Ever since we got to Morocco, we've been seeing sheep. Day one, we watched a bus pull up, a man get off and open up the baggage compartment to pull out 3 sheep. "Tu veut un mouton?" he yelled over to us. We laughed and waved back.... no thanks, we're good on the sheep.
Day two, I was waiting with the bikes outside a store and a woman walked up and said something to me in Arabic. As I looked at her blankly, a passerby intervened, said something to her, then turned to me as she walked away; "she wanted to know if they sold sheep in there". Ah, of course. The fact that she was looking for a sheep seemed much less strange then her decision to ask me about it!
A few more days on the road brought more sheep encounters, most of them very comical scenes involving sheep strapped sideways on top of cars and people dodging traffic while carrying bleeting sheep cradled in their arms like babies. Finally, someone explained it to us... Eid al-Adha, "le fete des moutons", was coming up next monday, just a week away. It's an important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims all over the world, part of which involves the man of each family sacrificing a sheep. Suddenly the scenes from the past week made sense! We noted the date and figured we'd better stock up on supplies sunday night, as no stores would be open on Monday.
We arrived in Meknes the next day, planning to have a day or two of rest before biking to Rabat. We hadn't ever wanted to go to Rabat- both being a big city and completely out of the way-but needed to visit the Mauritanian Embassy to get entry visas for the next leg of the trip. It wasn't until Wednesday that we realized our bad timing... With two days to cycle to Rabat, the Embassy closed for the weekend plus Eid, we wouldn't be able to get the application in until at least the following tuesday! With the minimum 48 hour wait to get the visas after applying, we were now going to be stuck in Rabat almost a week longer than we'd wanted.
So the next morning we left the bikes in Meknes and hopped the train to Rabat, documents in tow, to try to speed up the process. We arrived at the Embassy an hour early and there were already 4 other visa hopefuls in line. We all hung out on the sidewalk and chatted until someone opened the door, shoved some application papers out at us, and slammed it shut again. Good thing we brought our own pens...
After about 20 minutes spent trying to decipher the forms and translate the french for the Brits in line with us, we noticed that the door was open again and a mob had started to form around it. Apparently strange things like line-ups don't really exist in Morocco... you just join the mob until you see an opening and take it! Acting like a polite Canadian will get you nowhere.
We finally pushed our way through the door to a little hole in the wall about the size of a tennis ball, with a slot underneath it. I could see hands shuffling papers but not the person they were attached to. The conversation went something like this (in french of course):
Embassy Official to Steve: "Passeporte!! Application!! Photos!!"
-Steve slides his documents through the slot
"340 Dirhams!!"
-Steve slides the money through the slot
Embassy Official, noticing a second person standing in front of his little hole: "Vous!! Passeporte!! Appplication!! Photos!!"
- I slide my papers through the slot
"340 Dirhams!!"
-I slide my money through the slot
"340 Dirhams each! Each! Each!!"
Steve to Official: "Mais monsieur... I already gave you my money; it's right there, on your desk"
" Each!! EACH!!"
"Mais monsieur..."
He finally realizes that he does, in fact, have both our fees. A flurry of papers and stamping ensue.
Official: "15hr tomorrow to pickup"
Us, not believing the good luck of actually being able to get the visas back before the weekend: "Mais monsieur.. the sign beside us says you're closed at 12hr tomorrow... are you sure?"
"15hr!! 15HR!!!!! 15HR tomorrow!!!!"
Ok ok, fine. We take the slip of paper he shoves at us and run for it before he can yell at us more. Of course, when we return the next day, the Embassy is closed until Wednesday morning for Eid. Well, at least we got the applications in...
We spent the next few days hiding in Meknes from torrential downpours that threatened to collapse the roof of the hotel-no exaggeration- the housekeeper was actually squeegee-ing the floor of the lobby where the rain was leaking in. Even if we had our passports, we wouldn't have been going anywhere. We hung around the hotel, drank tea, and watched the excitement for le fete des moutons build around us. We even met one guy who had been keeping a sheep in his living room for 3 months! They were much less expensive 3 months ago, he told us.
The Sunday before Eid, there was a noticible energy to the air-the entire country was buzzing with excitement. Trucks were pulling up outside the hotel and emptying sheep into the street, men were dragging them off by the horns. The sheep seemed to know what was coming-we watched as they dug their hooves in and refused to move, making their buyers work every step of the way to get them home. Everyone we met was telling us about their sheep and about what tomorrow would entail.
On Monday, the day of Eid, we took advantage of the newly clear skies to start the ride to Rabat. As we passed through towns the celebrations were spilling out onto the road as people were leaving the mosques to go home. Everyone was dressed in their finest, laughing and waving as we rode by. We didn't get to witness any actual sacrificing, but throughout the day we saw multiple sheep bodies hanging up in yards and began to smell the cooking fires, and later the cooking meat!
