Authenticity?

I came into the country of Morocco with one huge question bouncing around in my head. It was one I was hoping to resolve, but after leaving Morocco's borders, the question only spawned 83 more: What is authenticity? What is authentic tourism? Is authentic experiences while traveling an individual definition? Is there a universal definition? This all-encompassing question is one I held in my head in the 11 days I was able to explore all Morocco had to offer, and pondered throughout discussions in class, "lecturettes" and personal observations. 

While still pondering this question, I have begun to chip away at it through my own personal ruminations and have begun to see the semblance of an answer emerge. To me, authenticity in tourism and cultural travel has an intense connection with the local people and local populations. I would say my most "authentic" experience in Morocco was at the hammam, where I was surrounded by local Rabat women who use the hammam 1-2 times a week - this is one of their gathering spaces, which back in the day was considered a safe space for women to gather and bond. I felt slightly uncomfortable and as if I had no idea what was going on, which also gave me an inkling of the experience being more "authentic" than others, as I was put out of comfort zone and it was an experience that was completely new to me. Also importantly, the hammam experience we had, inside the walls of the medina, was one which was not catered or developed for tourists - if a host sister had not been there to help coordinate our visit, we would have been very lost in understanding what was going on. This is in sharp contrast to our camel-riding experience, which was amazing, but to me screamed "we are tourists!" and lacked authenticity, as it was an experience specifically developed for tourists.

Authenticity in tourism is a question I am still pondering, and may very well continue to ponder for the duration of my life. However, I feel like I have chipped away at it a little bit more after my Moroccan experience. 

The Call

 In Morocco, like other Muslim majority countries, the call to prayer echoes out through every city, town and village five times a day. Although, to many of us on our trip, it became an unwelcome wakeup call, it is meant to remind everyone to slow down from their busy schedule and dedicate time to their religious practice. Each mosque has their own muezzin or announcer who administers the call. It rings out at the same times every day: before sunrise, midday, mid-afternoon, sunset, and night. In a large city like Rabat, where there are many different mosques, each call will start about five seconds after the other, sounding almost like a round as they bounce off the city walls. 

 The first time I heard the call while in Morocco, I was surprised at how few people I saw entering the mosques. I assumed the call was just like the bells of a church, telling believers it was time to make their way into the sacred space and receive god’s presence. So when I didn’t see anyone stopping to enter, I was taken-aback. My only explanation was that Morocco must be more secular than I thought. I didn’t realize until having an embarrassing cultural encounter, the extent to which the Muslim religion is practiced through daily life.

One night, we were walking back from dinner to our hotel through the medina’s market. Since my weak stomach couldn’t handle Moroccan tap water, I decided it was a good time to buy bottled water. Just moments before, the call to prayer rang out. We commented on how beautiful it sounded bouncing through the skinny streets of the medina. As I reached the counter of a small shop, selling the same type of items you would see in a convenience store, I spotted the shop keeper with his back turned to me. I politely said “salam” or “hello” and waited for him to turn around. Instead of turning, he ignored me and bent down. It looked like he was stacking shelves or taking inventory. A little bit louder this time, I said “SALAM”, hoping he would hear me. I even got one of my classmates to repeat “SALAM” just in case. Then, realizing he was praying, I turned bright red and ran away. I was so embarrassed. I had interrupted his prayer. I learned, however, why there weren’t many people rushing to enter the mosques during the call. Worship is done in a way that allows people to bring prayer and spiritual mindfulness with them in their daily errands. This man was able to pray, given the right to ignore potential customers while at work in order to practice his religion in a public space, something that would never happen in the States. Although, in that moment, I was the epitome of a disruptive tourist, it opened my eyes to the meaning and importance of the call to prayer.   

