These past two weekends were spent
in Ifrane, and the juxtaposition of the two weekends is so absurd that I
thought it would be good to put them both together.
Last weekend, for the last weekend
in November, Eli and I decided to go exploring the town we’ve been living in
for the past three months. He knew a path to the park in town from his first
week here, and we followed it past some scenic bridges and various pools of
water. We came upon the park and spent a solid twenty minutes walking through
it.
The park was ridiculously green,
with streams of water cutting through the trees and stone tables and benches,
occasionally running over the stone-and-dirt pathways. This limited our choices
more than once, and we found ourselves being herded by the rogue former
precipitation, moving deeper into the park. After crossing by some large
lake-type places, we made our way towards the exit on the other side. As we did
so, something odd happened. We were on one path, and the exit was tangential to
us. We had two choices – backtrack and follow the path to the exit, or cut
through the glass. We both made the same hesitation, almost stepping to the
grass, before WITHOUT DISCUSSION both silently making our way along the path.
AUI has taught us well – when I get home, I’m afraid I’ll be conditioned not to
walk on the grass. Haha.
After exiting the park, we walked
into town, going to the restaurant that one of the professors who’s lived here
for 18 some-odd years recommended. It’s called La Paix, and we had some delicious
food there. Brian and Halcyon met us there, and we returned to the park for
Brian to show us the spring water he’d found earlier in the year.
Of course, we forgot to account for
the floodwaters. The path to the spring was blocked by water. From our side of
the stream, three guys smoking weed lazily watched our frustrations and
attempted solutions, and on the other side two farmers keeping one eye on their
grazing cattle (yes, cattle!) used their other eye to silently laugh at us
silly white people.
Brian backtracked upstream and found
a narrow enough place to cross (us having all decided that fording the river,
Oregon Trail style, would be bad news). We filled the water bottles we had
brought at the spring, which looked like something from a movie set. Then we
set off to make our way out of there and go to the marche. Unfortunately, once
again water proved to be our foe, and we were stuck again. Eli managed to cross
the river on a precarious rock perched in the middle of the water, only to
start berating us all for not following his perilous path. We scoffed and
stubbornly followed the river upstream, Eli matching our pace on the other
side.
After nearly giving up all hope on
finding a way, we found a multi-jump path. From a tree and the dirt its roots held,
to an island, to a rock on the opposite bank. By juggling our backpacks and
bags (and eventually tossing them to Eli up the hill) we were able to jump
unencumbered. Halcyon went first, and as the shortest also had the hardest time
of it. I over-jumped the first, but managed to reach the rock without trouble.
That night we made egg burgers with
our supplies. Despite cabbage instead of lettuce and dealing with getting
permission for cooking in the kitchen in building 38 (always a hassle), it was
glorious. It was a good weekend.
Fast forward to this most recent
weekend. It started snowing in earnest while we were in History of the Arab
World, between 10 and 11 in the morning. As we left the frigid, unheated
classroom building, people alternated cries of dismay and whoops of joy at the
sight of the flurries. I sought shelter in the café with Eli, where we both
growled angrily about our hatred of snow. Eli, through the course of the
weekend, would switch from saying, “I hate everything” to “I love nothing,”
which was widely regarded as a more positive statement, even though it says
essentially the same thing.
Friday night we spent holed up in 38
again, watching Stargate (hooray!). As Eli and I walked back, it was still
snowing. The next morning, Ignatzia and I woke up only to find that our front
door was COMPLETELY BLOCKED BY SNOW. I’m not talking an inconvenient amount of
snow to walk in. I’m talking human-sized pile of snow. The roof is designed in
such a way that the snow slides off of it, collecting in the ideal location of
RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR. Whoever’s design that was should’ve known better.
But I digress. Ignatzia and I spent
a large portion of the morning carving out an igloo/cave, something that proved
difficult given the fact that neither of us had gloves. We made do, and I must
say it looks fairly impressive. Pictures on Facebook to follow.
At around 3:45, I met Brian, Louise,
Maggie L. and her roommate, Eli, and Halcyon at the globe to walk into the
marche. What normally takes maybe twenty minutes or so turned into an hour-long
journey. As I alternated the lead with Louise, I felt a bit like we were
leading an expedition into some unknown, icy land, and everyone we met was a
comrade in our shared hell. After a stopover at the ATM in town, we threaded
our way through a path made by previous footprints.
We walked through an area of town
lined on both sides by trees, now covered in snow and icicles like precious
jewels. I passed two old women making their casual way on top of the packed
snow, and realized how picturesque the town looked in the snow. In reality,
however, it was miserably cold, and while entertaining, by the time we reached
the marche we were all flat-out exhausted.
Everyone separated to buy their
chosen foodstuffs to cook for the night, and before too long we had reconvened
in the meat aisle. Standing next to the strung-up chickens, we counted heads
and were on our way, with Henry promising to catch up later.
The journey back was in some ways
worse, because by now it was starting to get dark. Eli and Halcyon tried
hitchhiking and were unsuccessful, but in the attempt fell behind. In an effort
to catch up, they took the shortcut through the park, but realized about
halfway through that the path ended in a pile of knee-high snow. We watched
them come lunging through the park, Eli screaming angrily every now and then. After
they made it back onto the road, we took a mini-trek back to our separate dorms
and met up in building 38 once more.
With homemade macaroni and cheese,
eggnog, mashed potatoes, green beans, garlic cheese toast, and Home Alone
playing on a laptop, we managed to while away the hours. It was a great night,
and we had a lot of fun.
After most people had left, Paul,
Maggie, Badr, Nic and I stayed up to watch some entertaining Youtube videos.
All in all it was one of my favorite weekends here, even if we stayed in town
(and also had to stay in town because we were snowed in).
That Sunday I went with Maggie, Eli,
and Taylor into town to do work at the Forest Café and watch all of the
tourists that had suddenly appeared in town. The traffic was backed up halfway
to Fes, and there were people frolicking in the snow like they actually ENJOYED
the stuff.
When I look back and compare the two
weekends it’s crazy to think that they occurred in the same town, and within
days of each other. The weather here goes from one end of the spectrum to the
other, and if you travel even to the nearby city of Fes the frigidity of the
air completely vanishes. I have 17 days left until I get home, and only 16 left
in Morocco. I don’t know what happened to all the time.
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