My first trek.

So a bunch happened before this, but for reasons I can't say yet, I'll leave it out for now, but there's still plenty left, anywho...

(Journal entry)

By the time I'd woken up I still hadn't decided exactly how I was going to Meski. I couldn't decide whether to drive there and walk back or to just the opposite. I mulled it over while finishing off two more sandwiches and for some unknown reason decided to walk. I left with a half bread, two oranges and a half quart of water expecting a quick three hour jaunt and lunch at the Meski restaurant. From what I'd read, and granted the guide was quite obtuse with frequent oversight of misplaced modifiers, I assumed I could follow the Ziz river straight to Meski - 18 km by car and possible the same on foot (the road went out of the way which should compensate for the winds in the river). The river was just to the east, a block further than I've been before.

I got to the bridge marked as such that one would presume it stradled the Ziz; however, from the middle it overlooked a dried up basin with gray rock and perhaps a pddle in the distance. Although it was in plain view, it was still used as a receptacle, although not heavily from my vantage point. I almost decided to go back but figured that the city had sucked up the water and eventually I'd see the opposing current from the Meski spring. I choose to stay up on the banks, the basin seemed vulnerable for some reason, and I headed south. No more than 100 meters and I was passed by a man towing a cart on his bicycle - taking out the garbage I presumed. A section of the wide basin had been plowed and appeared set up for soccer, although something told me it was an ill-conceived effort on behalf of the city. I started to enjoy the walk. I was occasionally passed by a bicycle or moped crossing the rivere bed on various trails that shot in and out of the city walls.

Unexpectedly, the further out I got, the more garbage I found. Piles of rock appeared to litter the landscape and I gathered they were mounds of trash buried to prevent further problems, which shortly also appeared ill-conceived. I reached water crossing in front of me and against the flow of the river bed. It's source was off hidden somewhere, but before I reached it I gathered it was more sewage than river. It stunk evenly across the banks. Once you got into it, it never got any worse or any better. The stram rippled past rocks in some sections but locked up in stagnant sludge pockets in others. It wasn't raw sewage, but it was unsettling. The left bank was accesible, but populated, and I didn't trust the inhabitants this far out of the city, choosing to wander near such a foul site. The right bank was dry and rocky, highly contrasting from the opposing oasis, but safe, although the filth was cutting me off. I found the nearest crossing and the smell made me reconsider once more, but spotting a stray dog on the left bank sealed the deal and I stepped onto a rock, one step from the other side. The rock, bigger than my shoe and clearly bearing some weight, was rather floating on the mud. I felt it give way and I rushed to the other side thankfully without hesitation. Fortunately the bog of eternal stench was thick enough that I only received a thin coating on my shoe and pant leg, up to about an inch above the cuff. Although it could've been worse, I starred in horror at my foot and instinctively looked for a streal to wash it off, but then dumbfounded by my surroundings I pressed on, content to deal with it later and hope the heat dries it out. I think the desire to leave the city overpowered any reasonable reaction to what had occurred. To my dismay, the dog I saw ran across my path shortly thereafter, somehow finding a more suitable crossing that was not at all obvious to me.

After another kilometer the river was less sedate, but still not holding off on the odor, and I crossed on an established bridge to reach the shadier left bank, shadier being the wrong word since the right bank had none. Although the sun was off my back, the progress was slow. Pathways were overgrown and I was trapped between an aquaduct and a steep bank into the river. The purpose of the aquaduct unknown since it was dirtier and just as smelly. I reached a small planter, like I'd seen in the city, only functional. As I approached I alerted a motley pack of dogs and although skittish, their numbers forced me to backtrack, returning to the dry side of the river bed. I was high above the river a few meters after I'd crossed when again I ran into dogs. At first it was only one running across the rocky desert far ahead of me, stopping directly in my path. I could make out a faint growl so I backed off and turned my gaze. He shuffled a bit further but then wised up to my trickery and growled again. I backed up further, stopping to pick up some stones if need be. He took off perpendicular to me and stopped a ways out. I had not decided anything when he started barking, not really a bark, but not quite as chilling as a howl. This alerted six or seven other dogs out of various nooks and crannies of the walls following the river. Had they been the same breed I'd have seen no options, but they were as scared as I was and not very trusting of each other. Their placement gave me only one option, to continue the way I was going. I drew back toward the river, ducking behind a mound to prevent the first dog from seeing me cross its path, but this also prevented me from seeing his so I walked very attentively. His barking came as a blessing since I was able to weave a path past each den, and as soon as I felt confident enough to drop all but one rock I headed far away from the river into the desert plains. Before I dropped my safety blanket I scanned my surroundings, one last check for any stalkers.