The Private Space

     I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to understand what exactly it was about our lectures on space, gender, and religion in Morocco that shifted my understanding of those three entities. First, I had thought it was the idea of the private space as the women’s space. But then the popular phrase, “a woman’s place is in the home” kept coming to mind and made me question whether or not the public and private space difference was really a new concept for me or just a familiar idea given a different name. But there was something pivotal in that lecture that must have made the concept of private vs. public space stick out to me. Finally, I figured it out: it was the reframing of the phrase, “a woman’s place traditionally is in the home” to “the private space is traditionally the women dominated space.” For me, this shifted the idea of the private space to “this is where the woman is in charge.”

Courtyard inside Doha’s house. Considered the private space, traditionally this was seen as the women’s space.

For me it reframed the assumption that I think many people in the west have toward women in the Islamic world, that they are seen as inferior to men. However, framing the concepts of public space and private space in a way that they are culturally seen as spaces of equal importance and equal dominance, rather than one being superior over the other, changed this assumption for me.

Walking around Mohammad V street in Rabat Medina near our hotel. Considered the public space, this is traditionally where one would see mainly men. I didn’t have any good photos of this street, but I was able to find this one at http://media.gettyimages.com. 

                

     Of course, typing this now is sending me spiraling to even more questions: Who decided that the public space was for men and the private space was for women? Did women have a say in this decision? Is this distinction really as simple as it sounds? How do women feel about this? Do they like this separation? What about now that more women are moving into the public space? But, regardless, I think the take away from that lecture is the important part: sometimes we look at a culture through the wrong frame and, to us, it looks distorted. A simple shift in your frame can change your perspective. Suddenly, that culture or practice that you didn’t understand makes sense. A simple shift in perspective, or changing your frame can make all the difference!

I’m not sure how I ended up with this picture, but I think this is my and Katie’s host mom and sister walking us home in the rain! Thank you whoever took it! Now, in Morocco, the traditional ideas of public and private space are starting to blur as more and more women are seen in the public space.

Family in Morocco

My host sister pouring water over my head  in order to brush my hair in the Hamam was a very significant moment for me. I realized that as water was gushing over my head and I saw these big eyes of my 10 year old host sister looking back at me smiling, She didn’t know English and I didn’t know much Arabic but the family experience that we shared, language didn’t matter, love and kindness transcends language. That I felt safe in a foreign home because I felt taken care of. My host mother felt responsible to wash and scrub me as if I was her own child. That type of relationship is rare. I was welcomed into their private space. into their sacred space and I felt honored. Witnessing that type of human interactions and loving gestures made everything else in Morocco worth it. My host family set the tone. We shared meals together, watched TV, laughed  and played games together. The mother and host sisters helped me with Arabic homework and I gave them English phrases to learn. It felt very easy and safe in a nervous time for me.

Morocco to me was two things, love and community. I saw more kindness and generosity by strangers and friends on the street than I had in other countries I visited. I believe that rituals such as tea create a space for people to exhibit such behaviors. One of the most significant lectures at CCCL was images and identities that existed in Morocco related to public and private space. In Morocco, it was expressed to us that people presented themselves differently related to type of space surrounded them. The clothes, the relationships and even the way their walked and talked changed, sometimes significantly based on whether a person was in the marketplace (the medina) or in their living room eating breakfast with their family. I actively noticed the type of space that we were in, every new location we visited. I acknowledged that we in a very privileged position to get the opportunity to witness both public and private spaces while traveling in a country. To get to speak with “the grandmas” about their tribal nomadic upbringing and the decisions that they made to leave the lifestyle was a very vulnerable moment. To be allowed to have a sacred tribal initiation ceremony performed on the group and all of the rights and privileges which go along with being a member of the community was incredible.

I fully understand that our field course to Morocco was an very unique experience, without Mokhtar and his relationships to the people, to the land and the way/how he was raised we greatly benefited from. That is a very privileged position. I will take away how peaceful and kind the people treated us. Whether that is because we were tourist or whether that was a true representation of how society actually is, I might never know but I will always have a truly beautiful perspective of Morocco.

