Morocco has been an intense experience for me. Aside from being an unforgettable journey from a travel point of view, it has given me the opportunity to examine myself and let me realize what I am capable of, as far as body and mind go, what’s important to me, and what is not. It has confirmed a few things, asked new questions, and given me many things to reflect on.

First, Morocco is a beautiful country from both a geographic and cultural standpoint. It isn’t very large — you can drive across most of it in a day or two — but during that time you will travel from coastal areas, like Essaouira in the north west, mountainous areas in the high Atlas region, and remote desert areas to the south east, like Merzouga. The climate can go from cool and breezy on the coast, to blazing hot in the desert (it IS the Sahara after all), to downright nippy at night in the Atlas mountains. I think the only other country that I’ve heard of like this is New Zealand. And since I haven’t been there yet, I can’t comment on it more than I have.

I visited Morocco during Ramadan. I am in awe that a country, an ENTIRE country, can basically turn itself up on its head for a whole month, while people fast from sunrise to sunset, eat after dark (and smoke ‘em if they got ‘em and they certainly got ‘em), party until dawn, and then sleep. A whole month. There is no kool-aid to drink here. You ARE the kool-aid. Everyone plays. At the very least, those locals who don’t fast don’t eat in public. I did not see a single Moroccan eating, drinking or smoking during the day throughout the whole trip. To be that devoted to a religion, especially in a day and age when it seems that most cultures that have organized religions are either losing members of the congregation, or people merely pay lip service on big holidays, is very refreshing. Even for me, and I don’t consider myself especially religious.

There are probably downsides. I suppose it’d be very hard to be a native who wasn’t Muslim and didn’t want to partake in Ramadan. I saw a few tourists getting serious stink-eye from locals, or even yelled at by folks who were obviously upset that Westerners were being rude and eating and drinking in front of them. I’ve also heard that as the days wear on, folks can get mighty grumpy near the end of the day, before the fast breaks at sunset. Being a guy who needs to eat basically all the time, I can totally relate.

A post here wouldn’t be complete without some mention of the food. In a word, quite tasty. I suspect that most of the restaurants and riads that I saw had watered down the dishes to cater to a Western palate, and I can understand why. It was really only near the end of the trip that I got to venture outside of the world of couscous and tagines, and had the chance to taste some more authentic dishes. Many traditional dishes are prepared with meats and meat-based stocks, so those were obviously off the vegan menu, but I was floored by the variety of vegetable dishes, salads, stews, and breads that were available. I had this most incredible olive tagine one night, where olives were stewed with caramelized onions, raisins, and almonds. Yeap. Hot olives. Olives grow everywhere in Morocco, and while olive oil is certainly a product of that industry, I had the chance to both eat and experiment with Argan oil, from the Argan tree, which is really only found in the South West of the country. Women form cooperatives where they harvest the nuts, remove the pulp from around the center argan pit, smash it open and then grind it by hand. It’s freaking hard work. The oil is incredibly light and goes well on just about any sort of salad you’d want.

Anyway, there are photos coming at some point. And recipes. I need to think about the dishes I had and try to duplicate them a few times before I am comfortable enough with putting them up. Soon.