Moroccan, Morroco, Kashbah, Casablanca, Marakesh, Marrakesh, photographic art

Sponsored by Stan Webb.
Baker of Asilah, Morocco, 1999

Working Morocco was a dream come true. Casablanca, Marrakech, Fez, Rabat, names of cities that stir up visions of foreign lands and famous movies. Towards the end of the trip we (the wife and I) headed up to Rabat, just across from Spain. But stories of drug pushers forcing cars off roads to force their wares on you at gunpoint had us head south fast. The first town we hit was Asilah, a quaint seaport. We noticed kids carrying towel shrouded cookie sheets into a home, indicating the town bakery. We surprised him with our presence and after pointing to the camera he shook his head yes, a miracle as most there refused.

Writings on 5/99
More included 7/24/99

Flying from Los Angeles International (LAX) at 8 a.m. on Valerie's birthday, March 27th, was not in the original plans, but when you're at the mercy of the ticket agents to get you the best prices you go with the flow. (About $850 each round trip). After our 5 1/2 hour flight to New York, we settled in for our two hour layover, which took four... our Air Maroc plane was late. The seven hour flight to Casablanca was fine, although finding space for all our equipment after boarding was nigh on impossible. No one, at first, was even around our seats, but somehow all the overheads were already full! Mostly Moroccan nationals were on the flight, and each one, it seemed, had two large carry-ons' the size of a seaman's duffel bag stuffed into the overhead compartments. The flight attendants even turned a bathroom into an extra storage bin by filling it too. It was quite a site.

Such a long series of flights and layovers left us bushed by the time we arrived in Casablanca. After all, it was now the next day at 10 a.m., Moroccan time, and we had not slept. All we wanted to do was to clear customs quickly, find a hotel, and get to bed. To our surprise, the lines at customs quickly filled with Moroccans in both the 'visitors only' and the 'national's only' lines?! As more 'nationals only' lines opened, many moved over to those. By the time we realized there were no rules, line wise, it was too late to get into one of the shorter ones. The reason you'd want to do this soon becomes evident, as each agent takes five minutes to process EACH person. Sometimes the guy is gone for five minutes at a time talking to his buddy in the next booth, and our line did not move at all. It took us over an hour.

Our tour book (Lonely Planet) suggested to catch a train to Casablanca (it's about 30 miles away), as there are no busses, and taxis are expensive. We had a two hour wait, and this allowed us time to check prices on rental cars, which we had heard were expensive. As it wasn't tourist season, I got one down to half price for the month. A Peugeot compact for $850. We reserved it for two days later, as we didn't need one to explore the city.

We changed two hundred dollars cash for two thousand Dirhams, and took our first 'mint tea'. They cram a whole plant into the pot, ummm -man is it tasty. Caught the train into the city, and then a taxi to take us five blocks to a two star hotel which ran just $20 a night. 'Two star' means bathroom with shower. Took about twelve seconds to fall asleep, but as it was about 2 p.m. we had to wake up at 6 or 7 p.m. or we would wake up at midnight and not be able to sleep again.

Having worked Turkey a couple of years earlier, we figured it would be similar in many ways. One was the usual 'call to prayer' every few hours, but they don't seem to 'turn up the volume' as much. It used to be that a real person would call from on top of the mosques, but with the advent of electricity, tape recorders, loud speakers etc., that's history. (In my book, louder is not necessarily better, especially at 4 a.m.).

The next day we worked the 'souk', or the old market, as it is called. They are mostly held within the old fortress walls that were built by the Portuguese, centuries ago. We read that you would be hassled senseless by salespeople, carpet salesmen, guides and 'faux guides'. The first few steps into the market seemed ok, and a gentleman speaking English started walking with us asking lots of questions about us and telling us lots about the market. He hung around even though we tried to ditch him, as we didn't really want to hire a guide, which he seemed to be becoming. After 30 minutes we'd had enough - the light was too bright and the place was mostly closed for 'siesta'. We offered him 20 Dirhams ($2 U.S.) and he said he was insulted at such a small amount and refused it. I knew it was a ploy, said ok and started to walk. He immediately said he'd take it, which he did. To my surprise he then started to cuss us out and threaten our lives if we ever returned! It wasn't the most pleasant start of a trip, we must say. A novice tourist would have felt bad and given in to these tactics to get more money, thus overpaying him. Most complain no matter how much you give them.