Transit Feet

"'First of all,' he said, 'If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view […] until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.'" 

 - Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird*

Arrive in Rabat | Welcome to CCCL | Tour and Tiles of Center for Cross-Cultural Learning (CCCL)

“Feet pictures” are frequently found snapshots among my photos. How or when this trend began, I’m not sure. As a student of tourism, “feet pictures” provide an effective and slightly more discreet method to keep a piece of Place with me. Each picture captures a moment, mostly to mark a meaning for myself. (Although I can’t say I have completely given up on the art of the tourist selfie, yet.)

Beyond convenience, I find a mixture of romanticism, nostalgia, and necessity in slowing down and noticing where my feet are planted in the present moment, especially when in transit. Amidst the state of transit,** “the act or fact of passing across or through, passage from one place to another,” the practice of taking “feet pictures” brings forward a connection to what is and what has been with and in the space. While in Morocco this winter, an added bonus and definite pleasure in taking “feet pictures” came from the plethora of tiles, rugs, stones, and sand in the places our group moved through together.

Riad Means Garden, Heart of Home | Medina Tour | CCCL | "Ethnic Food" Stop (aka McDonald's)

There was no shortage of moments where I found myself amazed by details and story of it all…

What might it have been like to craft and install tiles throughout buildings and medinas? I trace the changing and repeating shapes with my eyes. It begins to feel meditative. Each flooring complements equally beautiful walls, windows, and ceilings. I can almost hear the sounds of footsteps belonging to people gathering for atay as they find relief from travel in homes with similar patterned grounds. I wonder at the maintenance of such floors. Faces of artisans and maids linger still in the corners of my imagination.

Espresso Stop in Ziz Valley | Rissani Tour | Mausoleum of Moulay Li Cherif | Fossils at Itrane Auberge

As my feet move from urban to rural spaces, I begin to consider the tiles as signs of government and French influence more and more. When we reach the desert, my feet stand among fossils and climb up windblown sand grain mounds to take in the sunset among the dunes. Bare toes greet the sand in a new day and I sit with the sounds of morning while pondering the paths nomads, the Amazigh, have taken on this same land for centuries, trusting they would find what they needed along the way. At the Oasis, I find the water meets the sand in a union I have never appreciated quite in this way before. Water is life in all places my feet take me.

Sunset in Mergouza | Idir's  First Desert Hotel | Taouz, Mokhtar's House | Oasis, Community Water Source

I step through spaces once settled and now abandoned while catching a fleeting glimpse of a life that has shaped our teacher, our guide. I ponder the transitions to urbanization and miss the magic of being witness to the vastness of sky lit only by moon and stars each night. I am invited to step into homes and venture through winding alleyways of the souk. I follow paths deemed “tourist routes” as well as those less traveled. I stand in the shoes I came in and imagine walking in the shoes of those around me. After two weeks, I stand for five hours in Rabat’s airport awaiting a plan to transport my feet back across earth and sea to the United States. Standing still in a place of transit ironically seems to be more of a beginning to this journey than an ending.

 En Route to Ouarzazete | Arrival Town, Ouarzazete | Marrakech Tour | Hassan II Mosque

Wherever my feet go, I am. Both like and unlike many before, my steps are those of a tourist, traveler, student, woman, westerner, and more. My two feet ground for a moment of pause before I continue to step through shared places where others have been and will be. Each frame I snap captures a path I first know through my own lens. With each step, I settle into imagining the footsteps of others. The practice helps to root me in two questions: What is the story here? and How am I/we relating with it? The practice of transit feet continues.

---
*The selection of this quote from To Kill a Mockingbird is shared here because it is one of my favorites about empathy building and learning across difference. It reflects my attention to noticing more similarities during my travels in a place deeply "Othered" in the western mind, including the guidebooks and texts we studied during this course.

