As I boarded the train to Marrakech I found an empty, 6-seat private box and claimed it as my own. Wasn’t long before I was joined by an older woman wearing a djellaba and headscarf. She gave me a quick glance, piled her three bags on floor then balled up into a fetal position and took a nap on the bench. As I watched the … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: God-Willing
In Fez I walked past many late-night hair salons. Every shop I passed was booming with business even when everything else was closed. Men sat in the chairs getting the sort of treatment I remember my grandfathers talking about—straight razors, eyebrow edging, and slaps of aftershave all while discussing the day’s headlines and talking shit. I felt an unearned nostalgia for such an experience and … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Shave and Shine
I woke up tired and sore. I thought of doing some stretches and was reminded of a dream I had during the night: I had just finished a yoga class when a woman with bright yellow eyes asked me if I knew any poses good for low-back pain. After I made a few suggestions, she hugged me, and as our bodies pressed together, my back … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Remembering How to Travel
In Morocco I spoke more Spanish then I ever did on any of my countless trips to Mexico. For some reason it felt easier. I’m not fluent, but I’ve also never allowed myself to really dig into practicing the language because conversations with native speakers make me nervous. But with Moroccans I found myself willing to dive in. I remembered conjugations I hadn’t thought of … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Gato Marroqui
My guide through the Rif Mountains was Habte. For four days I called him Abdi. It wasn’t until our final day together that I realized I had been blowing it. As I watched him write his email in my journal, I said, “Your name is Habte? Not Abdi?” He replied, “Yes, it’s Habte. Tourists have trouble hearing the difference so it’s no big deal.” I … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Berber Hospitality
Since I brought along my sub-zero sleeping bag, I didn’t think sleeping in a hotel without heat would be a big deal. But when I noticed the thick blankets the hotel provided, I was a little concerned. And boy did it got cold. Wicked cold. So cold that when I finally stopped shivering in my cocoon I didn’t want to get out for anything. Not … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Blame it on the Hash
I was alarmed by the chaos of the Tangier bus station. Hawkers stood outside ticket booths, aggressively hollering destinations. I wasn’t sure how to pronounce the city I wanted to go to, Chefchaouen, so I stood in the middle of the ruckus and waited for someone to notice me. It didn’t take long, maybe 45 seconds or so. And soon I was in the window … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Getting Used to the Hustle
“A journey is a person in itself.” – John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley Moroccan men look tough. And though I know this is a ridiculous generalization, fact is I wrote it in my journal. In Tangier I had landed in a place quite unlike anywhere I’ve ever been. I was out of place, high-strung and mysteriously frustrated. But mostly I was confused by the face … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: From Fear to Vulnerability
Before I left for Morocco, my buddy Scotty and I chatted at length about Tangier’s influence on literature and art. Famous Beat writers such as Burroughs, Bowles, Ginsberg, Kerouac and Corso all either visited or resided in Tangier in the late 50s and early 60s. Bowles’ famous work on Tangier’s dark side, Let It Come Down, attracted Burroughs to North Africa – and when Kerouac … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Tangier’s Literary Scene
At some point in my early life, someone told me that the Prudential Insurance brand logo was modeled after the Rock of Gibraltar. Probably my dad. Of course I believed him. Yet last month as scoped intently over a windless and glassy Mediterranean for the jutting monolith, the ferry from Algeciras (Spain) nearly passed the infamous landmark. Had I not overheard a man point it … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Ferry to Africa
Tom Griffen 
You must be logged in to post a comment.