with determined plants and trees breaking their way through the cracks. It makes him want to study geology, just so he can understand better terrains like this. Then there are places where there are giant holes, as if the ground just collapsed under this natural pavement.

He reaches a square rock platform rising up, overlooking the valley, with stair leading to the top. It reminds him of the ancient altar on the mountaintop in Petra, Jordan. Here the Traveler kind of doubts this platform has such grand historical significance...

Following a little canal running parallel to the road, high up the hillside which the Traveler follows for a ways, passing isolated houses and clusters of houses. Here there are terraces clearly cut out in the side of the rocky hillsides bit it doesn’t seem they’re being used at the present. The landscape opens up and there’s an impressive view with cliffs, the palm trees below, plus a village with a mosque perched on a hill overlooking the valley: the village of Taghrat.

The Traveler ponders on what life must be like for these local folks. Is this really “Paradise Valley” for them? Living off the land here looks very difficult with little cultivatable land. And the Traveler can see in the peoples' features and expressions that their life is quite challenging. A bit of a jarring contrast, seeing their lives... and the easygoing tourists strolling through...

A Language with no Bad Words

Evening is approaching and the Traveler figure it's best to just catch a ride back to Agadir and come back and pick up where he left off tomorrow. Within minutes a fellow in a private vehicle stops. The Traveler figure, do to the amount of tourism there is here, he should find out how much, if anything he’s thinking of charging. Traditional Moroccan generosity and hospitality can get skewed when there's a lot of tourism and folks waving a lot of money around. The driver says 30 dirhams… the Traveler offers 20… and they’re off…

As they wind down the one lane road, the Traveler can see they driver is getting more and more frustrated. See, when two cars meet on these roads, one of them has to pull off on the bumpy shoulder so the other can pass. The problem is that there’s not clear rule as to who is supposed to pull off. So usually drivers play a game of chicken—they drive at each other at full speed until one of them chickens out at the last minute and pulls off. Yep. It’s about as dangerous as it sounds… And the law of the jungle kind of applies too—smaller cars pull off for bigger cars, as obviously they’ve got more to lose if/when there’s a head on collision.

Well, the driver is clearly getting angrier and angrier as he keeps having to pull off the road. Finally, when a big camping car does even budge from the center, forcing him to go off the road completely, it’s the straw that breaks the camels back.

“Ashkid! Ashkid!” he yells at the foreign driver. “Ashkid” means “come here” in Berber—but it might have some alternate meaning. This guy clearly wants to let off steam in his native language he knows full well the tourist can’t understand.

The foreigner, an older French guys responds with a tirade in French, including a reference to fecal matter.

Then something happens which gives the Traveler an intriguing insight into Moroccan culture… the driver switches to Arabic, responding with another reference to number 2… and then drives off in a huff.

Suddenly the thought hits the Traveler… why did the driver switch to Arabic? He clearly prefers Berber—and normally people express their anger much better in their native tongue. It wasn’t about communication, since the tourist doesn’t understand either language.

The Traveler asks several Moroccans about this later, and they confirm what he suspected: Moroccan Arabic is a language very rich in insulting, dirty and derogatory words… but Berber simply doesn’t have any bad words.

What?! How can a language exist for thousands of years and they not be able to come up with creative and vile ways to insult each other? That’s terrible! Can you imagine the frustration of being angry at someone, but simply not having the vocabulary to shock him with a dirty, vulgar expression?

Or could it be that this says something about their culture. Maybe they just didn’t need to insult each other… traditionally they handled their anger in other ways without needing to make reference to fecal matter, genitals or having sexual relations with one’s mother. Wow. That’s a thought… can people actually do that?!

But of course, now, with the arrival of Arabic, they’ve been blessed with another an alternative: a language with an entire dictionary of dirty words and expressions to be used at the slightest provocation.

Turns out, it was not just religion that was brought here by the Arabs.

The Traveler gets a real chuckle over this, as he heads back to his home in Agadir. Tomorrow: back to the hike again.

Day 22: The Waterfalls

20.3 kms, Feb 20, 2013

The Traveler continues on the road towards Immouzzer Waterfall, enjoying every step of ththe way. At this point, he doesn't really care in if that waterfall is worth a visit or not. Just the journey there has been worth it.

And then, a little ways down the road, is a sign pointing to a footpath that says “Cascade de Tifrit”. OK… no hurry… let’s take our time to enjoy the sights and not just hurry through this valley, he tells himself. So he follows a path through the semi-terraced farm plots, down a sloped, sheer rock surface overlooking the lush palm forest and cliffs beyond… and there it is: Finally, a real waterfall.

There’s not a lot of water, but it’s beautiful, pouring down yet another “rock curtain” into a deep pool. A special experience-- especialy since Tifrit Waterfall comes as a complete surprise, unlike Immouzzer which the Traveler has been hearing about for years! All alone, with a waterfall behind him, the cliffs and palm trees in front, it almost feels like he discovered an unknown waterfall in an isolated valley… The Traveler pulls out his guitar and strums a couple of songs to immortalize the moment.

It looks like the road is going to start doing some switchbacks high up the mountainside. Here, there is also a scattering of houses on the steep hillside that the Traveler decides to count as a “town”: Tifrit. Here, he comes across a water fall that is now dry—but would be spectacular if it had water on in. He imagines water crashing over boulders, and sliding down smooth rock surfaces for hundreds of meters. Even without water, it is still impressive.

