Marakech, Morocco- Days 5 & 6

We woke up after an exciting night in Telouet to a spectacular rainbow,

and left early Friday morning to begin our winding accent then decent from the mountains so we could make it to Marakech (the end is pronounced “sh”) in time for Shabbat. When we arrived in Marakech in the early afternoon we visited the Jewish Quarter of the old city, which contains a shul built in 1492 that continues to have morning services.

At one point during our visit Raphy, our tour guide who single handedly resurrected the history of the Jews of Morocco and even built a Moroccan Jewish Museum, told us something I found very touching and worth sharing. Raphy said, “I didn’t do my work for the Jews, but for the Muslims. When the Muslim kids grow up and see the negative media concerning the Jews, they will know more about the Jews than just what the TV says. They will understand.”

After our visit to the synagogue we checked into the hotel and got ready for our Shabbat in Marakech, Morocco, with a Jewish community of only 250 people. The number used to be about 120 times as big at 31,000 Jews before 1948.

We spent Shabbat at a different synagogue than the one we visited early that day. This synagogue contained an Ark that was miraculously saved by the current Rabbi’s father. He took this beautiful ark from an old synagogue that burnt down not too long after he moved it. Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures, but it was large and handcrafted by two brothers (I forgot what year it was from).

A few things really caught my attention during our Shabbat in Marakech. On Friday night the “lecha dodi” was one of my favorite parts. The stark difference between the familiarity of the words and the foreign tune is one of the most basic yet moving parts of learning about and experiencing Judaism from all over the world. The tune, which sounded very similar to the call to prayer, is something Moroccan Jews hear five times a day, so it’s not surprising that the Jews incorporated it into their prayer. The call to prayer is pretty self explanatory, but I may or may not elaborate on it more in the next post, I guess we'll see how much time I have/how I'm feeling.

One other interesting part of the Friday night service was that “Yigdal” was sung to the tune of HaTikvah, the Israeli national anthem. What I found so fascinating was that they live in a country of roughly 5,000 Jews with dwindling communities, and their connection to the land of Israel was so apparent during “Yigdal.” When we just look at them and hear them pray we feel virtually no connection, or it may be better to say distant, from them, but we are able to connect with these North Africans whom we otherwise may have never interacted with or thought of.

Lastly, on Shabbat morning it was so cool to hear the Rabbi give his speech in Arabic, French, and Hebrew. He was just jumping between the three languages surprisingly fluidly. How often do you get a chance to hear that?

Now to add a little color to this blog, here are a couple more pictures from Marakech.

Telouet, Morocco- Day 4

We spent the night and first 15 minutes of the morning in Warzazat, which contains an ancient Kasbah, a fortified city, built in the 12^th century.

From Warzazat we drove about an hour, maybe longer, to another more remote Kasbah where they filmed The Mummy.

The views from the top were incredible too. Being able to see the green trees of the Oasis, the red-ish brown of the desert sand, and white snow capped mountains in the distance was so awesome to see. How often do you see all three landscapes in the same picture?

We spent about an hour there and then drove another hour or so into the Atlas Mountains where we met up with old, rickety vans that took us 45 minutes off the main road and to the remote Berber village of Telouet. And when I say old and rickety I mean it, one even broke down on the way to Telouet. We ate a quick lunch then took a tour of the village and the ancient Kasbah near by.

The most intriguing part of the Kasbah is the magnificent palace it contains.

In the winter of 1893 the Sultan of Morocco and his army of roughly 3,000 men were stranded in this part of the labyrinth-like Atlas Mountains. Madani and T'hami Glaoui took care of the Sultan and his army, and in return they received political power. Their power continued to grow until they were almost as highly regarded as the Sultan until they were disloyal to the king a number of years later, which ultimately lead to their downfall.

Though what I found most fascinating during our exploration was that there was a shul in this little village.

