Morocco Unbound

Monday, March 18, 2019

We arrived in Marrakech at lunch time Saturday, after a day and a half of bus travel.  Fortunately, the Hotel Sofitel was our destination, just about the most luxurious hotel that we have ever stayed at.  For a few hours, I was able to retreat to bourgeois comfort, ignoring the squalor that I saw in the countryside getting here.  I'll have to call up The Nation on-line (https://www.thenation.com/) to try to restore some balance, but I might go down to the pool first.
 

The hotel had a copy of the New York Times International Edition, which gave me the opportunity to do a good crossword puzzle.  One answer was a place name that, decades ago, caused American politicians to breathe fire -- Matsu.  If you are not collecting Social Security, you never heard of it.  If you are, it's likely that you don't remember anything about it, along with so many other things in your past.  How long will it take before so many people, places and things that agitate us now fade from our consciousness?

. . .

Even the little that we have seen distinguishes Marrakech, the fourth largest city in Morocco, from Fes, the second.  Prosperity is more apparent; the neighborhood of our hotel reeks wealth and privilege.  The Marrakech Medina is not surrounded by a wall and is much lighter and airier.  It was founded in the 11th century, 200 years after the Fes Medina and seems to have learned something from its mistakes.

One charming aspect of Marrakech is the limitation on building height; no building can be higher than the Koutoubia Mosque at about 70 meters, 230 feet.  None seems to even come close.  In addition, all buildings must be more or less the same color, salmon pink to my eyes, but giving Marrakech the title the Rose City or Red City.  It reminded me of Jerusalem, where all buildings must be clad in "Jerusalem Stone," a name applied to various types of pale limestone common to the area.  The uniformity proves more attractive here in Marrakech.

. . .

We walked through the Medina yesterday afternoon and the adjoining Casbah,  which gave me the chance to learn the difference.  Every sizeable Moroccan city has a Medina, its old town.  Next to or within every Medina stands its Casbah, once home to the local elite and usually its arsenal.  It covers less ground than the adjacent Medina.  Its walls are higher and, during periods of conflict, shelters women and children, while the men do battle.  Fes's Casbah has effectively disappeared, while in Marrakech it now provides additional space to sell goods made in China.

. . .

"How much salary do you need to earn in order to afford the principal, interest, tax and insurance payments on a median-priced home in your metro area?" 

https://www.hsh.com/finance/mortgage/salary-home-buying-25-cities.html

In brief, it's crazy expensive to live in San Jose, California, where an annual income of $254,836 is needed, while in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, you seem to be able live off of petty cash, $37,660.  They both have hockey teams, by the way.

. . .

Wrapping up the weekend was an interesting question to the New York Times weekly ethics column, hosted by a philosophy professor from N.Y.U.  Usually, the inquiries he handles are of no more than academic interest to me, for instance: "I've just learned exclusively that our family's beloved medical doctor is really licensed as a veterinarian.  Shall I tell my elderly parents as they approach hospice care and/or my brothers and sisters?"

 
Instead, a person using his real name, a highly unusual event in this column, asked about conduct that he witnessed with some regularity at lunch at a Chinatown restaurant.   https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/12/magazine/is-it-ok-for-a-chinese-restaurant-to-favor-chinese-patrons.html

A Chinese patron is handed a lunch menu, while a round eyes is handed the dinner menu, which lacks lunch specials and carries higher prices. The questioner is concerned about other non-Chinese patrons, including many tourists. "I am always tempted to tell them to ask for the lunch menu. Would that be an ethically sound decision?"

Over the years, I have encountered this myself, but only once lunching with Michael Ratner at Wu Liang Ye, 36 West 48th Street, on October 25, 2018, did I unthinkingly go ahead and order from the dinner menu, at retail so to speak, without asking for the lunch menu.  Maybe I was so entranced by Michael's ever good company that I failed to take corrective action.  In any case, we enjoyed the food very much, but my blog entry noted that the prices on the restaurant's takeout menu were 15-25% lower than what we paid.  I never noted the absence of a lunch menu.  

The good professor gave a thoroughly unsatisfactory answer.  He claimed that the restaurant staff is "motivated by in-group preference."  But, "we'd feel very different about white servers favoring white customers."  On the other hand, the restaurant may just be trying to make more money.  "The tourists . . . tend to be more affluent."  What if "less price-sensitive people are guided to pricier versions of some food?"  Remember, we are advised, "in New York's Chinatown . . . every potential patron faces an embarrassment of gastronomic riches."  Oh, come on, prof.  Keep it simple.  Denying a customer information to make a rational decision is unethical.  Next question.

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

I am proving to be as ineffective in dealing with Moroccan businesses as the current occupant of the White House is in dealing with North Korea.  Following the suggestion of dear Elaine C., I sent a request to dine with Madame D., a Jewish woman resident of Marrakech, who welcomes people to her home.  Giving her one-month advance notice, I told her that we would like to visit her on Monday, March 18th.  She asked to be reminded a few days in advance and we exchanged messages over this past weekend.  While she gave me her address, she urged us to use the taxicab she would send to our hotel.  Okay.  19:15, the local way to tell time.  

