Asilah

My last weekend to travel in Morocco was spent in the coastal town of Asilah situated on the Mediterranean Sea an hour east of Tangier. This was the last weekend a lot of us from ALIF would have to hang out together, so we decided to all spend a relaxing few days at the beach. On Friday morning our group of fifteen boarded the train to Asilah for our three days away from the world. We friends and classmates from Florida, Harvard, Virginia, England, myself from Texas and our good friend Mohammed. I like the group. We all got along well and were all good friends. A couple hours journey landed us in the small railway stop of Sidi Kacem. We would wait in the city that was essentially supported by the large oil refinery and chemical plant across from the train station. Our final train to Asilah arrived after an hour's wait and we took off once again for the coast. Jumping out the door and onto the station platform my face was met by a refreshing gust of cool, salty wind. Across the road from the station lay an expanse of sand and beyond it was the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The train station was on the edge of the city and it would be a half hour walk past the beach front hotels and restaurants to the walls of the medina. Our plan for the weekend was to find a house or apartment to rent since we would all be together and it would hopefully be cheaper than a hotel. It was early afternoon when we entered the medina of Asilah under a cloudless, blue sky. the walls surrounding the old city were of ancient stone and had old fortifications every so often for defense. Upon walking through the main gate into the city the street opened up into a wide street leading to a small square with a mosque, kasbah, and a cafe. Everyone was hungry so we headed for the cafe to eat lunch. During our meal Mohammed took off to see if he could find us a place to stay in the medina. After twenty minutes or so he returned smiling saying he found something that he thought we would like. Our crew finished lunch and walked a few minutes into the medina to what would be our apartment for the nest couple days. The medina in Asilah was bright and had a relaxing air about it. The white walls trimmed in ocean blue gave a vibrant coastal atmosphere beneath the spotless aqua sky. We had rented two apartments for the weekend. One on the first floor of our building and the second on the third floor. Each had a kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, and living area. We also had our own roof, just like every Moroccan housing unit. The place was perfect and only cost each person less than twenty US dollars for the weekend. After settling in everyone was eager to get a taste of the beach that afternoon before night came. The air was warm but offset by a cool breeze that blew off the water. This was my first time to a beach in years, if you exclude Rabat. The sand and the water on the Mediterranean was much better than anything on the Gulf of Mexico. Following the beach was dinner beneath the old city walls, and then rest for our day at Paradise Beach on Saturday.
We took the morning slow and gathered everyone together after to breakfast to catch transportation to the beach. Paradise beach was a few kilometers past the southern edge of Asilah. It would be too far to walk and we needed something with wheels to get us there. Our wheels for the trip happened to be horse-powered. One horse power that is. We rounded up three flat-topped carts pulled by horses to take us to the beach. Five of us piled onto what was nothing more than a flat wooden cart covered by a thin rug. No sides, nothing to hold onto. I hopped on with my feet dangling over the edge and our small caravan took off for the beach. Exiting the paved city streets into the outskirts of town began our wilder portion of the ride. The poorer sections of the the city and areas under construction made for a bumpy and very uneven road. Once past all this we reached the smooth asphalt highway that would take us the next few kilometers to the beach. The ride was much smoother, but that was the only improvement. Once on open road the horse took off and accelerated to a more than comfortable pace with a cart full of people in tow. Our cart was probably speeding along at around 40 mph while being passed by trucks and cars going 60 mph. I couldn't help but think about what would happen if the right screw came undone on our jalopy of a horse-cart. Soon enough we turned onto a dirt road from which I could now see the Mediterranean below us about a kilometer away. As we rolled through the pastel colored landscape towards the turquoise expanse of water I could have been anywhere in Spain, southern France, or italy. We finally were dropped off and descended the cliffs to the sand below. Paradise beach was a large expanse of pristine sand met by a foaming blue sea. This now topped my list of nicest beaches I had visited. It was not crowded and was secluded from any hints of civilization beyond the cliffs behind us. My afternoon was an enjoyable one filled with soccer, swimming, and once again sunburns. I managed to get sunburned everywhere I normally do not. Which may or may not be attributed to my apathy with sunscreen. Our afternoon was followed by a dinner at the top of the cliffs overlooking the water. We finished off the day with cool drinks and fish tajine.
When we returned to the city a few of us accompanied by Mohammed decided to go to the hammam to wash. A hammam is an Arabic bathhouse. This was my first hammam trip and was interested to experience a new part of Arab and Moroccan culture. You walk in a stow everything but your shorts and soap on a shelf in what would be considered the hammam lobby. From there we entered into the hammam through a door on the far side of the room. I had just entered into a series of three large rooms filled with hot air, steam, and about 200% humidity. In the last tiled room were two basins of water and a stack of buckets. One basin is full of hot water and another full of cold water. We lined up our buckets, two each, and mixed the water until each reached the right temperature. We took our buckets into the middle room and began our washing process. First you rinse off and you then help your friend clean himself. After finishing washing with soap you rinse off and then fill your buckets up at a set of spouts in the room. The last step was to wash yourself and rinse off. By this point I was going back for for buckets of cold water to cool myself off. The heat was relaxing and helped my muscles loosen up but tended to get overbearing after awhile. While in the hammam I noticed Moroccan men stretching and using the heat to work on sore muscles. Usually the stretching was a team event. Some stretched alone, but others worked together inventing painful new ways of contorting each other in the name of feeling better. Once thoroughly cleansed we headed out into the relatively cooler, refreshing air of the lobby to dry off and get dressed. At this point I'm not sure if I had ever felt cleaner in my life. Overall it was a good experience, and I felt quite good once we were done.
That evening we spent our time at a cafe and relaxing on the roof. Before bed, Yamez and myself went out to by supplies for the following morning's breakfast. Almost everyone in our group by this time had become addicted to Malawi. Malawi is a flatbread that I can only best describe as a thick, layered crepe. I thought fried apples sounded like a good companion to the bread and knew Yamez liked to cook as well, so I convinced him to help me. The next morning we woke up as the first morning risers were getting up. I grabbed the three kilo bag of apples out of the fridge and we started slicing. By the time the first batch of apples were cooking in the pot most people were up. The simple mixture of apples, butter, sugar, cinnamon, and heat created an amazing aroma that reminded me of the south and Cracker Barrel. Needless to say the combo of Malawi and fried apples was delicious. Others had bought fruit and juice for breakfast and we had quite the array of foods that morning. After breakfast it was time to pack up and make the walk to the Asilah train station for our eleven o'clock departure. The train ride was warm as usual but wasn't extremely long, as Asilah is only four hours from Fes. For half the train ride the main across the aisle from my row decided to use his cell phone as his own personal juke box, like most Moroccans. For two hours I spent my time listening to a bald Moroccan man with a mustache reminiscent of Saddam Hussein jam out to Celine Dion and Rod Stewart. I had to try not to laugh at first. The sight was a little comical when you watch his unemotional composure coupled with his music selection.

~Andrew