Goats Gone Wild

Guardian of the motor bike

Marrakech is working hard to spruce itself up for COP22, the UN Climate Change Conference, that will be hosted here next week. Flags are popping up all over the city. Gardens are being groomed, trash is being raked from the bushes, streets are being swept, everything is getting a fresh coat of paint, and there are even police officers controlling the wild traffic. It’s festive, and there is a sense of excitement in the air for the international visitors who will all begin arriving in just a few days.  It will be interesting to see how the city settles back into a sense of routine after the celebration ends and everyone goes home.

And, of course, we are watching another circus from afar – the one unfolding in the United States leading up to election day. Both of these events will factor into my job over the next two weeks with environmental events on the local calendar and a U.S. Election streaming party planned for Tuesday night at the university. My job there will be to educate attendees about the U.S. election process, in general, and specifically about how the electoral college works. You can bet that I will be spending the next three days trying to figure that out myself. Stay tuned for pictures of me with life-sized cutouts of both candidates (in my neutral job role), but know that inside this Vermont girl’s feelin' the Bern. The rebel in me is considering a subtle tip of the hat to my man – maybe a white, crazy-haired wig or just a quick fly-by from a pigeon. Sigh.

In the meantime, we have been busy soaking up Morocco around my class schedule. The beauty of being in Marrakech is that, with a free few hours, we can head out and visit one of the many sights, parks, or shopping areas that we have yet to see. It’s like living in NYC. There’s always something more to see and do, and having the time to actually do it is a gift. I’m still pinching myself every day.

This week we visited the Quranic School, Ali ben Youssef Medersa, which was built in the 14^th century but remains a beautiful monument to Islamic art. Brianna imagined herself a student in the cell-like dorm rooms, and we took advantage of the photo opportunities that the beautiful tile-work and plaster provided.

The Spice Market Square

Halloween takes Marrakech by storm.

Next came Halloween and the unexpected enthusiasm of Marrakchis for the occasion. Brianna has joined a local community service club, which was putting on a Halloween Party at a local English language school. Sporting rose-colored glasses and a scarf tied around her head hippie-style, she oozed 60’s flower-child peace, love, and happiness. Assigned to the face painting crew, she arrived early to help set up for the party.  The festivities for all ages were set to begin at 6:30 p.m., so Andy and I strolled over at 7:00 to check things out in hopes of getting some pictures. We arrived to find a street packed with over 1000 students who had been closed out of the over-flowing party.

Face-painted and costumed kids pressed at the
gate and walls of the school in hopes of coercing someone into letting them inside. We stood at a distance and just watched the scene unfold – hoping the gate would hold and no one would decide to scale the wall. Eventually the police arrived with flashing lights and whistles to clear the street and send everyone away. Disappointed princesses and superheroes spread out onto Marrakech’s city streets to spook the rest of the unsuspecting population. In the meantime, oblivious to the excitement on the street, Brianna painted and painted until the party finally ended inside and she was exhausted. It was a Halloween to remember for all of us.

After tying myself to a chair to get my planning done for the week, we took off for an overnight adventure to the coastal city of Agadir. Brianna was ready for some much-anticipated beach time, so we headed for the Atlantic coast. Despite the fact that it has been extremely hot in Marrakech and we have a small pool in our apartment building, we have never seen a soul swimming in it. Reluctant to be “those American neighbors” who shock the hood with their scanty bathing suits, we have been waiting to see what proper bathing suit etiquette is. Alas, the pool remains empty, and, as of late, it has gone rather green. So, the beach escape was particularly alluring with the prospect of anonymous sun-bathing in a bathing suit far from judging eyes.

Agadir Promenade

The drive to Agadir confirmed that most of Morocoo is, indeed, a desert. The landscape alternated between sandy yellow and dark red dirt. It was pretty in a southwestern way. We skirted the Anti Atlas mountains as we headed south west and eventually popped out into the industrial coastal city of Agadir. The entire city has been rebuilt since 1960 when it crumbled in an earthquake, making it a slice of Morocco that looks nothing like Morocco. The buildings were white and uniform looking. The coast is populated by resorts on a beautiful promenade which ends in an industrial port. Agadir is a popular beach destination on the Atlantic because it sits out of the perpetual wind that churns up surf and sand along much of the coast. We enjoyed two days with beach time in bathing suits – although it still wasn’t completely comfortable. We sought interior chairs and umbrellas, in a bank of sunbathing chairs, in order to provide some sense of “cover.” The beach scene was a mix of tourists in bathing suits and local women fully covered. For me the biggest treat was finding that the morning brought hundreds of exercisers to the promenade and beach. For the first time in over a month, I felt like just one of the crowd as I ran along the promenade in the wind. Instead of worrying about my short sleeves and getting hit by a car, I got to just relax and do my thing. It was a welcome change.

Agadir's Beachside Promenade

Agadir's cats sense a weak soul and try their best to get adopted.

We visited the kasbah at the top of the hill overlooking the city and appreciated the sunset over the Atlantic – an odd perspective when you come from New England. The kasbah is crumbling – a result of both its age and the earthquake, but it seemed to be a popular hangout for young Moroccan couples and camel owners hoping visitors would opt for a romantic camel ride. Despite its rundown state, it did provide a pretty perspective of the city with all of its night lights glowing down below.

Rather than drive straight back to Marrakech, we headed north along the coast in search of Morocco’s famed argan cooperatives and the goats that process the seeds. We were treated to some beautiful views of surf-side villages and sand dunes meeting the water along the way.

The desert meets the Atlantic.

We eventually turned inland toward T’manar in search of the argan region and its celebrated wrinkly trees that produce the fruit needed for argan oil. The landscape eventually changed from palm trees to argan trees spread about the dry and rocky countryside. They appeared spindly and grayish-green. We knew we had truly arrived when we rounded a bend (on a very bendy mountain road) and were greeted by a tree teeming with dozens of goats up high in the branches. Yes, goats in trees! We had seen it on a postcard but hadn’t quite believed it. But, there they were, standing atop trees, munching happily on the dry leaves and pointy thorns. It was an odd sight. The next time we came upon a loaded tree we stopped the car and got out and took pictures. The friendly goat shepherd was all too happy to accept a few dirhams in exchange for lots of photo opportunities with his herd.

Goats in the argan trees

As we got closer to the city of Essaouira, the road was dotted with argan cooperatives where women grind the argan seeds into argan oil which can be used for both cooking and cosmetic purposes. We stopped at one to get our argan education and left with a supply of oil and soap to keep us sleek and smooth for a little while (as well as another dose of kitten love for Brianna).


Satisfied in our argan mission, we pointed the car back toward Marrakech, and, once again, Andy practiced the fine art of dodging dark objects on the road as we negotiated the final miles home. Although there were fewer donkeys and horses than we had seen the previous week on our return from the mountains, there was no shortage of motorbikes without lights and darkly-dressed cyclists and walkers darting into traffic to keep things interesting. Safely back in Marrakesh, we are ready to see what the next week brings.

Breaking the argan nut

Removing the argan seed

One more goat pic, because they are just so ridiculous!