My host mother is from Meknes, a 2.5 hr. train ride from Rabat. Approximately .75 of those hours were spent listening to various yelling matches in our cabin. The old man in the seat(s) adjacent to us insisted that he had paid for both seats and refused to let anyone else sit there. Numerous young, fairness-seeking men sought to convince him otherwise as seats were nearly nonexistent on this ride. It seems that yelling really loudly close to each others faces while gesticulating wildly is a common way of dealing with disagreements. It makes people watching even that more exciting because I keep thinking that a fight is going to break out. Truth be told, it makes me really anxious. Anywho...Meknes...
I fail to do this beautiful city gate justice. The gate is decorated with elaborate, brightly colored tile.
We watched this old Artisan at work. He makes beautiful things out of iron and silver. His rug collection is also way impressive. He sat us down for a 30 min. lesson about traditional carpet making. The work that goes into making one of those things is amazing.
Vicky and I outside some dude's old house that collapsed. He used this as his pleasure pool and a bathing area for his 12,000-plus horses. What would it be like to be a sultan?
Dang gurl! I didn't think they had Jerry Springer sh** in Morocco. One time I watched a fight in eighth grade. By the end of it, one of the kids had his shirt off...very Jerry. I can make a rug...out of my chest hair.
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