EL SEGUNDO HERALD December 9, 2021 Page 15
Travel from page 2
Western elite to sneer at the devout—as
Americans too often do at their own Southern
faithful—religion gives a society cohesion.
There is no more cohesive culture anywhere
than in the Arab lands, and that alone makes
them worth puzzling over. In-country, you’re
reminded of this five times a day, when the
muezzin comes out of his minaret to summon
the faithful to prayer.
The land here is old in a way that is nearly
incomprehensible for the children of a young
society like America. The simplest of Berber
traditions are rooted too far back in the mists
of history to reliably record an origin. Some
of the grandest civilizations have risen and
fallen into the desert fossils, bleached and
ground bones, and paving stones underneath
your feet. Poets and warriors, scientists and
emperors, pirates and priests, have created,
fought, trampled, and destroyed here. What
you see around you is the complicated, uneven,
and sometimes unfair legacy of those
vanished millions.
Colonialism in these parts arrived in two
distinct phases and flavors. In the first, the
Muslim Moors, as they were then called,
burst northward into Europe and swallowed
up the entire Iberian Peninsula. The Spanish
and later the French returned the favor, and
when the inevitable exit came, managed to
disengage without the clumsiness of the
French Algerian War next door. So, be it
invasion and colonialism, the long Atlantic
Ocean littoral, simple proximity to Europe,
an ancient history of wandering both ways,
or educational and commercial ties, Morocco
has always been both more exotic and more
outward-looking than its desert Arab cousins.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in
the arts and architecture. As in the Christian
world, religious authorities took charge of
nurturing the earliest artistic traditions. The
Qur’an’s prohibition on the representation
of idols, human or otherwise, gave rise to
geometric, arabesque, and calligraphic patterns
of infinite complexity. So when you
walk around the Medina and Kasbah of a
Moroccan city, you will spot the ornate early
glimmerings of the future Spanish architecture—
until you file into a Mosque and find
a vast, empty, contemplative space free of
all those Christian saints and statues glaring
down at your guilty conscience.
As in many European cities, the key historical
influence on residential architecture was
the tax collector. And the result can intimidate
the visitor. Street lights are non-existent in the
Souks and Kasbahs. Serpentine alleyways are
fronted with drab, claustrophobic, mud walls
that discourage official interest. Yet open a
door, and inside you find an immaculate minipalace
with courtyards, fountains, convoluted
living quarters, and ornate bedchambers.
Such palaces, or Riads, when converted into
hotels, are the only places we want to stay.
We are by no means done with traveling
to Morocco. One bucket list has us taking a
train from Paris down to Spanish Seville and
then retracing in reverse the progress of the
ancient Moors—a bus south to Algeciras, a
quick ferry-hop across the Mediterranean to
Spanish Ceuta, another bus to Tangier, an
overnight train south to Fez and Casablanca,
and finally, a (preferably old and rickety)
bus up into the Berber highlands of the
Atlas Mountains.
Along the way, we will hopefully develop
more of a taste for the cuisine. We didn’t miss
the bacon and pork chops, and it might just
be us, but the celebrated local Tajine makes
for a nicer kitchen ornament than a cooking
implement. At least the way we’ve seen it,
Moroccan cuisine lacks the angry kick of its
neighbors in Tunisia and Algeria, much less the
thrills and spills of the Lebanon and Istanbul.
But as we say, it might just be our Asian
and Francophone tastes outing us. In food,
as in everything else about the country, Morocco
isn’t a place you digest in one quick
and easy—or rude and insensitive—bite. As
Mama used to say, you’re your manners and
leave room for seconds and dessert.
Next up: In a Winter Wonderland—
Travel in the Off-Season.
Ben & Glinda Shipley, published writers
and photographers, share their expertise and
experience of their many world travels. If
you have any questions or interest in a particular
subject, please email them at web@
heraldpublications.com. •
Spot the bikini—On the beach at Casablanca. Colors everywhere, except on the orange salesmen themselves.
Marzipan in the Medina—If you love dessert and pistachios, the Souk is your sweet spot. Spot the foreigner—Le Marché aux Épices at midday.
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