So this is Ifrane!

Over and over again we had heard how much rain, mist, snow and cold Ifrane gets October through April. Instead, we have experienced day after day after day of magnificent weather... blue skies, crisp air, sunshine, and temps in the 60s and 70s. But after six months with almost no rain or snow, we all grew more and more concerned. The king called for a national day of prayer for rain several weeks ago as the whole country was experiencing drought.

Then on Friday I stepped out into blizzard-like conditions and said to myself, "So this is Ifrane!" All day it snowed leaving 6-8 inches on the ground. I didn't drive Friday, but apparently the town was in mayhem. The king was still here, and "...all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't drive safely because they come from the plain." I need help with my poetry. Anyway, the king's police and military were blocking roads and stuck in snow drifts all over the place because they come from snowless Rabat. To add to the mess, snow tourists flocked to Ifrane to catch a glimpse of the white stuff which almost never falls in the surrounding cities of Fez and Meknes. People covered the streets because the sidewalks were nowhere to be found.

Sunday, Ron and family came up and we found a nice hill and had a wonderful day of sledding (we bought a sled in Spain, rented one from the marche, and used all other kinds of remotely sleddable materials we could find), snowball fights, forts, and hot chocolate. The temps were in the 50s, but in the shade the snow hadn't begun to melt, so it was perfect.

The King is Coming!

For the last several weeks there have been rumors that the king, Mohammad VI, is coming. This was fueled by fact that the entire city was in preparation. Trees were being trimmed, all the road lines and curb lines were re-painted, buildings were cleaned up, Moroccan flags were set up lining the major road from several miles out of town all the way through, and a huge billboard with his picture was just put up at the entrance of town.

After days of "...is today the day?" it seemed that Wednesday finally was. So I made a lunch and took the girls down town to sit and watch with everyone else. The streets were lined with people, the town bristled with police and military, about 10 groups of elderly men dressed in all-white traditional clothing playing tambourines and singing were stationed evenly along the side of the road opposite to the people, the air was full of excitement, and our personal favorite - a huge group of fantasia horses completely decked out with their proud riders also in full garb rode so close to us I had to run to get Kendra out of the way.

We waited on a hilltop a bit out of the way so as to not be so conspicuous even though that soon changed with Katrina squealing with delight as she did all manner of running, jumping and climbing with some Moroccan girls nearby while we were waiting. The girls and I talked about how we are to get ready for The King to come. Katrina was quite perturbed to know that we don't even know the day.

After two hours of waiting and with Katrina's ballet class to get ready for, we finally had to go. Apparently the king and his entourage came about 2 hours later, so I'm glad we didn't stay!

The king is here until Friday - staying at the palace here which we can see out our window. When I first pointed it out to Katrina, she was terribly disappointed. "But that doesn't look like Cinderella's palace!" But it is actually quite grand, and it's lovely grounds cover one entire part of the city with about 5 entrances over several miles. Kendra is quite determined to go see the palace and the king. When I told her it is by invitation only, she said, "Maybe if I dwess up in a weally pwetty dwess and knock on the doow, he will let me in." I told her sorry, that wouldn't work. Later, as we were driving past one of the king's pictures, Katrina said, "We know what the king looks like, but we don't know him." Pretty profound, I thought. How awesome to tell them they can know The King and that His doors are always open and that we can know Him! They were quite impressed.

Ifrane was the former king's favorite city, and he came here often. Although this king does not come as much, it is still kept in a constant state of perceived perfection - for example, street vendors and beggars normally allowed everywhere else in Morocco are not allowed here. The university where Gerald works was founded by the former king and the Saudi king which is why the name means "The two brothers."

School Daze

Here is Katrina in her Jellaba and Moroccan shoes soon after she got them for the Christmas program.

Shortly before Christmas, Katrina started to cry at her Moroccan school which she attends three mornings a week. She said she missed her friends in Topeka. I think it was her version of culture shock. Until then it was like she barely noticed she was in a different country. But at school, she was surrounded constantly by two new languages and I think it just got to be to much.

The crying continued off and on for about a week, but with the help of prayer, talking . . . and bribery, she made it over the hump and got to the point where she did not cry.

But it still wasn't working - she was not responding to peers or teachers in school and was alone every recess. So the director had a good idea - put her into the 4-yr-old class. Here they do art and music, they have more introductory French, and there are two AUI kids who speak a little English (one of whom is Sarah, our neighbor). Apparently 5-yr-olds are too old for baby stuff like art and music. As he told us, "Kindergarten is serious," so they sit and write ALL day. The teacher in me growls!

Now Katrina attends the 4-yr-old class and not only is very happy there, but complains on the days when she doesn't go! A big difference has been having Sarah in the class. Apparently they spend the entire recess being chased by boys. That's better than yours truly who spent most of kindergarten chasing and kissing the boys . . . ANYWAY - since she is happy at play, she has been able to learn more in class. Life is much better with at least one good friend, isn't it?

