On the Road with Julie

We loved our Riad, Riad Eljazouli, that we stayed at in the Medina.

Even more so, as mentioned in an earlier post , we loved our warm hosts that treated us like family. 

On Sunday, after a lovely day resting in our Riad, Ryan writing and me catching up on my blog posts for Spain, we headed out to wander the Medina.

Wow. Wow. And, also, wow.

I don’t think I have ever been in an environment with more sensory stimulation than the winding, narrow pathways of the Medina.  As you follow the twists and turns, you become part of a vibrant sea of color and sound that surrounds you in every possible way. The streets are lined with vendors of every different type, each stuffed to the brim – the stalls, overflowing out into the edges of the streets with a cornucopia of goods of every color and every type. 

It is a feast for the eyes like none I have ever experienced. 

Some stalls are filled with gorgeous art, some with piles of spices somehow stacked in perfect pyramids of color. There are handmade metallic lamps, hand-carved wooden chess sets, jewelry, clothing, delicious sweet treats, raw meats, cooked meats and piles of oranges, pomegranates, dates and everything else you could imagine. 

The list goes on and on. 

And then it goes on some more. 

As Ryan and I let the sea of movement in these tiny streets move us along with its slow but steady flow, we both found ourselves agog trying to figure out just how on earth all of these items got made in such quantity and crammed into such a perfectly compact arrangement inside the heights and depths of these winding ancient streets. To us, it was a marvel. 

And, it wasn’t just the variety of things, it wasn’t just the vibrant colors of them all, it was how they filled up every nook and cranny of the space allotted for them.

And the sensory stimulation and beauty of the goods that filled every ounce of fillable space speaks nothing of the ornate decor of every wall, overhang, door or structure – each of which carried its beauty in a way that reminds you how much time has passed within these walls. In all of the miles we crossed in Morocco, I don’t think I once saw a door that didn’t have anything to say – and I don’t think I ever saw two that said the same thing.

And, the beauty of this place doesn’t come from its perfection. Things are not perfectly clean or perfectly organized. But, somehow, they perfectly work together and stay living, breathing and moving in a constant resistance to the interventions of time. There is a dirtiness that underlies the space. But it is not a dirtiness that detracts from the beauty. In some ways, it is an integral part of it. Some of the crumbling, dirty parts feel more like a form of raw honesty – an honest picture of what life looks like when you let go of any attempt to convene or control it. 

No, the beauty here does not come from it being specifically clean or new. It is loud and effusive. It is worn and vibrant. It is ornate and creative. It is raw and kinetic. Part of the beauty comes from its insistence that you become more than just an observer. You must be a participant. The odors, the aromas, the sounds, the sights – they all insist on taking up residence inside your senses and pulling you into being a part of it too. I could imagine it easily overwhelming the senses or sensibilities of anyone used to a more controlled environment. But, if you are down for the ride – it is absolutely thrilling and irrefutably enriching. 

Despite the constant temptations to purchase trinkets or large works of art to attempt to bring some shred of this vibrance home with us, traveling lightly on this trip is a wonderful prophylactic for such excesses. There just isn’t room in the suitcase. So, despite the temptations, we walked past each stall without breaking the seal of our closed wallets. That is, until I saw a beautiful pair of shining blue stone dangly earrings. 

Before long, I found myself in another situation where a local seemed eager to get an embrace and a photo. And, I found myself, once again, enamored with these warm people. Was Abdul being sincere with all of his warmth and compliments? Or was he just layering on the charm as a smart salesman able to identify weakness in a customer entering his stall that is easily softened by flattery? Perhaps it was a delightful mix of both. He showered me with compliments for my French, how good my French accent was to him and his insistence that I had “bonheur dans mes yeux”. If this was all just a tactic to keep me from haggling on price, it worked like a charm.  He quoted us the “family price” because of how that happiness that I had in my eyes, well, that made us family. “Si vous êtes contente, je suis content.” he repeated over and over. He even pulled out a photo album of his family from home, insisting that he felt like family with me. He was so enthusiastic about the happiness in my eyes, he asked if we could take a picture together so he could be permanently recorded along side it. Whether it was a sales strategy, an authentic connection, or a little bit of both, Abdul had me hook line and sinker, and the feeling of warm welcome in Morocco was increasing by the minute. And, not to mention, I absolutely love my new earrings!

Yes, wandering through the streets of the Medina, and, everywhere we found ourselves in Morocco, as a matter of fact, there was a raw beauty to enjoy. 

Speaking of rawness and wandering through streets, in Morocco, there are cats everywhere. And dogs too. They are just a part of the ecosystem in which people live. Each, masters of their own destiny, with the benefits and the challenges that come with that. The dogs here are much more relaxed than the ones at home that know who their masters are and where they are getting three square meals a day.

Returning to the Medina, the feeling of walking around is absolutely kinetic. When you step onto one of the main roads that twist through the maze of the Medina, you are aware that you are part of a moving stream whose rules are largely intuitive and demand a full presence of attention. It is a delightfully functional chaos and you realize that your role in it is to be part of that flow and to make sure you contribute to its function and, at the very least, to not get in its way. As you walk down the street, you blend in and out with cars and motorcycles and other pedestrians, all finding the next open space to occupy without running into or over any of the other moving participants. Even when you are on the pedestrian pathways where no cars would fit, motorcycles are constantly weaving in and out of the moving crowds. And, somehow, it all works. It all works just fine. Better than just fine. It feels like it should be a miracle that it works, but the experience of it feels too easy and natural to require a miracle. And part of that wonderful kinetic feeling is knowing that you have to stay on your toes, or the movement could easily overtake you. You don’t get to take anything for granted. 

Ryan and I discussed a hypothetical town hall meeting run by the folks back home in this setting. We could imagine any number of concerned citizens raising any number of valid points of contention. “But – fill in the blank – is dangerous.” And we both imagined the reply. “Yea. So? Be careful, then.” There is something refreshing and relaxing about not having everything perfectly taken care of and needing to rely on your own wits and responsibility as a participant in the chaos of life that is much more present here than at home.

It’s all part of the feeling of being part of a moving sea of life in ways that I am more accustomed to being sheltered from – and, there is a tremendous jolt of aliveness that is available in that. I already felt plenty alive before arriving in Morocco, but I feel a new level in it for having been here.

Now, there is romance in anything if you get to do it for a short enough time. No matter how much I enjoyed this kinetic rawness, after four or five days, I found myself looking forward to the comforts that come with relaxing into a setting that has anticipated much for you, where the logistics operate with a higher value for efficiency and where, a part of the beauty of a place comes from its cleanliness. There are tradeoffs to everything in life. For me, the most enriching way to live is to at least get a chance to taste life where a different set of tradeoffs are getting chosen. Because, then, I get to carry them all with me and be the better for it.

While there were things I found myself ready to return to after 5 days, they did not overcome my reticence to leave. The Medina in Marrakech is a special place, and I’m really happy I got to be pulled along by the stream of it for a time.