Of course, at 19:15 we're standing in front of the hotel, asking every taxicab and hired car driver if they were looking for us.  We bridged the language barrier with the help of hotel staff members, but to no avail.  Then, I received a cryptic message.  "Please taxi is in the réception."  So, we walked around the hotel's circular driveway again and checked the street in front, to no avail. 

I called Madame D., but I only heard the sounds of a busy kitchen when she picked up.  Then, one of the hotel guys and a taxicab driver swept up in our mini-drama took turns calling her as well.  After several tries, she informed one of our volunteers that her taxicab driver was in the hotel lobby.  Indeed, missing several teeth and wearing a Yankees baseball cap in a non-regulation color was the driver from Madame D., with a surprise for us, two hot meals, ready to eat, in a shopping bag.  This was not what we expected, as I tried to explain to the driver, who seemed to regret not spending more time in the mosque.  

The next message from Madame D. was confusing and contrary to our understanding.

I said you i can t in my home i send you in your hôtel 

You had to pay the taxi race

C is the least politeness

Thank you

...

With that, we bid adieu to her driver and the shopping bags and sought guidance from our hotel's concierge.  He made a reservation for us at Dar Zellij, 1, Kaa Sour, Sidi Ben Slimane, deep in the Medina, possibly an Arabic homage to Woody Allen.  A taxicab took us as far as a vehicle could penetrate, where an employee of the restaurant met us to continue the journey on foot.  We took a path that would defy any tracking by satellite navigation, with so many twists and turns and taking so much time that we expected Wednesday's paper to read "Hunt For Tourists Resumes."  Fortune smiled on us, though, and we eventually arrived at a beautiful, restored 17th century riad with its original painted ceilings intact.  Food and service were commensurate with the setting, but there was no evidence of a Jewish woman in the kitchen.

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

According to a new book about Mr. & Mrs. Jared Kushner, "contempt for the entitled, venal couple may be the one thing that unites all of D.C.’s warring factions."  Isn't that heartwarming?

. . .

After too many hours on the road, we got to Casablanca, Morocco's largest city, with about 3.4 million residents, most of whom were in front of us in cars, trucks and buses.  We had a chance to see the King Hassan II Mosque, sitting at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, the third largest mosque in the world, standing 210 meters high, 690 feet.  It was too late to take a daytime tour open to non-believers, but even from the outside, it was impressive.

Not so was an ersatz Rick's Café, a tourist trap opened in 2004, which we also did not enter, but by choice.

. . .

With the threat of a wake-up call at 3:30 AM tomorrow, our visit to Casablanca ended soon after it began.

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Air France provided one great silver bird and then another to return us to Palazzo di Gotthelf safe and sound, that is if I don't mind arriving without my luggage.  Actually, it was nearly a singular accomplishment, because only 2 other people on the Airbus A380-800 from Paris had their luggage disappear, when the plane was just about full to its capacity of 516 passengers.  I'll provide an update tomorrow.

Friday, March 22, 2019

After a few minutes reflection, I can look back on Morocco through the three lenses that define my world view: Food, Politics and Jews.  Moroccans are very generous hosts.  The helpings of tagines and cous cous exceeded even my capacity on a regular basis.  The problem was that tagines and cous cous were the main course at lunch or dinner every day.  While I cycled through lamb, beef and chicken, there was ultimately a sameness to the dish, although when served in a beautiful riad, such as Dar Zellij, it's forgivable. 

I never reached my goal of at least one Chinese restaurant, although a few popped up as we rode through city streets.  We had excellent sushi, however, on the rooftop bar of The Pearl Hotel, 3, Rue des Temples, Marrakech, brought up from Namazake, the Japanese restaurant off the hotel's lobby.

. . .

Morocco is a constitutional monarchy, with a multi-party system in a viable parliament. For now, it's working, but it poses a tension between liberal values and democracy.  The parliament is in the hands of an Islamist party, kept in check by the king, who is both the secular political leader, under the constitution, and the Commander of the Faithful as a direct descendant of the Prophet Mohammed.  The latter role gives him clout in a society that has a large rural population, about one-quarter of the adult population illiterate and high unemployment among youth and women.  Yet, he avoids the faith-based policies advocated by the Islamists and supports, overtly and covertly, progressive economic and social policies.  His wife and daughter, for instance, do not wear a hijab (hair covering), unlike the majority of women we observed in public during our ramble through the country.  So, the autocrat is the good guy and the democrats are the bad guys, the same scenario that the late Stanley Feingold identified in "High Noon."

. . .

Finally, last and definitely least, the Jews.  To borrow from another movie, Gone with the Wind.
. . .
I had a very nice conversation with Air France this afternoon.  I was informed that my luggage will enjoy another night in Paris before rejoining me tomorrow. A small reunion is planned for the immediate family.