The Dakar

The Dakar race from Portugal to Dakar, Senegal over the Sahara Desert has just been completed. The race included 132 bikes, 109 cars and 59 trucks who all raced through Morocco on their way to Senegal.

Waiting for the ferry back to Spain, we met a huge group of bikers (left - bikes) and jeeps (right) going with a tour group to follow the race first-hand over the dunes and through the oases to Senegal they go . . . The group was from Portugal and they told us they would never try this alone - you could die - but with a group, it was safe.

Two drivers in the actual race died along the way - tough competition and tough terrain.

www.dakar.com

Yasmine

Yasmine (where our name "Jasmine" comes from) is our little neighbor person just two years old. I can't not kiss her adorable face when she comes through our door. Her older sister Sarah is very cute too, but refuses pictures. Maybe someday.

Yasmine's mother, "Anna" has over the last few years had a series of three dreams where someone in white tells her to wear the head covering. So now she does, convicted completely by the last dream in December. Anna's mother wears it as most of the "older" generation do (her mother is all of 50 years old with her oldest being 37 - she was married at 13). But the rest of her family doesn't really understand her decision.

The decision to wear or not to wear the head covering is ongoing here. I have mentioned before that you often see two women (sisters, even) walking together - one fully covered and the other dressed in European clothing. Much of the time it is a family tradition, but there are also many who wear it out of personal conviction or out of fatigue of being harassed by the young men here. Morocco is very much a country straddling their religious roots with the strong European influence just a few hours away.

Duh!

Pictured - Kendra, Katrina, and Jonathan - acting out the story of the three bears.

Yesterday I was watching Katrina, Kendra, and their two best buddies - Amy (4) and Jonathan (6). Being the only boy in the group, Jonathan was wandering around with a soccer ball mumbling "Will anyone play soccer with me?" while the girls played their never-ending game of house and ignored him. I told him that I was very sorry but could not play with him because I had the wrong shoes on (slightly elevated).

Jonathan continued to walk aimlessly around looking forlorn in one of his three soccer shirts. And so of course, I gave in. How bad could it be? It's not like I would be playing with my brothers who turn every soccer game into full-body tackle football. Our soccer game was going splendidly (i.e. I was winning) until I twisted my ankle due to the shoes. As Gerald said, "You played soccer in high heals???" Not exactly. But they weren't flat either.

So for the last day I have been hobbling around with a minor sprain. I thought back to fourth grade when a boy named Miles came to school on crutches. We were all SO impressed, and somewhere in the back of my mind arose that desire to milk the injury for all it was worth and have the thrill of everyone feeling sorry for me . . . but alas, my silly ankle didn't even swell up. What a bummer to have pain but no evidence. Gerald was even teasing me of switching feet - "Weren't you just hopping on your left foot and now it's your right?" Later in the evening Kendra came to me with her doll's legs all askew. "What is she doing?" I asked - "She's hopping" came the reply.

Since Fatima Ezzahara is an athlete, she said she would show me how to massage and wrap my ankle. But she kept saying something about a man - what man? I asked - Gerald? ("Your man" means "husband.") A guy downtown? I kept asking her which man was to massage and wrap my ankle. Finally I figured out she was saying "ankle" and not "man!" I've had problems with these words before since they are so close. I asked a friend of Ron and Laurie's how her leg/ankle was doing (she had been having some pain). "He's dead" she replied. "No - your leg, not your husband!" I said tapping my leg. "Oh! She exclaimed," and thankfully we were able to have a good laugh.

Castles! Catherdrals!

(For some reason, no matter how many lines I put between my paragraphs or to start the entry in the draft stage, they often don't show up when it is published. Sorry for the run-on paragraphs - I really don't want it that way!)

Yes, between holidays and siesta times, we got in two cathedrals and one castle!

Spain has a rich history. Cadiz was probably the first city in Europe settled around 1100 BC by the Phoenicians. After a few Romans and Goths, the Muslims (also called "Moors") ruled Spain for about 800 years. Because of this connection with Morocco/Africa/Muslims, there is much of their evidence in the architecture, language, and even flamenco dancing.

In 1492 (recognize the year, Americans?) the Christian north finally got back control over all Spain. Many of the mosques built during the Muslim era were converted into cathedrals making for an interesting intersection of religions and their architecture.

Columbus set sail from Cadiz (where we stayed a few nights) for his 2nd and 4th voyages to the New World. Cadiz and much of Spain benefited immensely from the "discovery" of the New World and became very wealthy during this time.

The cathedrals were immense, grand, ornate, amazing. But as I looked up at the golden Jesus on the golden cross surround by all the glitter and finery paid for by taxes from the poor, I found myself whispering, "Is this how you wanted to be remembered, dear Lord?" It's hard to know how to balance the awe and the emptiness of it all.

We could never have pulled this trip off without all of Ron's planning and navigation - it's a real vacation when you don't even have to think! And so, happy to have experienced the parks, shopping, ice skating, walks, castles, cathedrals and horse shows - we had a meal on the beach (last picture) and then "set sail" back to Morocco the next day. It felt like we were coming home.

