En Moroc!
And a job (but not in Morocco!)
Hi everyone,
First of all, let me say thank you so much for all the messages of support after my last post! I was struggling hard in September and it was lovely to get so many comments, emails and direct messages letting me know that feeling lost and a bit sad is normal and that everyone was rooting for me. It really helped push back on the blues hovering around the edges of the current stage of this adventure.
I am happy to report that I now have a job! As of November 17 I am going to be a team lead with a non-profit in Scotland that helps adults with disabilities and their families hire staff to support them to live in the community. The agency has divided Glasgow up into sections and each section has about 6 - 7 adults who have a variable number of staff. The estimate was that I would be managing/supporting about 15 - 20 staff.
It sounds like a combo of case management (“What do you mean Marcus hasn’t received meds from the pharmacy since Wednesday?!”), advocacy (“No, Judy really can’t manage with only 12 support hours a week. We need to find a way to increase them so she can live safely and her family isn’t exhausted.”) and staffing stuff like hiring, scheduling and performance management (“Kyle, you asked for Friday and Saturday off and the request was declined because there was no coverage. Later, you called in sick for those days and Yusuf didn’t have any staff until late Friday afternoon. Can you tell me more about what happened there?”)
I think its going to be an excellent combo of the skills I have gained working in various roles over the years and it will ground me in the social service landscape in Scotland. It pays less than official “S”ocial “W”ork, but who knows how long it will take to get those credentials signed off on. This will be a fantastic place to meet people, make friends, get the lay of the social services land and, of course, get a paycheque!
My other good news is that I have long-term housing! My land lady/roommate said she thought I was fitting in really well and that the kids liked having me around (yes!) and that I could stay as long as I want. WOOHOOOOO! Its a gorgeous space and a great neighbourhood and its fun living with a family. It helps keep me functioning with a normal-ish schedule while I am waiting to start this new job. Left to my own devices I turn into a teenager who stays up until 1am and sleeps in until 10am. Its a treat for a couple days but after a while my mood gets weird. Waking up to the sounds of the chaos of kids trying to get out the door for school is way better. Especially when it’s not my job to actually *manage* that chaos.
Now, lets talk about travelling!
When I accepted the offer to share a home with this lovely family, I agreed to clear out for 10 days in mid-October so she could fulfil her commitment to a home share arrangement she booked earlier in the year. I looked at the cost to stay in Glasgow and soon realised that for not much more I could go to a new country so off I went! I found weekly direct flights from Edinburgh to Marrakesh and a 10 day Intrepid tour that started right in the middle of a two week window. So, on Oct 9 I was up at 3:45am and out the door at 4:15am to catch the 4:40 shuttle from central Glasgow to the Edinburgh Airport. The flight was smooth (other than parenting other people’s children the entire time 😒) and in a mere four hours (vs. 15 - 20 hours from Vancouver!!) I touched down in hot, dusty, chaotic Marrakesh. I was so not ready.
My first accommodation was at a riad in the old market, or Medina, in the middle of Marrakesh. I had booked a transfer from the airport to the hotel but I didn’t realise that you couldn’t drive right to it. My driver dropped me off at a gate into the Medina and I stood there feeling tired, confused and suspicious as a new man with a large luggage cart with bouncy tires loaded my stuff into his giant, off-road wheelbarrow and beckoned me to follow him through the crush. Um, OK.
We headed off towards the large square called Jemaa Ee-Fenaa and my porter pointed out the cobras, snake charmers and monkeys that did tricks (while they were attached to the ends of small chains 😔 ) as we went along.
Jemaa Ee-Fenaa from a lovely terrace just after sunset that first night.
The square seemed impossibly busy but we soon plunged into a little street on the east side of the square and the real chaos began. The narrow alley was jammed with shops, stalls, locals, tourists, motorcycles, bicycles, donkeys pulling carts and tiny, alley-sized, dump-trucks attached to the front of a motorcycle. The smell of grilling meat, baking bread and incense mixed with diesel, gas fumes and dust. People yelled in multiple languages, honked and banged their trolleys to get you to move out of the way while others asked you how you were, where you were from and would you like to come into their shop. And, it was 31C. So. Not. Ready.
Eventually we made it to the hotel and I was asked for money from the porter. I was annoyed because I thought the fee for the transfer was paid so there was a bit of squabbling but eventually he agreed to take four, one pound coins and I went inside the cool, quiet riad to get settled.
The staff at the Riad Lamzia were lovely and took me up the three flights stairs to my small room on the roof. This room would be way too hot in high summer but it was fairly comfortable in mid-October, especially after the sun went down. I also had the whole roof-top terrace to myself much of the time which made me feel quite fabulous. It did mean that there weren’t many walls to dampen the calls to prayer each day (that first early call was a bit of a shock!) but I got used to it.
Over the next two days I explored the Medina and tried to figure out how to navigate the chaos without getting run over.
