Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Skhour Rhamna – Settat, Morocco

My Dear Sweet Chile:

We had a beautiful thing. And I will always remember your deep blue lakes and the curves of your . . . land. The times we sweat together until we were exhausted beneath the Austral sun. The soft moonlight. The cheap wine. And all the heavy breathing. 

It was amazing.

While it lasted.

But, sadly, all good things must come to an end. 

No, it’s not just the beauty of Morocco. 

Yes, it’s true – you are much skinnier than her. There is much more though – more than just good looks. 

There’s the amazing cooking. Lamb.Tagines. Amazing breads.

There are the sheep and goat herders. The donkeys. You have to admit that the donkeys are incredible. 

All the different people. Women in burkas. Women in traditional dress. Women in modern dress. Men in traditional dress. Men in fez hats. Men with hoods – looking as wise as Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Yes, you do have the biggest desert in the world – or maybe the driest. I can’t remember now. But, to be honest, it was a little too much for us. Maybe the Sahara is a little bit more approachable . . .

And all that ripio. Really?! Do others find that attractive? It’s a little rough for us. Maybe go for a little smoother look next time . . .

Okay, okay – yes, the mote was incredible. We loved it. But I’m not sure you really loved us. I mean, for the last three weeks we were there I don’t think you made us even one. 

And, really, things got a little rough there at the end. You were so cold to us. Like, really cold. It was almost beyond metaphorical. You were so frigid with us that we had to wear winter parkas, and thick mittens and hats. Even wool booties. I’m just not sure that your iciness is a good way to treat someone who loved you. 

Yes, I know that Morocco is not always this perfect. She can get a little hot in the summer. I’m not saying it’s forever. All I know is that right now – in this moment, as you would say – we are just deeply in love. 

Sincerely,

With Affection,

Regretfully,

John and Diana

I know this letter maybe should have been kept private. But I think the truth was bound to come out sometime. Better to face it up front.

Seriously, we are loving Morocco. 

It’s funny, because half way through our first day of biking in the Kingdom of the West – yesterday – I think we were both thinking that maybe it was a mistake to come here. After we left Marrakech we went through kind of an ugly stretch. Garbage everywhere. Arid. Really not that pretty. And the wind was against us – which, as we’ve discussed, can make even wonderful scenery seem ordinary. 

And we really hadn’t connected with many Moroccans yet. Just kind of felt like a slog . . .

But then, Voila (they speak a lot of French around here . . .), all the magic happened. It’s been nothing but wonderful ever since.

We already talked about the fun interactions with the gas station basement camping and everything. 

Then this morning we head into the next town – the one we were just outside of last night – Skhour Rhamna. We stop to have breakfast. 

Wonderful experience. 

Mint tea with big sugar cubes. Let me just tell you that any country that puts such an emphasis on sweet tea is on my good list. And Diana loves all the fresh mint. (If you ever want to get on Diana’s good side give her some fresh mint. I mean, pretty much any herb in copious amounts will make Diana happy – but fresh mint – that is pretty much the gold standard. Okay, rosemary is also right up there. But you get the idea . . .). 

Combine the sugar cubes and the mint and you end up with one very happy couple. 

And don’t forget the whole tea pouring thing. I guess Moroccans are big into the idea that if you like someone, or hold them in high esteem, you pour the tea from like two feet above the tea cup. So fun to put this idea into practice. That’s the kind of fun tradition that makes a country great!

Now add in the phyllo dough layer bread stuff they make fresh for you. Layers of butter or oil or whatever. So good. 

And eggs cooked to perfection with a little bit of cumin on top. 

All made right before your eyes by sweet little old women (all of whom seem to inexplicably fall in love with Diana – more on that later . . .)

Now that’s a good breakfast!

Okay, so now it’s after breakfast and we’re biking along on a quaint little road with almost no traffic – except the occasional donkey-driven cart – when a young man next to a car on the other side of the street yells out:

”Where are you from?”

The question itself is, of course, not that remarkable. But the fact that the question is in English is pretty impressive. After all, there is about .0003% English spoken around here. 

“America,” I say, and immediately start to slow down and go back. 

Which almost causes Diana to collide with me. Because this is, again, my special role on this trip. Diana? If it was up to her she would just zoom by. Not because she doesn’t care. But because her default mode is New York Forward – meaning that from an early age she learned not to be bothered by those that would slow her down – she would just ride right by. 

My default? As Diana will tell you, it’s more like Easily Distracted. Now, occasionally, or even frequently, this gets me in trouble. 

“Why are we stopping to look at a squirrel?” Diana disdainfully asks me. 

“Well, I thought it might be a lion,” I stammer.

But sometimes my stops are completely justified.

Like today’s!

We circle back and there is a family of four – two parents, about our age, and two kids – the young man who yelled, and a young woman – probably about the same age as our kids – early-20s. 

Turns out the young man only knows limited English. But his sister, Essaya (sp?), speaks our language perfectly, and she is smart as a whip. 

Such a lovely family. They live in Casablanca and they are heading to Marrakech on a one-week vacation. We talk back and forth on what we should do in Casablanca, what we are doing on bicycles, and stuff like that. They have just purchased some carrots and they give us some – which I’m pretty happy about – because I’m always to eat a carrot – or, really, just about anything . . . Then we take pictures together and tell them that if they ever come to America they should stay with us. 

Then the mother says something to Essaya. 

“My Mom would like to take a picture just with you,” she says to Diana. 

They put their arms around each other and smile at the camera. And then the Mom starts to kiss Diana. 

I don’t know how Diana makes these almost instant connections. 

It’s amazing. It’s like these two are long, lost sisters or something . . .

So nice. These are the type of moments that make the whole trip worth it . . .

Now, Diana is mad because she thinks we shouldn’t publish that photo because she was in a sports bra. But it clearly didn’t bother Essaya’s family. And certainly not her Mom. 

So she is overruled. 

Skip an hour or so forward . . .

Now we’re stopping for tea – because we learned our lesson yesterday and we’re not stopping too early for lunch again. Did I mention how much I love the whole tea traditions around here? Awesome! And more of that phyllo dough bread. So good. So civilized. So yummy.

Then a nice ride to Skhour Rhamna – punctuated by a quick stop to talk to some beekeeping people – and an afternoon and evening walking around see this bustling city. 

More amazing food. Lamb chops chopped and cooked right in front of you . . . (Super inexpensive by the way.) More incredibly friendly and helpful people. And everyone is excited to see Diana.  I don’t know what it is – but it’s like I’m walking around with a celebrity. Some of it is probably the whole Chinese thing – but I swear it goes beyond that . . . So weird. I think I’m going to start charging for autographs – or maybe I’ll charge for a photograph with Diana. 

We could be rich . . .

Seriously, there is something so fun about finding places like this – where it feels like the whole world has not already discovered it all before we arrived. Everyone in the town is excited to see us. And they don’t just see us as walking dollar signs. That’s the great thing about bike touring. You are pretty much forced to spend time in all the places between the places you should go – places that are, inevitably, more populated by tourists . . .

Anyway, this was kind of the definition of a good day. 

Tomorrow – on to Casablanca. Hard to say what that will be like – but supposed to be nice, with the sea right there and a mosque that non-Muslims can go in – which is not at all normally the case . . .

I guess we have to cover our knees and our shoulders. So no sports bra for Diana. I think we’ll be good . . . We can just wear some of the arctic gear leftover from Chile and Argentina. We don’t need it anymore now that we’ve moved on from that relationship . . .