Decorations & Directions

Spain had some of the most wonderful decorations for Christmas I have ever seen. Street after street in Malaga had beautiful lights (by day - first picture), and many of the streets were lined with live poinsettias. Here are some of the cousins in front of a huge "tree" made out of poinsettias.

It didn't take long in Spain to figure out that everyone was there for a different purpose out of necessity or wishes. So here are the many directions our little group went in . . .

Ron (chief navigator): Map! Landmarks!

Laurie & Talia (11): Horse shows!

Jasmine (12): Malls!

Tamara (10): ice skating! (plastic "ice" skating rinks are all over!)

Nakoma (7): Parks!

Melody (3): Mommy!

Gerald and Julie: Castles! Cathedrals!

Katrina (5): Trees to climb!

Kendra (3): Cousins!

Amazingly, each wish was granted and we got to make everyone happy at one time or another!

Malaga

Our first stop was in Malaga, Picasso's birthplace. Apparently you have to be born in Malaga to be a cubist (thankfully, I don't have that desire). Here we are in a park there. Double click on the first picture and count how many people you can find. The next one is of Tarzan and Jane with more than jungle clothes on! These trees were simply magnificent.

We stayed in a church guesthouse so we went to their service Sunday. It is beautiful to hear God being worshiped in another language.

Dec. 31st and Jan 1st everything was closed so we had a hard time doing touristy things, shopping, or even eating. Then there is the siesta every single afternoon from about 1pm-6pm. Then they are open and/or awake until midnight or 1:00 AM. Aaargh! A friend of mine said they don't care as much about making money there. They are content with a little stuff and a lot of rest and fun. That is changing, though. Materialism is really spreading.

I have never seen so many people so dressed up in my life. High-heeled knee-high boots are all the rage along with very dressy clothes . . . everything but jeans. We felt like complete slobs!

The entire Southern part of Spain appears to have a lisp. "Grathia" and "Adioth" are some examples. It's like they have something against the letter "s." But I did find out where all the vowels that Morocco doesn't have are - they are in Spain! I counted several words 17 letters long because of their love for vowels.

We had been there less than 24 hours when we noticed that our dry, itchy, chapped skin was completely better. If we could only bring a tiny bit of humidity back to Ifrane! The weather was lovely every day with sunny skies and highs in the 60s.

P.S. there are 7 people in the first picture - Ron and Laurie's family without Abir (their Moroccan foster child) who could not come because her paperwork was not ready.

Ferry or Fairy?

When I told Katrina we were going on a ferry, she was confused. "A real fairy?" When I explained that this was a boat, she asked if it was full of fairies. Ah, the English language!

The port was quite confusing and we were very grateful for Ron and his language skills. There was no direction, no organization, no lanes, and no sense! When we finally figured out where to park, a guy asked us to move because a semi had to connect to his trailer which was right next to us. For some reason, the parking space was the same for the semis as for the cars even though we were boarding different boats. With open mouths, we watched the driver skillfully inch his way in through the maze of traffic and successfully connect to his trailer. It reminded me of those little puzzle games I played as a kid where all the pieces have to move in order to get the picture.

The ferry was running three hours late, so we were quite grateful when it finally made its appearance! Connecting Spain and Morocco, the busy Strait of Gibraltar is 8 miles wide and takes only 1/2 hour to cross with the very modern speed ferries. We all enjoyed the smooth ride and then debarked on Spain's coast to a much more organized port where we made it through the border quite easily and headed on our way to Mallaga through the mountainous coast full of curves and tunnels.

Along the way

December 30, 2006


I wish I would have had the girls count all the sheep and goats on the way from Ifrane to Tangir (the port - 4 hours away). The next day was Eid - when Muslims sacrifice a sheep or goat (see the post about Christmas). About one million are killed in Morocco on the big day and we saw many of the doomed creatures being carried, carted, driven or led on this part of our trip.

Dad and Elvis

Yes, that's right. Dad shared a birthday with Elvis. Both loved to sing, but rather a different set of songs. Though Elvis is far more famous, it is Dad who left an eternal mark on the world. I realize the picture doesn't match the title, but since I didn't have any pictures with Dad and Elvis, I had to settle for this one.

To remember Dad yesterday I played the CD, "Sixteen Singing Mennonite Men." Dad practiced with this group but couldn't go with them to South America because he and Mom were headed to Pakistan. The CD reminded me of Dad's strong, wonderful voice and the songs included several of his favorites. I am thankful for the love of singing and choral music he passed on to me. Several years ago, Mom and Dad made a little tape for the "Friesen Five" comprised of many songs they sang to us when we were little. That tape is a treasure now, and I like the girls to hear it to spark their memories of him.

I talked to Mom yesterday and she was doing well. She just got back from Winnipeg where she had been visiting my brother Daniel and family. She went for walks every day in the "balmy" -20 degree weather, did some ice skating, and hopped off a sleigh a few times! She continues to draw strength and hope from the Great Comforter.