Our guide told us that the last Jews left 40 years ago. It’s incredible to think that Jews lived this far out in village some where in the mountains. Maybe my pictures can somewhat convey the remoteness of this village. And may I remind you that we drove for 45 minutes on a narrow, very poorly paved road while we saw nothing but rolling mountains of brown, red, green, and even some hints of purple outside our windows. There were virtually no signs of human life along the way with the exception of the road we were driving on and the extremely small village we passed along the way.

I know the pictures are the best part of the blog, but I promise you will not regret it if you read the rest of it.

After exploring the Berber village we had free time for a few hours until dinner. A friend and I watched the sunset while discussing how freaking awesome everything has been for us and how fortunate we are to be where we are (shout out to mom and dad. THANK YOU!!). 

After dinner we enjoyed the local Berber’s Achwaj, a type of music created by the Jews, believe it or not, around 850 years ago. We listened to, danced to, and even played the traditional music for hours.

I even had to go inside at one point to put my feet by the heater. 

At about 10 o’clock ten of us took a lantern lit walk to a field far enough away from the lights of the village to stargaze. The moon was bright and the wind fierce, which deterred people from staying, but the five of us that stuck around did not regret it one bit. Even though the moon lit up the sky, we decided to stay out and make a fire.

We walked even further away from the village and collected wood for about 45 minutes. We walked back to where we left the lantern and began to make our fire. It took just about everything we collected and a wall of rocks to block the wind to get it going, but we made our own fire. We ignored the biting wind and enjoyed the warmth and of course the feeling of accomplishment from the fire we worked so hard to start. We didn’t care that the moon was too bright see all the stars, we just savored the beautiful views of the surrounding snowcapped mountains which the moon illuminated. Everything about that night was incredible, or in other words, how often do you get to spend time dancing with Berber people, after eating their delicious couscous for dinner, and then rough it like Bear Grylls by making a fire under the stars in the middle of the Atlas Mountains?

Next we’re on our way to the big, developed cities Marakech, Casablanca, and Fes, but we finally got our real, authentic Moroccan experience, and it ended with a bang.

“I realize my ignorance the more I travel.”- Peter Geffen

Sahara Desert, Morocco- Day 3

We woke up at 5:30 to hike for about 45 minutes up large sand dunes on the edge of the Sahara to watch the sun rise. Words can't describe how incredible it was, so I'll try to do it with pictures.

You can't feel the cold sand filling your shoes. You can't breathe the fresh, crisp air of the Sahara at dawn. You can't see a panoramic view of rolling dunes and lights from not so distant cities. You can't embrace the complete silence that is so rare today when outside. You can't feel the warmth of the sun on your skin while your face feels like it's defrosting. But now that I've described to you what you can't feel, hopefully you'll be able to appreciate every other sensation felt by my friends and I as we sat and watched the sun rise over the Sahara.

(By the way, just click on the pictures to enlarge them. They're better that way anyways.)

Errashadiya, Morocco- Day 2

Today, Tuesday, was our day of community service. From about 9:30 am until 3 pm or so we helped restore a 370 year old shul in the city of Errashadiya. 

After the daze from the paint thinner odor wore off and we got the paint off our hands, we made a quick stop by the date souk in Errashadiya. 

From there we drove another few hours to Erfoud where we loaded jeeps just as it got dark and drove almost an hour through desert. Somehow we ended up at our hotel, which seemed to be an oasis right on the edge of the Sahara. We’re waking up early to watch the sunrise while playing in the sand dunes of the Sahara.

While I sit under some of the most magnificent stars I, or I assume anyone has ever seen, I thought I would share some thoughts, per critique of my lovely sister. She told me to try to make these blog posts more personal, and the best way to do that, I think, is to give you guys not only an insight to our adventures, but to also give you some insight into the many, many thoughts flowing through my head.

So here are some thoughts I wrote down in my phone so I would be able to share them with you. (And I decided to sprinkle in some pictures of Morocco because I want you to see them, but I don't know where else to put them)

While on these trips, in these countries, doing things I never thought I’d do in a million years, I am extremely happy. There is nothing else I would rather be doing with my year. There is nothing better to be doing with my time, and there is no better time to be doing what I’m doing.

