Hiking the Rif

The morning after we visited Chefchowan, we headed off into the Rif Mountains to go hiking.

            We got lost several times on the way there, and what was supposed to be a 20km drive turned out to be about a two-hour bus ride.  But hey, When in Morocco…  Honestly, everything takes two hours with this group here.  We are perpetually late for EVERYTHING!

            The scenery was beautiful on the drive, which took my mind off of the longer than we expected drive, and the mindless jabber that happens all the time on the bus.  (THANK GOD for i pods!)

            At one point we came to a valley that was so green and beautiful that we had to stop to appreciate it.  Cows and sheep were scattered across the bright green grass, a little river ran through the middle, and the brown, green and pink mountains looked beautiful against the bright blue sky.  It was really amazing.

            We continued our drive back up the mountain when we stopped again to ask for directions.  I, as I always do, had to use the restroom again (I am the worst road trip companion, for the record, and I will never, ever claim to be anything other than that).  So I stopped to talk to the owner of the café who invited me in and introduced me to his family.  In Morocco, if anyone introduces you to someone you must at least shake hands with everyone you meet.  If you don’t shake hands, you will usually kiss the person on the cheek, twice, once on each side.   Kissing is more common with people of the same sex (women as well as men), or who are closely related to one another.   

            It is customary, if you shake hands with someone to touch your heart afterward.  It is a symbolic gesture that you are truly touched to meet that person.  The kissing greetings are more nuanced and I am so baffled by the codes, which govern them that I can’t even begin to explain them.  Most of the time, there are two kisses, one on each side, like the French do.  Sometimes however, there are four kisses, each kiss alternating sides.  Other times, there is one kiss on one side and two quick air kisses on the other.  Other times there are four quick air kisses on one side followed by four quick air kisses on the other.  If this paints a picture of how confusing it is and how difficult it is to greet someone (or take leave of them) when kissing is involved, then I have illustrated my point exactly.  The point is, I can’t explain it, nor do I understand it, I just go with the flow when I meet women who are kissers and not hand-shakers. 

            The man was telling me about how the village that was established there was done so with some investments from foreign countries.  It was established for education about and conservation of the beautiful forest that surrounds them.

We drove through the mountains until we came to the head of the trail where we were going to take our hike.  I decided about two weeks ago that I have been treated like a tourist since the second I got here.  As such, I decided that I would start dressing like one too.  So, out of the Italy clothes stash came the short shorts, which I am way more comfortable wearing when it is a hundred stifling degrees outside.  I was wearing them the morning before we left and I got chastised by more than half of the group (little did they know who would come out on top of this one!)

            When we arrived at the head of the trail, our guide started marching off immediately and speaking to me in French- do I look French?  Because I really didn’t think so.  At first the trail was straight and flat and we were walking between the bushes, but after about 600 meters, we took a turn down to the river bed.  The guide said something to me and I heard something about “do you know how to swim?”

   “Oui! J'aime nager!” I responded, although I had no idea why he was asking.  It was hot, so maybe we would get to hop in the river.  I had no idea. 

            After about 5 minutes he asked me again, and I gave the same answer.  He said, “Swim, very good,” in English and said something else in French, gesturing and drawing a line at his waist.  At this point we were climbing over rocks and jumping over water.  At one point we came to an area where jumping to a dry rock wasn’t an option.  He turned to me, beamed a huge smile and said, “You, swim!” 

            I looked at him like he was crazy, which made him look at me like I was crazy.  I told him in French that there had to be another way.  He shook his head.  I tried Arabic.  He shook his head again.  I tried again, one, last, feeble attempt in English.  “You, Swim.  Yes!” He repeated. 

            It was hot.

            C’est la vie!

            Off came the shirt and shoes and in I went.  The water was freezing, and my lungs contracted in my chest.   The rest of the group came around the corner and looked at me wondering what the hell I was doing, and then they realized that I was embracing the same fate that they too were faced with.  I have never seen some of the people in our group so shocked before.  It was awesome. 

         

            We had an hour and a half hike, upriver.  It was exhausting, I couldn’t believe how dangerous it was (the first real adventure we have been on so far, that’s for sure), and I couldn’t believe that no one knew what we were in fore before we began.  I was so glad to be wearing shorts (thanks for the comments about me showing too much leg, because I know that I was more comfortable than anyone else was)!

 About half way through I was exhausted.  I asked the guide how much further and he said 20 minutes (you have to double the time for this group though).  I asked him if there was another way out, or if we had to go back the way we came.  He made a gesture and said that we were going to continue straight… lost in translation.  At the end of the hike we came to God’s Bridge.  It was a beautiful, natural landmark created by hydrologic erosion.  We stood there in awe of the amazing, omnipotent power of water and how beautiful it was when it settled in… there was no other way out. 

           

            The joke was for sure on us.  Three hours later, several marriage proposals by the toothless guide, soaking wet tennis shoes and starving from deciding to skip breakfast, I had to laugh.  It was the best example of being completely at the mercy of unfamiliar territory that I have been craving desperately since I have been here.  It was great.  It was beautiful.  I loved every second.