Morocco 2010 - The Chullah

The Chullah is a citadel in Rabat that has been occupied since the Romans down to Muslims in the fourteenth century. Much of it was restored by the Muslims, but is has ruins from both.

The site also contains a botanical garden with some of the amazing flowers of Morocco.

Here are ruins from Roman times

These Roman ruins were a big deal to me. When I was going to Weber State (Great Great Great!) I took a class on Brazilian Culture. As the final, we were required to do research on a cultural icon and present it to the class. I chose Graciliano Ramos because I lived close to a borough named after him. One of the students showed a bunch of mission pictures from Portugal. I have no idea what his project was on, but I can remember him showing tile mosaics done by the Romans and being amazed at the length of history that Europe enjoys. 1847 doesn't seem so long ago in comparison to the more than two millennia in Europe.

I'm pretty sure this Latin translated to "Don't lean on this stone."

These are horizontal Roman columns.

Italian marble column - 14th Century  - one of the few still upright.

Tomb of the Black Sultan. I don't know who he was, but anyone called the Black Sultan had to be pretty nifty.

There were thousands of these birds on the grounds.

This was a fourteenth century Muslim School. The rooms in the back were two story at one time, and they were used for studying.

Spanish tile work - not bad for nearly seven hundred years old

The tile here is impressive, but the Italian marble stairs looked pristine. Sweep them off and maybe take a mop to them and you could sell them at Home Depot.

Footings for columns now gone

Dates hanging from the Date Palm.

Eel pool - the eels wouldn't come out for us.

We used to look for the oldest tombstone in cemeteries - I win.

I'm going to break this day up into two posts. More later.

Photo Album

Morocco 2010 - Independence Day - Pickpocket foiled

The whole reason for our trip occured on the Fourth of July. The American Ambassador to Morocco, Ambassador Samuel Kaplan, wanted the band to help the embassy personnel celebrate independence day even though they were far from the good ole' U.S. of A. Every American in Morocco, who is part of the embassy mailing list, received an invitation to the party. It was hard to figure how many people were there, but at least a few hundred.


The picnic/concert was held at an American School. There was a very nice pool, and baseball field, and lots of space to enjoy the time. The embassy folks had burgers and dogs to buy and drinks to keep you cool. While the rock band played a few sets, we explored the school grounds. There was a wonderful sitting area on one side of the area with a pond with lilly pads and everything. I snapped a few pictures, and then got in my suit and enjoyed the pool. The motivation to take pictures was light on the Fourth.

The concert was fun - the afternoon was hot - the pool was really, really nice. The highlights of the day were interacting with the Ambassador (who shared a delightful story about our own Ambassador Huntsman that I will not retell here) and the Marines who guard the embassy. Those fellows are high-speed. One actually came from Bejing and had another delightful story to tell about our own Ambassador Huntsman that I will also not retell here. Suffice it to say, our Ambassador from Utah is certainly making a great impression on those he meets worldwide. He has been a wonderful representative of Utah.


The rest of the afternoon we had some free time. We headed back into the Medina with the goal to get up on top of the city walls to look down on the beach.


The crowds when we had gone before were very manageable. This day was very different. The people thronged all around, and it was very difficult to make it through. As we walked through an area that had tables of textiles on either side of the narrow alley, some older boys started pushing the crowd. The other five soldiers with me began to spread out in the throng, and I found myself next to a woman and her small daughter. The daughter was probably six or seven years old and just teeny. Worried that they would get trampled, I used my considerable girth to set up a moving screen for them. As the pushing continued, I began to worry about pickpockets. I moved my wallet and passport (which we were required to carry at all times) to my front pocket just to be safe.


As the boys pushed, and I pushed back, I felt a hand in my pocket. Instinctively I grabbed the wrist. I had caught myself a pickpocket. He had my wallet in his hand, but quickly let go when I grabbed him. Of course when I held his hand up, he had nothing in it. Confused, and thinking that maybe his hand in my pocket was inadvertent, I let his wrist go. I'd had a pretty strong grip on him, and he wasn't a terribly big young man. I reached into the pocket to make sure my wallet and passport were still there. The wallet was, but the passport was gone. I felt sick.


I yelled forward to my good friend, Matt Jensen, that my passport was stolen. Matt was twenty feet ahead of me, but he couldn't hear me because of the crowd. He could tell I was troubled, and he started making his way back to me very quickly. I didn't know this at the time, but Matt had thought that I might be hurt or something else terribly wrong. He was pretty sure that he couldn't fight off the whole crowd, but was just about to begin raining down haymakers of death as he got back to me.


The young man that I had apprehended had seemed to melt back into the crowd when he reappeared with my passport that he had found on the ground. Oh - I must have dropped it . . . hmmmm.


Apparently in Morocco, stealing from a tourist is a serious offense that could land someone in prison for several years. Stealing from a foreign dignitary could land you in prison for most of your adult life. As we were guests of the state department, we traveled with official red passports rather than the usual blue ones. It must have made him sick once he saw the passport.


We reassembled with the other soldiers, and bid a hasty retreat from the Medina. Before we got out, this young man found me once again and made a seemingly very sincere attempt to apologize. As my Arabic/French is as bad as  his English/Portuguese I'm not sure how much was communicated.


I was robbed at gunpoint in South Carolina as a young man, but this one was more disturbing to me. I found myself the rest of afternoon mistrusting the Moroccans in the market. This takes all the fun out of the cultural experience.


We did eventually make it to the top and take some pictures.

The evening ended with a visit to a seaside cafe, and as we were told not to sample the seafood, we settled on the egg double burger.