**Ammer, C. (n.d). Transit. The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms. Retrieved February 14, 2017 from Dictionary.com website http://www.dictionary.com/browse/transit.

Atlas Studios

 A person that stood out to me was the film tour guide at the Atlas Studios in Ouarzazate. To me, this person painted a portrait of Morocco's potential to be at the forefront of best practices of tourism. We were met at the entrance of the secondary gate by our guide. Given that we had already seen some of the props displayed behind the gate, he quickly matched the props to the respective movies in which they were used, most of them famous. I was impressed by his ability to engage the group instantly. He apparently was keeping along with the times, and he knew the types of audiences that he was going to have. We then moved to an interior set in which the movie Kundun was shot. At the set, we were shown posters of other movies that were also shot here and learned about the actors that had worked on the sets. Other notable sets of films were Cleopatra, Game of Thrones, Grand Tour, The Passion of Christ and Babel to name a few. To supplement his narrative of the different sets, he showed us clips of the movies in which we were able to juxtapose between how the set looked in reality vs how it looked in the movies. The extra effort I believe showed his commitment to the satisfaction of the people that came to see the studio. In addition to this, his calculated jokes at different times during the tour were enjoyable and left me in wonder. His last words for us were to keep smiling, take it easy, be lazy, act crazy and don't take yourself too seriously.

Sand Without the Sea

I grew up on the beach and have a lifetime's worth of memories that involve shaking out my shoes or feeling the burn in my calves after a run that wasn't even very long. Walking barefoot along the shore has always grounded me just enough but never completely as each footprint arrives in tandem with a slightly unpredictable shift in space and momentum. My life may have allowed me to know the beach, but I now realize I only ever understood sand as it relates to water. 

Never have I been so awe struck by the morpheus entity that is sand than in the Sahara Desert. The humbling magnitude of an unfathomable amount of tiny grains mounded together not to meet but rather to form an ocean. Sand for me has always been a safe place, a boundary, a border between civilization and the sea, but not in the Sahara. Walking out over the dunes at sunset and sunrise carried a sense of endless mystery I could easily get lost in. The relationship between the elements is so clear here. The dryness of the air, the temperature, the direction of the breeze all clearly palpable. Each individual minuscule piece of sand entirely forgettable on its own here stands as a proud member of a fortress shaped by wind and shifted by time in a way that carves out the the ridgelines and slopes of an unforeseeable future lacking a distinct endpoint. This unbounded terrain demands respect and makes me reflect on how much I don't know. I found myself thinking about how far I was from my comfort zone. How dependent I was on those around me to introduce me to this place that I would have no idea how master on my own. 

 The world is gorgeous. People live in such different ways. I believe that everywhere people are being shaped by their environments and simultaneously contributing to the conditions of these spaces. It's a dance. It thrills me how the human body adapts to demands put upon it and takes the shape of the way in which it is used and what it is exposed to. Natural environments are exactly the same. Change is a constant gradual occurrence and in the Sahara, the sand is so powerful it shows the riddles of life to anyone willing to make the journey to take a look. 

Mint Tea

My first experience with mint tea in Morocco was at the restaurant we visited for our first dinner together. As the man lifted the teapot high above his head and poured it into our cups, I thought it was all just for show. Later on, I learned that while his performance was a little dramatized, lifting the teapot up higher serves a purpose. We all know now that doing this creates bubbles at the surface of the tea. When I inquired about this at Dar Gnaoua in Khamlia, one of our drummer friends told me that it simply isn't tea without the bubbles.

The ritual of having tea with people became for me a sort of comforting constant. In Rabat, whenever our host mother broke out the teapot, we all smiled together because we knew it was something we were all familiar with and enjoyed. I was also quite amazed that hosts never seemed intimidated by the number of guests when it came to preparing tea and snacks to go along with it. Throughout the trip, we were told many times that Moroccan families are very accommodating when it comes to guests and having extended family or friends stay overnight, While we never slept in large numbers in a family home, the act of having tea together was enough to demonstrate the generosity of hosts.

