Morocco: Rabat (DAY TWO)

Poverty tourism at it's finest as the group is given a drive by tour of the slums in Salé (town right next to Rabat). These slums seemed practically identical to the ones I saw in Nicaragua a year ago... However, this time it made me think... Imagine having tour groups take pictures of you playing in your "backyard" as a child or of your mother cooking on her grill. While I am guilty of doing this as well, I would love to understand how they perceive us, the travelers behind the expensive lenses. We then visited a foundation called Hope for Salé where we discussed cultural differences and misconceptions with local students our age. Before my trip to Morocco I knew close to nothing about the country, let alone Muslim religion. Thus, it was not only informative but beyond fascinating to hear their opinions of 9/11, Bin Laden, and Bush.

Afterwards, we visited ancient Roman ruins. This gave me a lot of Machu Picchu nostalgia. It seems like everywhere I go and everything I do comes full circle as memories from South America fill my mind. Just yesterday friends and I went on the Teleférico in Madrid. After doing the same thing in Ecuador over a completely different landscape I realized just how different my two homes really are. Unfortunately, the tour guide in the Ruins spoke horrible English so I walked around and enjoyed the setting without understanding it's significance. For lunch we returned home and ate traditional Moroccan couscous.

Tebowing the Roman Ruins... obviously...

During the afternoon we paired up with local students and walked around Rabat. We learned so much about their every day lives, their perceptions of Americans before and after, and their faith. On our way back from a cafe a girl in our group was pickpocketed without realizing. Thankfully, one of the Moroccan boys with us saw it happen and snatched the camera back before the culprit could take off. When he returned the camera to her as we were all walking together through the busy Rabat marketplace, we were all confused and amazed. Another thing that was incredible to me is the fact that everyone we met in Morocco spoke at least 3 languages, most of them 4/5. Even more interesting is the fact that they spoke English fluently solely because of American television and music... they had never taken a class in their lives.

Couscous

Moroccan friends! Dude on the left is so excited.

When we returned home the group had a discussion with a Fulbright student living in Rabat and a Peace Corps volunteer based in the mountains. Both of these programs deeply interest me after college so it was interesting to hear their accounts, their highs and lows, and their lifestyle while abroad. The PCV told us a story about a woman having to go down a Moroccan hill while her baby was half way out so she could find a doctor and another about a woman who had 15 babies. I am not even sure what else to say about that.

HAMMAMS!!!!! The best part of the entire Moroccan Exchange program. In Morocco it is not common to have showers in your home. Rather, Moroccans of all ages flock to the public bath houses known as Hammans. Here men and women separate into little tiled rooms with buckets, soap that looks like buggers, and a scrubber. The best 50 dirham ($7) I have ever spent in my life went to the 40 year old 7-month pregnant Moroccan lady with inch long nipples who scrubbed me down, head-to-toe, and washed my hair. Yes, there we were, 6 Boston College ladies, topless in a public bathhouse in Rabat, Morocco. Nipples McGee instructed me to lay flat across the tiles and then proceeded to scrub my body so hard that strips of dead skin were falling off of me. She even pulled my undies down and scrubbed my tush and told me I was "sexy" (true story haha). I then turned over and the process continued, followed by a nice hair washing. I don't know which part of this experience was better, feeling her baby against my naked body or her colossal nipples while she scrubbed me down. Needless to say, it was a once in a lifetime experience.