Last Wednesday, the NSLI group traveled to a town called Ourika. A short drive into the Atlas Mountains, Ourika is a spot frequented by Marrakshis seeking a day out of the hustle of the city.The town is built around a small river bed, and paths climb upwards into the mountains following the path of the stream and it's seven waterfalls.
We began our day by walking up out of the town on a winding path along the riverbed. After a short climb, we reached the first waterfall. An easy walk from town, the pool was packed with Moroccans enjoying the holiday and wading in the frigid waters of the falls. Half of our group stopped at a cafe next to the first pool that clung to the sides of a steep cliff covered in flowering vines. The rest of us continued upwards up a narrow path carved into the side of the ravine. The mountainside was dusty, but down below lush groves of trees and bushes followed the stream cutting through the gorge. As we ascended to each pool, more and more hikers stopped to enjoy the water and picnic on the slopes. By the time we reached the seventh pool, we were only accompanied by a few other Moroccans. Three of the boys and I stripped off a few layers of clothing and ran into the tumbling waters of the waterfall. The water streams down from the snow melt of the high Atlas and was so cold that it knocked my breath out. I stood under the crashing falls and could just make out my friends laughing through the thick sheets of water and the incredible backdrop of the Atlas foothills behind them. Afterwards, we lay on the warm rocks in our wet clothes and soaked in the Moroccan sun. We passed a wonderful day in the ice-cold pools of the waterfall and the restaurants beneath, and I hope to return to Ourika before my time here comes to an end.
On Thursday, something equally as momentous although not quite as quantifiable happened after school in Marrakesh. I have been trying to spend more time outside here, since I often feel that I am wasting away my days here in the beautiful weather sitting inside. After class, I decided to go walk around Gueliz to try to find a post office and I ended up walking through a beautiful park. There is lush green grass, tiled walkways, a small arboretum and flowering trees. In the middle of the park, I stopped to listen and I realized I was in a place completely removed from the hustle of the city. The melodies of birdsongs and the low splashing of the mosaic fountains completely obscured the nearby car horns of Gueliz. I spread out my towel under the shade of a palm tree and decided to study there for the afternoon. The park is next to a high school, and there were groups of students were studying on the grass. Furthermore, since dating is forbidden in Islam I haven't seen many young couples on the street. It was a refreshing change to see boys and girls from the high school sitting on benches together and getting to know each other.
The location was beautiful, but even more important for me was the atmosphere in the park. As an American girl on my own here, I often feel hassled and harassed on the street -- it is rare for me to feel comfortable around strangers here. If you respond with friendliness to any kind of advance from a boy on the street, even a hello, you have to accept that he might start to follow you. Furthermore, if you respond at all, any consequence that occurs from your interactions will be seen by many people here as your fault since you are "playing along". This is an attitude that I have had trouble dealing with in my time here so far. As someone who knows me well put it when I talked with him about this,
"You usually walk down the street smiling and think that it is natural to say good morning to anyone who passes you." Here, I have to walk with headphones in, stare at the horizon or the ground, and take care not to make eye contact with a man on the street so that he will not take any extra interest in me. Although I never feel physically threatened by the men here, there is a pervasive power imbalance between men and women that constantly reminds me that I have to be closed off and cold in public. I've gotten accustomed to flat-out ignoring the men on the street, but in certain situations -- when you can't walk away, in a taxi, or at a cafe in a less threatening atmosphere -- I do need to engage in conversation. In these conversations, I usually pretend that I am from Paris and tell them "Je m'appelle Marie". I then proceed to say "Wi" and "No" to all their questions, using the fact that I honestly have no idea what they are saying to preclude a conversation I shouldn't have. This approach is very much against my nature, and I hate that I have to act this way here.
In the park, some groups of students came up and tried to talk to me. I was initially very cautious because I was afraid of a negative outcome from our interaction, so I introduced myself as Marie. However, as the conversation went on, I realized that this was the first time in Morocco when I didn't feel like I had to be Marie. I hope to frequent this park in the future to study with my American friends and meet more Moroccan students!
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