So right now, I am laying in my cozy bed back at Kent, trying to recover from an annoying cold I picked up in Morocco. I just finished uploading all my trip pictures on Facebook, and now I feel sadly empty. I apologize if this blog post reads more like a diary entry. Here I go, reminiscing about everything that I saw over the past two and a half weeks.
On April 16, my friend Mike and I headed off on our grand adventure. Venice was the first place we went to, and it was absolutely gorgeous. We stayed at a cabin in a campsite located on the edge of the lagoon, and so we had to take a boat every day to reach the actual city of Venice. It was a lot of fun taking boats everywhere. Once we were in Venice, we took water buses (the V
enetian version of the Blue Loop) up and down the Grand Canal. It was rather surreal to see entire homes and buildings built on water. Even when we were walking on land, every few minutes or so, we would need to cross over another bridge. The water was a beautiful blue-green color. It was exciting to see so much commerce and traveling done by boat. One of the main attractions we explored the Doge’s Palace (the Doge was the Head of State back when Venice was a Republic). I did not realize how powerful Venice used to be. They had a strong navy (of course), and had control over many territories. Also, their control over trade with the Middle East and Asia made them fabulously wealthy. It was impossible to find a room in the Doge’s Palace that wasn’t dripping with gold, paintings, or exquisite glass work. Overall, Venice was an amazing city to visit. Their rich history, unique way of life, and beautiful crafts made Venice one of my favorite places I have visited so far.
After Venice (and a day trip to Verona, Italy), we headed onward to Barcelona. Barcelona was a cool city, with
lively nightlife and unique architecture. Our time in Barcelona was spent going to the beach, sampling the tapas menus around town (tapas are basically Spanish appetizers), and simply being witness to the busy and constantly in motion city life. When we were there, Barcelona was hosting the Barcelona-Manchester United football match, meaning that the city was flooded with the British. It was interesting to see the Brits outside of their own country, enjoying the power of their British pound. The Spanish were much more reserved compared to the unashamedly boisterous Brits.
After Barcelona, we took a grueling 9 hour train ride down to Granada, Spain. This was also one of my favorite places we visited. The scenery was breathtakingly gorgeous, as the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains surrounded this small Moorish city. The Moors were an Islamic people who once lived in Spain, until the Spanish monarchy kicked them out in the 15th and 16th centuries. Their influence on the architecture was quite apparent in Granada. Many windows were of the classic Islamic design, and one of the most awe-inspiring 
sights was the Alhambra, an old Moorish castle that sits on a hilltop looking over the city. We spend the day walking around the hilly streets and frequently stopping for tapas snacks. In the late afternoon, we hiked up the hills that lay directly outside of Granada. It was a hot day, and the climb was taxing. But once we reached the top of the hills, the view was unbelievable. Granada lay below us, spread out like a fairy-tale city. The Sierra Nevada mountains dominated the horizon. Gypsies have been in these hills for over 1,000 years, and they live in caves carved into the hills. We stopped at one cave where a gypsy man was selling mint tea. We sat on his makeshift benches, sipped our tea, and took in the quiet scenery. After a long while, we headed back down to Granada, back to the hustle and bustle of civilization.
Unfortunately, we had planned for only one day in Granada. Early the next morning, we headed to Algeciras to catch a ferry to Morocco. Morocco was the last leg of our journey, and it certainly was the strangest and most exotic place I went to. I cannot say whether or not I like Morocco or not. I am still recovering a little from the drastically different culture I experienced. All I can say is that my Moroccan experience changed me and made me question basic beliefs and values I thought that I had.
When we arrived off the ferry in Tangier, Morocco, we were immediately bombarded by men wanting to be our guide, or taxi drivers wanting to drive us around. We were quickly forced to accept the persistence of these people. As we were trying to find a hotel to stay at, multiple men simply started walking with us, providing us with information about the city, and wanting to take us to their “brother’s fine rug shop”. Of course, they all expect to be paid for this information, even though we never asked for it. We finally told one man to go away, and he immediately got angry and followed us, shouting at us that since we were the tourists, we should go away.
Morocco is officially a Muslim country, and the clothing of women is the most obvious indicator of this. The traditional dress of most women is a long, plain robe and a headscarf. To blend in, and hopefully not be hassled by any more “tour guides”, I put on a headscarf. I soon found that this was a mistake. As soon as I left the hotel, an old woman approached me, grabbed my arm, and started giving me a concerned lecture in Arabic. Of course, I have no idea what she said to me, but she must have assumed that I was another Moroccan girl. Perhaps she was wondering why I was in the company of a Westerner (Mike was still obviously a tourist, with his pale skin and blue eyes). But after that, I did not wear a headscarf.