I also remember the first time we visited a cafe after learning how to order coffee and tea in Arabic class. The smile on the waiter's face as some of us stumbled over the words was priceless. I don't think he was laughing at us. I believe it was the typical appreciation that someone shows when another person makes the effort to learn their language.

Something as simple as tea was, therefore, a means of making deeper connections with people. It was a conversation starter, a reason to smile and laugh together, and something we could count on wherever we went.

Cats in Morocco

Rabat Kasbah.

Rabat Kasbah. 

I was not expecting to see so many cats in Morocco, it just was not something that I had considered, but as a cat lover, it was a highlight of the trip! Cats exist pretty much all over Morocco. Despite the impressive cultural and geographical differences across the country, cats were a constant, especially in old areas of cities, trash areas and around ports. Cats were more prevalent in urban areas than in rural but there were fewer cats seen in desert cities. Where cats were though, they seemed to dominate the space or at minimum cohabitate efficiently, they kept to themselves, were somewhat skittish and spent time lounging or foraging in small groups.

Andalusian Gardens of Rabat.

Andalusian Gardens of Rabat.

I noted three main categories of cats: street animals to be ignored or disliked, street animals that are friends to all, and pets. The first category was evident when shop owners would kick the cats away or with cats that were extremely skittish. The second category was overwhelmingly what was seen; shop owners would put out food/water and pet the cats. Tourists would pick up cats and take endless pictures. My host mom in Rabat even gave daily food to a favorite street cat, Mimi. The last category was observed when we would enter a home and cats would be settled in, as well as in a couple hotels where cats were allowed to roam freely and enter guest rooms. It did appear that cats are not a common pet in Morocco but are instead brought up by the community in the streets. All cats regardless of category seemed well fed. Cleanliness did vary though but I did not pity any of the cats which was proof that they are at least cared for at a slightly above bare minimum level.

Life in the Sahara Desert.

Rissani farm life.

Near the Atlantic Ocean of Rabat.

Due to the prevalence and quality health of street cats in Morocco, it is no surprise that tourists were drawn to cats as subjects in pictures or to fulfill a need for cute animal contact. I predominately snapped quick pictures of cats and greeted them with a sweet, "hi kitty". Per recommendations for health reasons, I only pet one cat during my two weeks in Morocco, but came home with a plethora of cute pictures; most are used in this post!

Rabat Park. 

Rabat Kasbah.

Marrakech.

Rabat Andalusian Gardens.

Rabat Kasbah.

Rabat Port - fresh sardines!

Rabat Kasbah. 

Ourzazet.

Marrakech.

Ourzazet.

After contemplating the overpopulation of cats in Morocco, I imagine that this is not seen as a big problem by locals. I am left with questions about if cats are used to attract tourists? If so, I wonder when there will be posters like the doors, of cat scenes. Also, will there be a surge in animal tourism? I would love to know what our travel guides did or did not say about the cat population in Morocco and it would also be interesting to compare the life of street cats in Morocco to other countries. In Latin America, street cats are not so well cared for. This makes me wonder if Arab or Muslim cultures have a special connection or appreciation towards cats? More research will need to be done...

Kitten in Marrakech.

A quick Google search shows I am not alone in my observations of cats in Morocco! 

Enjoy these creative perspectives from other tourists!🐱

Atlantic Ocean of Rabat.

Medina Rooftop in Rabat. 

*http://www.ephemeraanddetritus.com/2012/08/16/the-ridiculously-awesome-cats-who-run-morocco/
*http://www.huffingtonpost.com/valerie-frankel/must-love-cats_b_5250967.html
*https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/the-mangy-cats-of-marrakech-need-names
*http://www.petful.com/animal-welfare/morocco-street-cats/
*http://www.followmefaraway.com/theres-something-cats-morocco/
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beAsQxcR2CE

Medina. 

  Medina.