The Traveler's guess is that he should be able to find footpaths all the way to the top, bypassing the switchbacks… and sure enough, working his way from house to house, he reaches the top of the canyon.

Reaching the road again, the Traveler gazes back and soaks in the beauty of Paradise Valley below. Now he can appreciate even more how lush and green the valley floor is, in contrast with the rugged, semi-arid mountain sides. Beyond... the Traveler can still see the Atlantic Ocean... to the west... another dirt road snake up and over the mountains to more villages.

He continues on the road, where he finally reaches small sections of flat farmland and small orchards here in the highlands, but it still looks like a tough area for living off the land. This is the commune rural of Aqesri, where there’s a scattering of lonely houses dotting the landscape.

Hiking this region is a different feeling than hiking river valleys where there’s a village every 2 or three kilometres. Here, he's walked for some 14 kilometers and only passed through one village. It’s more a hike of solitude and contemplation than a culture hike immersing yourself in ancient civilization.

Finally he goes around a bend where there’s a canyon and the road does a big loop to get to the other side. Should I try to do a shortcut and climb down it? It looks pretty rugged, but not impossible. He heds to the rim, to assess the challenge.

… Not sure if this is going to be a good idea. It’s got lots of thorn bushes and sheer drops… The Traveler decides to go ahead a pull out his guitar and play a little concert, perched on the rim of the cliff, dedicated to this valley before making his decision.

After a beautiful concert, playing music to nature and the vast emptiness, the Traveler gingerly make his way down the first set of boulders, always making sure that he’ll be able to climb back UP again if he reaches a dead end. He hasn't forgotten the near disasters hes had trying to do this sort of thing before. This time, it’s a challenge, but he never feels in danger as he works his way down layers of squarish rocks to the bottom and up the other side…

He heaves a sign of releaf. He continues as the road climbs higher and higher... through a pine forest—which the Traveler didn't think even existed in this region. Finally, perched on a ridge between two valleys, is the town of Immouzzer. A mini-hub of of civilization hidden away in the mountains that feels very far away from the rest of the world. And today is market day and the village is abuzz with folks coming to buy and to sell. It still has the feel of what a mountain village market must have been like a hundred—or a thousand years ago...

The Traveler could stay here and just soak it in for a while. But he has a mission first: to discover the Immouzzer waterfall. He heads to the edge of the village to where you get a view of the valley to the west, with cliffs rising on both sides, and with a couple of villages far below… a valley that stretches all the way to where you can see the ocean some 40 kilometers away. The Traveler stands there, taking it all in... enjoying the true magic of mountain Morocco.

There’s a pedestrian path, nicely fixed up for the less nimble feet of tourists, taking a short cut down the steep mountainside to the waterfall. Lucky for the Traveler, there are no other tourists around today. The people he passes are the occasional local, heading up to shop at the market. The Traveler greets with a solemn “salaam aleikum”, to make it clear he's not the typical tourist...

He gazes around, soaking in the details. Right in front of him is a cool cliff with cactus clinging to the rocks. He continues on down, passing an occasional local, making his way up to the market for the weekly shopping. At the bottom is a little enclave tucked away that feels like a separate village—but is actually part of Immouzzer.

The Traveler reaches a little stream and a sign that says “you’re passing through private property, please pay 10 dirhams” It sounds fair. Tourists come and spend a lot of money here, but very little of that actually ends up in the pockets of the locals. And the Traveler would much rather pay a set fee than be trailed by a hustler trying to guilt trip him into giving a “tip”… but there’s no one to collect his 10 dirhams, so the Traveler continues on up to the falls, clambering over some giant boulders with a trickle of water dripping down a mossy cliff into a deep blue pool. If it were a bit warmer, this would be a nice place for a swim…

The Traveler reaches a dead end, so he goes back to the official footpath, lined with unattended souvenir booths, and finally to the waterfall itself… which… has almost no water.

Well actually there’s this huge rock curtain, at a slight angle, where the water used to run down, but it turns out, due to an earthquake the stream got rerouted, and comes down a bit to the right down a less spectacular series of falls—not at lot of water though. It is an interesting view, the rock curtain and all, but when you come expecting to see a waterfall, it is a little bit of a let down. But that’s OK, the Traveler reminds himself. Today, it’s not just about the falls, it’s about experiencing this region in its entirety. And Immouzzer in its entirety is an amazing place to discover.

The real adventure whas the whole trip to get here.

Back up the hill, The Traveler takes a shortcut through the donkey parking lot, over the wall straight to the market. it’s noon and this will probably be his last chance to get a meal for a while, so he figures he'd better go for it. He finds a a scruffy looking spot where they serve beans. “15 dirhams” he is told. That's about double the normal price.

“That’s a bit expensive” the Traveler responds.

“These are expensive times,” the fellow answers. The Traveler wonders if the doubled price is because he asked in Arabic instead of Berber.

The Traveler continues on down the road where there is a nicer café which has tagines—and this time the Traveler is given an honest price…

And with this, the Traveler reluctantly decides to bring his hike to a close. He hops in the rickety van back down the mountain... where he will take a collective taxi on up the Atlantic Coast to see what else there is to see.