After Tangier, we traveled to Fes, Meknes, and Marrakech. We explored the medinas of the city, which are 
ancient marketplaces where craftsmen make and sell their goods. The medina of Fes was like a maze, with over 15,000 streets. Everywhere we went, even small children would follow us and offer their guiding services. As a woman, sometimes I felt uncomfortable. Mike constantly had to be with me, otherwise, men would stare and ogle at me, a lone woman without a headscarf. Moroccan women have clear-cut roles. They are domestic housewives, and the women were noticeably paler than the men due to spending most of their time indoors. Sidewalk cafes lined the streets of every city, yet only the men were the ones who relaxed, sat down, and drank tea with their friends for hours. I was almost always the only woman at a cafe. One cafe didn’t even have a women’s bathroom. I was also treated differently. In restaurants, if Mike ordered something, the waiter sometimes did not take my order, but simply brought me whatever Mike had ordered. I was assumed to be his wife on many occasions, and was referred to as only “Madam”. Many times, the Moroccan assumption was that Mike made all the decisions and was the clear authority.
The most scary thing that happened for me was when I got sick the last two days in Morocco. It started out as a normal cold, but by the second day, my sore throat had gotten intolerably painful. We didn’t have ibuprofen, Advil, Tylenol, or anything like that. On our last day, we were in Marrakech. But I wasn’t even able to enjoy the wonders of the city as I wandered around in a daze, trying to ask various shopkeepers if they had pain medication. None did. All of the pharmacies were closed because it was a national holiday. It struck me that in the United States, even on Christmas, at least convenience stores would be open, and they all carry some form of medicine. I was stuck in an unfamiliar country, I didn’t know how to ask for pain medication in Arabic or French, shopkeepers had no idea what Tylenol even was (plus I didn’t know any brand names that would be familiar to Moroccans), and I had no idea of where to turn for help. So, I bought some Halls and dealt with it.
Morocco was a beautiful country, with amazing architecture and ancient cities. Many people were exceptionally friendly to us, and that helped us deal with the annoyance of the numerous and persistent “tour guides”. There were so many little things that were different from the US and other European countries, and many of the differences were not necessarily negative. A major reason I became an international politics major was that I strongly disagree with American ethnocentrism. I enjoy learning about and experiencing other cultures, and I do not believe that American culture or government is necessarily the best. However, after Morocco, my views are slightly altered. I used to heavily disagree with judging other cultures by Western standards. Now, I have the experience of being a Westerner in a completely non-Western country with strict codes of conduct, and I definitely appreciate the benefits of our modern, secular, liberal society. I think the blatant delegation of women as second-class citizens is very unfair. I enjoy having the freedom of choosing how I dress. I like knowing that if I walk around the streets of the US and England alone, this does not automatically mean that I am an object that men have the right to ogle at. I feel comforted knowing that if I eat food in a restaurant, there is a health code that helps to guarantee the safety of what I am eating. There are many other benefits of having an organized, advanced, liberal society, and I think that is what the US and England has achieved to some extent. I know that I am now evaluating a completely different culture by Western standards, a practice that I once completely disagreed with. But now I think that there are absolute standards of living in this world. Anywhere, no matter what the culture, I think that it is better to have the freedom to make one’s own decisions and have the benefits of a healthier life. Differences in culture and religion, of course, should always be appreciated and respected. But now I believe that there are and should be certain universal standards on how well a country and society functions in terms of how it provides for its citizens. Whew. That was my serious political and philosophical ramble. Back to our trip . . .
I was so happy to be back in England. I immediately went to the local Boots (an English pharmacy similar to a CVS) and bought ibuprofen and Sudafed (they had a whole wall of cold medicines!!). Going home, unpacking, and doing familiar routines again was really nice. Now, I enjoy reminiscing and looking back over the pictures from the comforts of my bed. Still, I think that this trip was valuable beyond measure. In total, I experienced 6 different languages, 9 different cities, 2 different continents, and 3 different governments and countries.
Now, one more month in England. Three finals, then I am outta here. I really do miss Penn State. I love England wholeheartedly, and this entire experience has been priceless. But now, it’s almost time to go home. I am strangely relieved. Well, thanks for reading (if you made it as far as this:)
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