The growth each of us on Kivunim is going through is immense and even though we’re all doing the same thing, we are all growing in 36 different ways.

The best part of this year, arguably, is that we have an entire year to stimulate our brains like they’ve never been stimulated before. We are constantly exposed to 3 languages at one time, we are learning about different religions and cultures while also learning about our religion and culture, and we get to have first hand experiences in places like we’ve never seen before. Being able to have thoughts like these, among hundreds or even thousands of others, for an entire year is something we may never get again, and for this I am so extremely appreciative I cannot even begin describe how grateful and happy I am.

"I realize my ignorance the more I travel." -PG

Taroudant, Morocco- Day 1

After a long night of deadlines (our paper before each trip, which was due at 11:55 pm Saturday night, and having our bags packed, because there is a small time slot to put our things in storage), gross, cold pizza at midnight, and a crazy finish to the Syracuse-Louisville game, Kivunim 2012-13 embarked on our second of four trips this year. We boarded the bus at 1:30 am for what may have been the longest traveling day of our entire lives- 21 STRAIGHT HOURS. And when I say straight I mean it. It’s not like we had a five-hour layover or something like that. We went from Tel Aviv to Istanbul, Istanbul to Casablanca, Morocco, and then, after our warm welcome in Casablanca,

we drove 7 hours south to Taroudant. When we arrived in Turkey we went straight to the next gate where we boarded no more than thirty minutes later.

We arrived in Taroudant at around 9pm, went straight to dinner, and from dinner to bed. After virtually 36 hours with no solid sleep, all of us were happy to get horizontal regardless of the facilities, but a few of us got a slight adrenaline rush after seeing our rooms. Four of us, myself included, had the privilege to stay in two-story rooms with two queen size beds, two bathrooms, a living space, and larger than necessary porches.  The porch in my room was so big they could have used half of it as an extension to our room and it still would have been big enough to accommodate our whole group… twice. However the coolest part of the hotel was the fact that it was built as a palace for the prince of Morocco in the 12^th century. It resided just inside the city walls, which are from the same period. What makes Taroudant really awesome is the city is still inside the same walls it has been in for hundreds of years.

In the morning we left at 9 for the souk (shuk) where they are known for their leather products and colorful spices (mom, Gabriella, and Oma let me know if there’s anything you want. That goes for everyone else too, of course).

 Honestly it was not very eventful, but it was still a nice way to start our Moroccan experience. Then we drove about an hour to the small village of Arazane with a very interesting and touching story.
Before I tell you this story though, I should give you a quick preface of necessary knowledge. Morocco had a large Jewish community for centuries. After the destruction of the first temple many Jews began migrating west, and some eventually settled in Morocco. The Jewish community became a constant here until after the Holocaust. Now you might be thinking that the fate of the Jews in Morocco was the same as the Jews of Central and Eastern Europe, but thankfully the story has a much happier ending. Despite the Nazis coming to Morocco and setting up Labor camps, virtually all the Jews of Morocco survived. So what happened to all the Jews? After the establishment of Israel, almost all the Moroccan Jews immigrated to the new Jewish state.

So now here’s the story. When the Jews left Arazane in 1960 the Rabbi gave the key of the synagogue to Harim, a local Berber Muslim man. A Berber, for those who don’t know, is a native of North Africa. The Rabbi asked Harim to give the key to any Jew who came asking for the synagogue. He held the key for over 40 years until Raphie, our tour guide, came to him because he had heard there used to be Jews there. When Raphie came to him asking for the synagogue Harim handed him the key and responded, “Baruch HaBah.”

When we arrived to Arazane we walked through the winding streets until we came to the synagogue. There we met Harim and heard his story. Peter Geffen, the founder of Kivunim, brought to our attention how remarkable Harim was. He held onto this key for close to 50 years when he could have used that space for himself and his family of seven kids. We sang Ashrei in the shul and put up a mezuzah, then went on our way. We ate lunch and then drove the rest of the day to Errashadiya.