Within Rabat, the capital of Morocco, are the remains of an ancient city called Chellah. Originally Phoenician and Carthaginian, then Roman, then Muslim, the ruins are fairly well-preserved. Eventually, the site became a cemetery, or necropolis, as the Muslims favored nearby Salé. The site also contains a lovely botanical garden and has become a favored…
On the fringe of town, lies the twice-weekly open marketplace, called a souk. (Currently, also the location of the somewhat creepy carnival — photo on right). When it is not in operation, it is simply an open area which, at least in the south, is a vast expanse of sand and dust. The souk being…
Gibraltar is an odd place. It’s tiny and most of the space is taken up by a massive rock in the middle of the peninsula, namely the Rock of Gibraltar. “The name Gibraltar is the Spanish derivation of the Arabic name Jabal Ṭāriq (جبل طارق), meaning “Mountain of Tariq” (Wikipedia). It’s a British Overseas Territory,…
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Being the first day out of site in three months, especially in much cooler weather, it was a busy day. After visiting Chellah, Emilio and I took a trip to the Rabat Zoo, better known locally as Jardin Zoologique de Rabat. Despite some reservations I have about zoos in general, it was surprisingly nice. According to…
It’s been nice to have a break and hangout by the seaside in Rabat this week. While I love my town and its people, escaping the heat for a bit is helping to renew my spirit. As volunteers, in order to better assimilate, we were prohibited from leaving our site for three months. Near the…
First, let’s be clear, since I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. There is an extensive coastline along Morocco’s most southern coast that, as of yet, I am not allowed to enter as a current Peace Corps volunteer. I want to visit Dakhla and Laayoune, insha’Allah, but I can’t. Not yet. So, this is…
“Without cafés and newspapers, it would be difficult to travel. A paper printed in our own language, a place to rub shoulders with others in the evenings enable us to imitate the familiar gestures of the man we were at home, who, seen from a distance, seems so much a stranger. For what gives value…
High atop the tallest hill in the Sintra Mountains sits the storybook Pena National Palace. It’s an amazing sight to behold. What used to be the remains of a defunct, simple Hieronymite (followers of Saint Jerome) monastery was severely damaged in the Great Lisbon Earthquake of 1755 and left in disrepair until it was renovated into an elaborately decorated royal palace by…
Reason 404 Why I Love Morocco: I can sit in a crowded taxi with my arm around a strange man and his hand on my knee without all the Western fears of male/male intimacy.