In spite of my best efforts to stay sharp and not get sucked into any scams I did get pulled into a racket where a “friendly” man who just happened to be going in my direction walked me to the tannery section of the Medina. He turned the corner and voila, a kind and surprisingly un-busy man just happened to be ready to take me for a tour. After the tour of the tannery (which, to be fair, was interesting) he popped me around the corner to a shop full of very beautiful things. One of them even made sure to take a picture of me,
Note the sprig of mint in my hand which is given to visitors to the tanneries to help mask the smell.
Once in the shop more very friendly people whisked me around the store and showed me lots of pretty leather, wood and wool items before plying me with tea and then taking me into a side room to look at carpets.
By this point even too-friendly, Canadian me had cottoned on to the fact that I was being railroaded into spending money but I was confident I wasn’t at risk of buying a carpet so I sat down to at least look and learn more. After learning about all the different wool options the man showed me a “cactus silk” option and suddenly my resolve started to crumble. It was so soft! It was so shiny! It was so strong!! *sigh*
In the end, I walked out with a carpet about the size of a single bed for the low, low price of $700(CAD). ACK! I was able to get him down from the $1100 he initially started at but I think I could have done better if I had been confident enough to walk away. For a few days I was obsessed about getting sucked into such a silly purchase on day two but after the embarrassment wore off, I contented myself with the knowledge that I really do like it and I and I will have it forever. On the upside, as the carpet wasn’t wool it was quite slender so it fit comfortably in my carry-on sized luggage and it was easy to carry for the rest of the trip. Plus, it makes a pretty funny story. Who buys a carpet on day two of a two week trip to Morocco!
Less funny was being bossed into paying the “helpful” guide at the end of the shopping experience and then being assigned to another “helpful” guide who was supposed to be taking me back to the main square. After paying Mr. Helpful I was about to turn on my heel and walk off but a young man with what I would guess was probably moderate cerebral palsy popped up and my resolve to leave on my own weakened. I knew I had a small amount of money left and that he likely did have a genuinely harder time than his colleagues making money so I agreed to be “guided” (never mind that Google maps works brilliantly in the Medina) back to the main square. He was hustling and more than once I thought he was going to fall on the cobbles. I learned a new phrase as we pushed through the crowds - “piano, piano!” This was usually yelled out by locals who appeared to know him and didn’t want him to trip and fall. I looked it up when I finally got back to the hotel and it means “slowly, slowly” in Italian. Even I was saying it to him by the end.
By this point I knew I was basically being charitable by being “guided” by this young man and I knew I was being led long a too-long route to get back to the main square but I put my foot down when we ended up his “cousin’s” shop. After refusing to go into the store and starting to walk away he reluctantly agreed to take me back to the main square. Once there, he insisted on a $20 USD fee for his services and showed me a medication bottle that he said was his and needed help to pay for. I was polite but firm and offered him the small amount of cash I had left. In reality he had probably worked physically harder than the other “helpful” men I met that day but my wallet was literally empty. I gave him what I had, wished him well and headed back to the hotel to cool off.
For the rest of my time in Marrakesh, I tried not to be too nice, definitely refused all offers of help to navigate the market or to come into people’s shops. I was trying to work on having better “borders” (boundaries) as advised by a very kind young man named Khalil at the riad who commiserated with me after my carpet adventure. Its good advice!
Khalil, was such a kind guy that when he found out I was gluten free he went 5km out if his way on his off time to find me GF baked goods for breakfast. I hadn't mentioned it on my booking form because I didn't want to be a bother and had brought my own bread but he looked physically pained when I declined the breads he offered at breakfast and explained why I couldn’t eat them. My Canadian need to not be a bother clashed strongly with his Moroccan need to be a good host. He looked very serious and said he would have to go find me some. I tried to dissuade him but no luck. And really, he found such great breads that I am glad I didn’t dissuade him!
He served these with great pride and solemnity the next morning. I was really full after breakfast that morning but there was no way I wasn’t eating what he’d bought for me!
He was such a lovely young man. He had a masters degree in Arabic law (that’s extra hard he said because Arabic has “so many words!”) but was cobbling multiple, non-law jobs together to make a living. For the millionth time I found myself grateful for having the random luck to be born in Canada.
Somehow I forgot that Morocco had been a French colony and that they still speak French along with Arabic, Tamazight (the language of the indigenous Amazigh people who prefer not to be called Berbers ), English and Spanish. Once I caught up to the fact that French was still an option I had fun dredging up my high-school French to try to communicate. My new friend Khalil at the riad was always very patient with my French and more than one waiter indulged my practice as well. I was very grateful to all of them.
Unfortunately, as I got more tired throughout the day my language skills got more and more sluggish. One night, after a difficult exchange with an annoying woman on my tour, I tried to ask a waiter for a table in French, Spanish and English. He looked worried for me (which was fair, I was on the verge of tears) and gently asked which language was my strongest. He then warmly and kindly conducted the rest of the exchange in English. Thank you sir.