We went over and visited the Hilton and found a fancy restaurant that had belly dancing and music. I decided to give Valerie a great birthday dinner, albeit belated, later that evening. They also had internet access, so we planned to rent the computer to check our e-mail. We then hired a taxi to take us to the second largest mosque (pron. moose key- accent on the moose) built by King Hassan II, where we worked until dark. The place was spectacular. (The king, 70 years old, just passed away on 7/23/99, and his son just took over.)

The next day we went back to the airport and picked up the rental car. Drove back through the city so we could take the coast route south. Went by the Mosque again and hit a 'round-about', where everyone looks to see if it's clear before entering the circle and goes their way. (Stopping is a suggestion in most of these countries). Two police standing nearby waived me over and, speaking in French, motioned how I'd ran a stop sign. It seemed he kept saying he wanted $400 Dirhams, ($40 U.S.) but when I tried to pay him he waived his hands no. So I thanked him and started to get in the car and then he would get upset and say no again. I'd offer it again and he'd say no, and I'd start to leave again... Finally, I figured out the amount of the bribe was 100 Dirhams ($10 U.S.), not the 400 dr. he said I'd have to pay if I decided to fight the ticket he would have to write up. I could either pay them or pay the judge four times more money. I had been trying to pay him the 400 Dr, and although he was crooked, he wasn't that crooked! Felt real relieved once that was over and vowed to drive more 'responsible', for awhile.

After a nice meandering two hour drive down the coast we hit El Jadida and found a pleasant hotel to stay at. The place had a restaurant, as most do, and the waiter spoke good English, which most don't. Most speak French only, their second language, after Arabic. He answered lots of questions we had gathered up since arriving in the country. Another tourist told us of a famous Portuguese underground cistern in the old city there, which we found the next day. The lady that manned the tourist attraction would not let me use my tripod in the place. It was a series of beautiful archways supporting a ceiling that had one large round opening in it's center which let light flood into the darkness. The cistern contained water, so the whole place reflected the lit up arches, with the sun giving a strong stream of light diagonally at the right time of day. A real winner, even though I had to do the long time exposures of 10, 30 and 60 seconds balanced on top of my camera backpack while on my knees. Every five minutes she'd come down to see if I had snuck the tripod out and used it, and after an hour of so she stated to bug us to leave, because we were taking so long. We stalled her and said we were almost done. After a few times telling her this another hour had gone by, as well as the streaming sun, but we got what we had come for. An award winning image that one of the sponsors will probable go goo-goo over when they see it. I sure do. Thank you Lord!

Sponsored by Z&D of Fairbanks, California

Underground Portuguese Water Cistern, El Jadida, '99,

The next morning we visited a town just north of El Jadida that sat on a rivers edge. The first few minutes of sunrise splashed light on the whitewashed buildings, while dark blue clouds brooded over them in the background, so dramatically. Another winner.

The next day we continued further south, heading towards the Sahara, again slowly along the dune and ironwood covered coast. Lots of small farms ran along both sides of the highway. Very picturesque... (to be con't when there is time.)

Morocco, Asilah, asila, Casablanca, Marakesh, marrakesh, camels, kasbah's, casbah's, desert photos, sahara desert, timbuktu,Seewald,
color photos, Color Photographs, black and whites, b&w, Black and Whites, silver gelatin photographs, Ansel Adams, photo workshops, photographic workshops, photo classes, photography classes, seewald, Valerie E. Wong Gallery, valerie wong, Seewald's, Michael
Seewald, photographia, arte, Del Mar Plaza, photographic art, limited editon art, photos, photographs, fine art photo, seawald, Valerie E. Wong Gallery, Del Mar, Ansel Adams, Edward Weston, Seewald's, Michael Seawald, Sewald, arte,black and whites, Black and White,
Silver Gelatin Photographs, photographia, valerie wong, gallerie, foto gallerie, Art Calendars, photographic art calendars, limited editon art, photos, photographs, fine art photo