Before I could finish my assessment of the plain, my reason for looking became more pleasure than business. I was standing in the middle of a barren and incredibly flat desert. The bordring mountains were only a blur of color lost in the desert haze. All that was left of Rachidia was the image of an ancient Kasbah straining to contain an oasis. To the other side I could just make out the tip of a mineret, perhaps the one thing that pushed me to continue despite the devistating position. Before I reached the mosque and the village I assumed surrounded it, I stopped for shade under a small earther fort that had lost any trace of an entrance.

The town I reached was as bleak as the desert. Occasionally a moped would cross my path and I followed one that headed towards the river. I was tired of the sun and figured I was far enough away that the irrigated side of the river was safe, and it was; however, it was incredibly confusing. There were several paths with numerous tracks, but whenever I found one with the appropriate direction it always ran into a corner and I risked a short trek in the wrong direction, usually finding a useful trail breaking off. Eventually I ran into a small tree enclosed field that was being worked by several men. Just behind me was a small hut where folks were filling up jugs of water or just hanging around. I pointed in the direction I was heading and said Meski. One of the men pointed likewise and repeated in approval with the enthusiasm suggesting it was nearby. He then did some other gestures and phrases and for a moment I gathered that he thought my name was Meski, but I repeatd my earlier question and I was reassured. I started heading away and another man told me to wait. I was still a ways from Meski and likewise Rachidia, and I imagine they don't get too many white boys strolling by. The second man continued his duties after telling me to wait, so I stood abit confused and smiled at the first man. Turns out the second man was picking some vegetables for me and brought me two heads of some sort of lettuce type thing. I was quite flattered but kindly declined on account of no space, but the two farmers were quite insistant and persuaded me to shove two massive bundles into my tiny satchel, which was now pulling at the seams and overflowing with about six inches of the leaves. Having never received anything for free I lookd up to discuss the price but they were backing away and waving. I really could have used the food, so I tried a leaf and the first bite was kind of bland and quite like the texture of raw spinach, but the second was bitter and I spit it out, abandoning the idea of eating it. To further the matter, the nxt time I stopped to rest, I noticed my satchel was considerable emptier and my beatiful gift had wilted and taken on a black border around the shriveled leaves. I tossed it aside, but after a tractor passed me on one of the few roads I found, I threw it behind a little bank to make sure my rejection of the gift would never be found out. The tractor headed down the river bed and I followed.

A ways down the sun got to me again and I headed back into the palmery, which is only a smattering of palm trees, separated by dried out trees and small grass-like crop squares. I started following the muddy remains of a reecent irrigation. I was headed in the wrong direction as I followed the water, but I should've hit Meski by now. The water lead up to a kasbah I'd seen earlier peaking over the trees. There were no visible tracks anywhere, nore any paths for them to be on. I found an entrance and climbed through the kasbah, to explore, but mainly to find a vantage point to locate Meski. I couldn't believe the fortress was still standing. I could feel every brick crumble beneath my feet. Large chunks of staircase broke off during my ascent. I could barely peak over a short wall, and I couldn't trust the construction to allow me to climb further. I could see what appeared to be the end of the palmery. Now Meski is supposed to be 500 meters from the road and being about é km from the end of the oasis, I figured I was near both Meski and the road, and since I was unsure about which direction to head, I chose to find the road. In Morocco there are markers every kilometer noting the distance to the next town. While heading east toward the road I heard a large amount of water, something I expected to hear all day. I found a large aquaduct flowing south and I sprinted up, convinced that this had to come from the Meski source. I second guessed myself and headed east again. If this was water from the spring I was looking for than it wouldn't take more than ten minutes to double check at the road. About a kilometer later I emerged from the oasis into a desolate site composed of a few block houses and an extremely large military complex with a large tower. I pushed further east. I had assumed the town was abandoned until I caught site of a brightly colored woman, but before I could ask anything she ducked into a house sealing the door behind her. I pushed on further east expecting the road on the otherside of the garrison but found desert and a second roxw of houses another kilometer ahead. At this point I was dead tired and should've been finishing up a swim in the spring by now. I had no idea where I was, but was quite confident that the road was to the east.