After two days in Marrakesh I moved to another hotel in a new part of town and met up with the people I would be travelling with for the next ten days. We were a mix of people from Australia (always lots on an Intrepid tour!), England, Grenada/USA and Canada (two Francophones and me.) The average age was about 60. I was happily lumped in with the young folks in their 30s which I thought was pretty funny.
Our tour guide was a really cool guy named Ayoub who is also a fantastic musician! You can check out his Spotify page here and the playlist he made for our southern Moroccan adventure here. Its beautiful music! He also had the patience of a saint. There was a good deal of complaining on our trip and he maintained a good sense of humour the whole time.
The tour segment I did was the 11 day South Morocco Discovery with Intrepid. I have never really thought much about travelling in Morocco but the timing fit so I booked it. It turns out southern Morocco is much less developed than northern Morocco. It sounds like travel is harder on the southern segment than it was on the northern bit but I was used to long travel days from the 2022 trip to southern and eastern Africa although the bus was smaller this time which made the journeys a bit less comfortable. One of the upsides of a less developed region for travellers was that the places we stopped were, on average, much less busy and touristy than the northern spots. We spent a night in a mountain village at a very clean and comfortable guest house and went for a hike (a source of MUCH debate among people who felt our mountain-confident guide’s definition of “easy” was not, in fact, easy. He quite fairly pointed out we were on the side of a mountain so *of course* some elevation was expected. )
Our triumphant lookout pic from the hike! Happily, we all made it.
We spent a night in a rustic camp on the edge of the Sahara and rode dromedaries to a big dune to watch the sunset. We also got up early for the sunrise which was hard for me but it was so worth it.
After the desert we explored another mountain village, toured La Maison Traditionnelle a lovingly restored Amazigh village home, enjoyed some traditional music (the banjo is a recent addition to traditional music, there is an Amazigh instrument but apparently its complicated to make and play so when people discovered the banjo makes the same type of sound they adopted it) and a fantastic cup of tea.
Photo taken by Yves, one half of the Francophone couple on our tour.
We had a great tour through Essaouira, haggled with shopkeepers (who were way more chill than those in Marrakech) enjoyed (and worried for) the cats of the city, learned about the fish markets and the history which stretches back to Carthaginian and Roman empires.
We also had a major sea food feast in Essaouira!
We explored the ancient, hill top village of Ait Benhaddou and pretended we were extras in Gladiator and Game of Thrones.
The most unexpectedly interesting thing we did was explore a village granary. I am always game to learn more about local traditions and resources and was happy to check it out but didn’t have high hopes. I am so glad we went though because it was so cool!
Each family in the village gets a room and they store grain but also important family documents. The small black holes that you can see to the right of the doors in the middle picture are cat doors! The grain attracts rats but the rats attract cats and the cat doors allow the cats to come and go easily on their hunting rounds. The granary is heavily fortified with high, thick walls and heavy doors. There is also a huge cistern of spring water in the middle so if there was ever a siege the villagers could retreat to the granary and wait it out for quite a long time.
The man giving us the tour was in his 70s and could run up and down those ladders like a cat himself! It was amazing!
You can't go to Morocco and not take pictures of the gorgeous doors!
On my last day I did a hot air balloon ride at dawn!
I was temporarily adopted by a German family during this excursion. They were such nice people. The 12ish and 14ish year old daughter were keen to practice their (already excellent) English and and the husband generously took my photo several times. The mom looked happy not to have to pay too much attention to anyone at that hour of the morning! They also adopted a young woman who was born in Benin and lived in the Congo before becoming a nurse in Germany. She was dressed like she was on a fashion shoot. The groggy Germans and I were really impressed!
After my hot air balloon ride I went out for lunch at a fancy French Cafe and did a bit more shopping before I headed back to the hotel to relax, pack and get ready to head back “home.”
I’m not going to lie, it did feel weird to be going back to Scotland and not Vancouver. In fact, at one point on the trip I actually forgot I didn’t live in Vancouver any more. That was a very disorienting moment and did make me tear up a bit over my chicken tagine. It is a strange feeling to be as unmoored as I am right now. I mean, that was kind of part of the point of this adventures but feeling it is a different thing than anticipating it.
The stable housing helps and the routine, friends, contacts (and paycheque!) that come with a job will help alot too but it definitely doesn’t feel like home yet. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. I am only four months into this adventure and only a couple months into properly trying to make Glasgow home. And, even then, I was in a crummy Airbnb for 3 weeks and Morocco for two weeks. Its unrealistic to expect that I will feel truly settled in a few weeks. Patience Jones. Patience.
I’ll leave you with this serendipitous (thank you seagull!) sunset pic taken on the terrace of the restaurant we ate at in Essaouira.
Thank you as always for reading!
❤️ G
Congrats on landing the job! And loved your Morocco photos and tales (although slightly jealous to be missing out on the cameo adventure this time). Always look forward to your updates!
Love these updates .. sounds like life is coming together for Jonesy. Cheering for you from the homeland (now the wet homeland)