>Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator
(>Pictures at the bottom!)
…a few reflections on the last 90 days
We liked the Kingdom of Morocco very much. We still rave about the south, i.e. south of the High and Anti-Atlas, where we would have liked to stay a little longer and enjoyed the endless expanses more. But we couldn’t hide our enthusiasm for the north either; in the cities as well as in the villages, life is vibrant and, in addition to the landscape, the people were also very approachable. However, there are also other things that rather deterred us and made us think. There were things that made our stay a burden at times and we almost cut our trip short in the kingdom; but just, almost.
Begging
Who introduced begging in this country will always remain a secret. But today, the whole thing borders on harassment. The begging of adults is – more or less – within limits and you can deal with it relatively well. You can always somehow find a way to end the conversation and the situation resolves itself.
Unfortunately, the children – and there are more than enough of them – are almost a nuisance, both in rural and urban areas. To make sure that tourists really stop when they pass by, they simply stand across the road or lie down on the road and hope that someone stops. We experienced hair-raising moments and in retrospect we are very glad that nothing ever happened. As a tourist, you would have the worst cards either way, and if you did end up in prison, the conditions would be very miserable.
Or, you’re just standing somewhere and thinking that there’s hardly likely to be anyone around, when suddenly at least 10 little eyes are staring at the stranger. If you want to enjoy a cup of tea or coffee and the innkeeper is not around, you will be asked: ‘Monsieur, donnez-moi un stylo…’ etc. The boys usually asked questions more quickly than the girls and the request was quite clear. They usually asked for a ballpoint pen, followed by food and, almost as a matter of course, money, preferably in euros. We were rarely able to engage in a conversation, as they only knew their native languages and the French vocabulary was limited to the imperative. And they had plenty of time; if you didn’t immediately respond to their request, they would sit down right next to us and wait; surely the stranger would give in at some point. Sometimes it was so exhausting that we fled!
Traffic
Moroccans drive like there is no tomorrow and they are always on the road fast. Their blind trust that everything will somehow go well and that a protective hand will always guide them in the right direction must be huge. Overtaking manoeuvres in front of blind spots are almost the norm. They also drive wherever there is space – passing on the left or right – plays a rather subordinate role. And then the most important thing: the stronger one almost always has the right of way, no matter where they are coming from. Taxis and minibuses always have priority and are the kings of the road. They have all the rights everywhere and their driving style must be taken into account accordingly. They can stop in the middle of the road at any time and without any warning; the people waving at the side of the road were always a helpful indication for us that something could happen at any moment.
With so many workshops on the road, we often had to doubt whether the vehicles in this country are really in good condition. As long as the engine is running and whoever brakes loses anyway.
People and animals are almost omnipresent on the roads at all times of the day. Even motorways can be crossed by a flock of sheep and are almost a Moroccan matter of course. Pedestrians also walk exclusively on the road, even though there is a pavement for them.
In any case, in the almost three months and thousands of kilometres, we have experienced quite a few situations where we had to say afterwards; phew, it all went well again!
Waste
Actually, the saddest thing in this beautiful country; plastic waste is everywhere and everything that can no longer be used is simply disposed of behind the house or on the opposite side of the street. We kept asking ourselves whether people don’t find it disturbing to live right next to their own rubbish. Whole fields are polluted with rubbish, mainly plastic waste, while a shepherd drives his herd of goats across the field and the animals find their food between the plastic bags.
Entire river courses are also misused as landfills; the next flood will certainly take over the disposal. What is then washed into the sea can be found at any time on the wonderful and lonely sandy beaches, which unfortunately – slowly but surely – are being littered with all kinds of plastic.
Cities like Rabat or Tangier prove the opposite and an army of city cleaners work daily to keep the city clean. We don’t know what happens to all the rubbish, but north of Sale there is currently a mountain of rubbish where, among other things, storks poke around in the mountain of rubbish and much of it is carried out into the wide world again by the wind. Is this the recycling cycle in Morocco?
Begging
Traffic
Waste
>Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator