July 2009: Choose Your Own Adventure

My mom, dad and brother came to visit Morocco during July, and they were champs. My brother has done some traveling internationally and could only stay for one week because of work commitments. My mom traveled about 30 years ago, ironically to Tangier, and my father applied for his very first passport to come on this trip. They were staying for three full weeks. This was bound to be an adventure.

Naturally, they were the last ones to deboard the plane in Marrakesh, having gotten hung up by customs forms. I was there to greet them, along with Ismail and Brahim, from both the village, who were helping out as driver and host.

Now let's take a moment with Ismail and Brahim because that's a potentially confusing situation: Ismail makes a living with his 4 x 4 (henceforth called a "cat cat" from the French translation). He keeps it remarkably well maintained and works constantly. He's a reliable friend, and someone who I asked to take care for my parents, who agreed to pay him a fee for his services. Brahim, on the other hand, also a hardworking guy and reliable friend, was not being paid, but joined us on the trip to offer help and guide us to places that he knew and trusted. Also, quite frankly, he's the guy I plan to share the rest of my life with from now until we kick our respective buckets. The father of my children. That sort of thing. (He's great. You've got to meet him.) He came along to get to know the In-laws. (Did they like him?! Keep reading.)

So we left the airport and took them directly to a special place outside of the city where they were welcomed by nearly all of Brahim's brothers and plates of couscous, piled high and steaming. It was nearly midnight. So hungry from their travels and curious about this new dish, they dove into the communal plate. Even my brother Dan tried everything, who typically won't eat anything that was once growing!

Exhausted as my mom was, she asked questions of the kids – quickly realizing that the language barrier was no joke. Together we translated her questions as Brahim's teenaged niece dissolved into embarrassment and his 9-year-old nephew snickered and giggled. That sounds about normal.

The first week was a whirlwind as we whisked my family around southern Morocco, giving Dan a real tour before heading back home. We took a camel ride into the sunset in the deserts of Merzouga – a romantic place, but harsh. Splashed in the river nestled in the spectacular Tohdra Gorge. Filled up our water bottles at the springs of Goulmima. In my village, we had lunch with Brahim's family, where there was a lot of staring at one another in confusion and amazement. Dan and I set out one night to attend a real Berber wedding…which ended up being a bunch of folks hanging out in a dry riverbed. (That one I can't explain.) And we did a lot of laughing and chatting together.

[Doh! In my draft, I gave up this post for a more Bohemian-poet-and the sands of time attempt. Thats annoying. Guess you'll have to read the next post, and call my mom to get the full Young Family Power Point Presention!]