Travel and Tourism

Hard to believe it's been over a week since my last post. I haven't been plugged into the Internet despite its pretty universal access in Morocco. But more than just technological laziness, I've found it very difficult to write since I've been here. I'm not sure how to describe this issue. Perhaps, like Hemingway, if I may be permitted to use a pretty weak comparison, I find it difficult to write of a place I know while I'm in said place. Only upon reflection can I find my voice, and indeed, with increasingly fragile memory, I do find myself looking back to West Africa. And how could I not? For me, it was home. After two years, I felt as if I knew the people and knew myself within that culture.

But in Morocco, in North Africa, I am a stranger, and though I may hate to admit it, I am, in many ways, just another tourist. I never felt this unique difference in West Africa, despite being typically the only Westerner around. Cultural currents run deep in in the former French Afrique Occidental, so I felt that from Diffa to Dakar, Timbuktu to Tubmanburg as if I belonged, knowing as I did my own persona within an African context. Thus, I was traveler, even sometimes resident, not tourist. Tourist, to me, implies a certain naïvety, often seen as a walking bag of money who may know a bit about a place's people or culture, but often not much more than the superficial. More important than experiencing the place, tourists tend to shuttle from sight to sight, with limited time to check as many "must-sees" off their list as possible.

I wasn't a tourist in West Africa, partially because there are so few people who travel there who fit this description. The Sahelian zone is the poorest, least developed part of the world. Despite hosting at one time some of the richest empires in sub-Saharan Africa, the land left little behind as a testament to African wealth and power. So West Africa remains little visited, and you'd be hard-pressed to find many who know where Mali is, let alone someone who knows it hosted two of the European Middle Ages' wealthiest civilizations.

Tourism, at its best, can change this. Fifteen years ago, who would have known the architectural wonders of Fez, the seedy reputation of Tangiers, or the human pageantry of Marrakesh? Maybe those who read some of the beat poets who took advantage of the anything goes attitude of post-independence Morocco. But others had to wait for cheap flights from Europe. Now it's easy to take a weekend trip to see transvestite belly dancers in the Jma el-Fna or to enjoy hand-rolled cous cous with a view of the snow-capped High Atlas mountains. Hordes have taken advantage of this place's newly discovered accessibility.

Tourism, at it's best, opens up cultures in ways impossible to other experiences. It's one thing to read about slavery in history books or personal narratives; it's quite something else to see the slave castles in Cape Coast, Ghana. Seeing Islam represented as only a young man's hostile antagonism belies the gentle nature of a Moroccan father with his children. Hearing only about repressed, burka-clad women banned from public places in France ignores an upwardly mobile generation of working women who have money and know how to look good. One of the most interesting things I've noticed as someone who studied a bit of gender is the women's revolution modestly moving forward in Morocco. Women in the cities are finding many more opportunities in education and the workplace and are beginning to make their voices heard. Of course, the examples I've cited exist in the West, but as an unvoiced majority, one all too easy to overlook in a culture obsessed with political theatre and posturing instead of news, people interested only in entertainment, conflict, and "talking points." At it's best, tourism opens the tourist to a culture and ideals he/she may not understand at home. It's far easier to see the forest when you're surrounded by the trees.

Of course, tourism, at it's best, is usually simply called travel. At my university, we tried our best to instill the ideal of experiential learning in our travels. But in the end, we were still tourists. I look back now on those days as a learning experience for my present travels, so I guess in that regard, the whole experiential learning thing worked out. (You'd think, as an English major, I would have been able to connect those two thoughts...) I didn't realize how much I'd subconsciously picked up until I came to Morocco and saw the throngs of tourists who've just discovered this land thanks to Ryan Air. They provide a case study of what NOT to do if you want to truly experience a place. Read ahead and hope you're not here described.

What are you wearing?! This applies especially to Morocco, but I saw a lot of it in West Africa too. In Muslim cultures, modesty is paramount, especially for women. Like it or not, you stand out and can be borderline offensive when you bare shoulders, legs, and chest. Look around you. If the locals aren't wearing it, neither should you. How can you stand to stand out so? Don't you feel naked? Oh and one more thing: shorts were made for sport and the beach. There is really no other time when they are needed. You look stupid. Especially jean shorts. What is this? Did I miss the memo on reliving 1995? "But it's hot...," I hear you whining. Pants are no hotter than shorts. Get yourself a nice pair of linen slacks, and guess what, they're even cooler, as they block the radiant heat from the pavement, ground etc. I recently met a girl and we played "Guess the Nationality" based on dress and attitude. I hope you weren't one of the many Germans who should have left their lederhosen at home.

Put away the guide book. Lonely Planet. Yes, it's a great resource. I myself have one, and it was indispensible to my travels around West Africa. However, there is never any need to have it out while you're walking. The Lonely Planet: Morocco book has a distinct cover of the Fez palace gates which you can spot a mile away. It just screams "TOURIST!" And while that may not bother you, just think of for whom the next carpet seller is searching...you may just be that sucker.

Why are you taking a picture? It's a door. It's not even a very interesting door. I've seen plenty more interesting doors in my time. Hell, there's even a more interesting door five feet away. There are 5000 more interesting doors in Morocco alone. Are you going to photograph all of them too? Are you some kind of door enthusiast? If so, then I admire your commitment to a fantastically boring hobby. My favorite tourists are the ones who have the guide book in one hand and a digital camera in the other. One of the blessings of the digital age is a nearly limitless capacity to get the perfect shot. One of the tragedies is that most people now spend all their time getting any and every shot. I sometimes miss the days of film, where you couldn't afford to take thousands of pictures of walls, doors, and that speck of bird on the horizon. You had 32 shots, and every one had to count. Now I see tourists just walking and snapping as they go. I don't even think they look at what they're photographing. Forget form and composition, I'm wondering what the subject is even supposed to be. No, you can't take a good picture of the bright crescent moon. And no, that little Nikon will not be able to pick up the subtle lighting in an underground mausoleum. And for the love of God, stop taking pictures of artwork. Buy the f***in' post card! This goes to all of you who crowd around the Mona Lisa. Can we just take some time to f***in' appreciate the things in life that cannot be captured by technology?! What do you do with the literally thousands of photos you snap when you get home? Do you print them all out and bind them in an album? There's a good rule: snap only what you would pay to print.

There are more. This might become a recurring theme as I find more and more things that irritate the ever-loving sh** out of me. One thing that I do appreciate, after a long time on the road with French people, are Americans. I realize this is a non sequitor, but please, induldge me. This sounds kind of cheesy, but the child-like simplicity of most Americans is refreshing after so much travel. I'm used to Europeans who have the tendency to take their service for granted. But after meeting Norman and Jeanne in Essaouira, who introduced themselves and had a big, happy greeting for the receptionist at the hotel, I had to remember that that's not something I'm used to seeing. It's nice. It humanizes both the tourist and the local. Not only that, but locals always greet one another, so it's culturally appropriate as well as humanizing. And that's where true experience rests.