Just beyond the row of houses I found it, and with my luck I stumbled on it right at a mileage stump, a small white brick with a city name and a distance, one on each side serving both directions. Knowing the exact distance to Meski, I found, quite disappointingly, that I had only traveled 13 km of the road in five hours, and still had five more kilometers to go. I couldn't believe how much I had overestimated my walking speed, but after I reached the next mileage marker in record time, I realiwed that the fault in my calculations was due to the considrable time zigzagging and backtracking around the crop squares in the oasis. I was tired, cranky, thirsty, hungry and lacking any corrective measures so I sat down in the shade quite defeated.

The town I was in consisted of perhaps twenty indistinguishable block houses lined up on one side of the road. A few men were sitting in groups in the shade, others wandered the desert close to the road on the other side. A few kids passed by on mopeds or circled about on bikes. It was very still and wuiet despite the occasional car passing through. Shortly after I sat down, one of the men kicking brush in the desert changed his course and headed over. We used up all of our common vocabulary with some cordial greetings and a short introduction. Once we finished up a kid on a bike cruised over - he spoke english. After finding out that I was walking to Meski he rephrashed the question to make sure he understood correctly, and if that wasn't shocking enough, he was in disbelief when he found out where I had come from. The first man stood politely through the whole thing, most likely understanding very little. We said goodbye, they wished me lcuk and I headed on. Shortly thereafter I reached a group of young men and went through similar motions. The bus came and two of them eagerly encouraged me to come aboard, my choice being ridiculous. I stopped or was forced to stop andspeak with every person before leaving the town, and the next one which nearly overlapped. Sometimes the word had spread and our exchange consisted of testifying that what they had heard was true. I was two kilometers away when a semi truck stopped in front of me and drug me inside. They not only took me to the turnoff to Meski, but drove the semi straight up to the front desk at the campsite. They were quite loud and although claiming to speak french, the passenger spoke few intelligable words. His numerous offers to sell me wine suggested he may be quite drunk.

The camp people were a bit unable to accomodate me, not understanding what to do with a lone person with no tent, but eventually I found a spot. I was visited by numerous linguists offering tea in their tourist shops. The last one had no offer and after learning about the day so far and my plans for the evening, he was quite giddy and in an attempt to get a handle on my strange reality he gave me the greatest compliment - he said, 'You are like Berber people.' He left and I had some tile alone to reflect on the previous hour. My interactions were more numerous than the entire trip so far and much more personal. My thrill was not that I had connected with the people, because I hadn't, but I was quite pleased to be firmly on a different side of the spectrum to them. All of the visitors are wealthy here - relatively, and most use that luxury to afford to live in comfort as they tour the country. The other side is those that have the luxury to punish themselves and do things that shock the skin of the locals. I had just started pushing beyond the guidebook and already I was being appreciated - it was a much needed encouragement.

My random choice to walk to Meski rather than drive and walk back was amazingly perfect. Not only did I have an amazing day but if I would've drove, the incredible disappointment of the campsite would have been too much to bare. The spring was hidden behind pipes somewhere that branched out, particularly into a large concrete swimming pool with diving boards and a wet bar. I was placed in a circle of palm trees and surrounded by massive campers protecting tourists happily watching television. Past the pool was a long row of carpet stores selling overpriced floor mats and other useless collectibles. But after my day I was content to go about my business and then lie on my blanket in the dark and enjoy my thoughts.

The highlight of my evening was washing the crap off my pant leg. It wame off surprisingly well but the smell seemed to remain. I tested a theory and changed into shorts and flip-flops and happily discovered that the foul smell was not sewage, but was an omnipresent mineral that stunk up when wet. After that realization the smell wasn't so bad, kind of like eggs, and I spent the evening cutting up an emergency blanket to desert proof anything vulnerable, encasing things in cozy reflective pockets.