We did get to partake in some belated festivities though. The next morning a man named Said found us packing up our tent in the forest near his house and invited us back for breakfast. There was no reason not to, so we followed him back to his house where we met one of the happiest families I have ever seen. We sat in the sun in his yard and enjoyed sheep kebabs and bread cooked over charcoal from his fire pit. I never pictured myself enjoying eating sheep heart, but it was so delicious it was hard to say no. In addition to the tasty food, the welcoming atmosphere created by Said, his wife, and 2 kids made for the nicest breakfast I could possibly imagine. It was hard to leave.... though we had passports to pick up, so eventually we tore ourselves away and got back on the road to Rabat.
As annoying as the Embassy had been the previous week, we were pleasantly surprised to actually get our passports back on Wednesday, complete with visas! No longer chained to Rabat, we started heading south to Marrakech. The next 5 days involved lots of pedalling, lots of sheep meat, and everyone we met saying "too bad we didn't meet you a week ago, you could have spent Eid with us!" Once again, Moroccan hospitality is taking very good care of us on this adventure... though I'll admit, I'm getting a little sick of eating sheep!
Day two, I was waiting with the bikes outside a store and a woman walked up and said something to me in Arabic. As I looked at her blankly, a passerby intervened, said something to her, then turned to me as she walked away; "she wanted to know if they sold sheep in there". Ah, of course. The fact that she was looking for a sheep seemed much less strange then her decision to ask me about it!
A few more days on the road brought more sheep encounters, most of them very comical scenes involving sheep strapped sideways on top of cars and people dodging traffic while carrying bleeting sheep cradled in their arms like babies. Finally, someone explained it to us... Eid al-Adha, "le fete des moutons", was coming up next monday, just a week away. It's an important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims all over the world, part of which involves the man of each family sacrificing a sheep. Suddenly the scenes from the past week made sense! We noted the date and figured we'd better stock up on supplies sunday night, as no stores would be open on Monday.
We arrived in Meknes the next day, planning to have a day or two of rest before biking to Rabat. We hadn't ever wanted to go to Rabat- both being a big city and completely out of the way-but needed to visit the Mauritanian Embassy to get entry visas for the next leg of the trip. It wasn't until Wednesday that we realized our bad timing... With two days to cycle to Rabat, the Embassy closed for the weekend plus Eid, we wouldn't be able to get the application in until at least the following tuesday! With the minimum 48 hour wait to get the visas after applying, we were now going to be stuck in Rabat almost a week longer than we'd wanted.
So the next morning we left the bikes in Meknes and hopped the train to Rabat, documents in tow, to try to speed up the process. We arrived at the Embassy an hour early and there were already 4 other visa hopefuls in line. We all hung out on the sidewalk and chatted until someone opened the door, shoved some application papers out at us, and slammed it shut again. Good thing we brought our own pens...
After about 20 minutes spent trying to decipher the forms and translate the french for the Brits in line with us, we noticed that the door was open again and a mob had started to form around it. Apparently strange things like line-ups don't really exist in Morocco... you just join the mob until you see an opening and take it! Acting like a polite Canadian will get you nowhere.
We finally pushed our way through the door to a little hole in the wall about the size of a tennis ball, with a slot underneath it. I could see hands shuffling papers but not the person they were attached to. The conversation went something like this (in french of course):
Embassy Official to Steve: "Passeporte!! Application!! Photos!!"
-Steve slides his documents through the slot
"340 Dirhams!!"
-Steve slides the money through the slot
Embassy Official, noticing a second person standing in front of his little hole: "Vous!! Passeporte!! Appplication!! Photos!!"
- I slide my papers through the slot
"340 Dirhams!!"
-I slide my money through the slot
"340 Dirhams each! Each! Each!!"
Steve to Official: "Mais monsieur... I already gave you my money; it's right there, on your desk"
" Each!! EACH!!"
"Mais monsieur..."
He finally realizes that he does, in fact, have both our fees. A flurry of papers and stamping ensue.
Official: "15hr tomorrow to pickup"
Us, not believing the good luck of actually being able to get the visas back before the weekend: "Mais monsieur.. the sign beside us says you're closed at 12hr tomorrow... are you sure?"
"15hr!! 15HR!!!!! 15HR tomorrow!!!!"
Ok ok, fine. We take the slip of paper he shoves at us and run for it before he can yell at us more. Of course, when we return the next day, the Embassy is closed until Wednesday morning for Eid. Well, at least we got the applications in...
We spent the next few days hiding in Meknes from torrential downpours that threatened to collapse the roof of the hotel-no exaggeration- the housekeeper was actually squeegee-ing the floor of the lobby where the rain was leaking in. Even if we had our passports, we wouldn't have been going anywhere. We hung around the hotel, drank tea, and watched the excitement for le fete des moutons build around us. We even met one guy who had been keeping a sheep in his living room for 3 months! They were much less expensive 3 months ago, he told us.
The Sunday before Eid, there was a noticible energy to the air-the entire country was buzzing with excitement. Trucks were pulling up outside the hotel and emptying sheep into the street, men were dragging them off by the horns. The sheep seemed to know what was coming-we watched as they dug their hooves in and refused to move, making their buyers work every step of the way to get them home. Everyone we met was telling us about their sheep and about what tomorrow would entail.
On Monday, the day of Eid, we took advantage of the newly clear skies to start the ride to Rabat. As we passed through towns the celebrations were spilling out onto the road as people were leaving the mosques to go home. Everyone was dressed in their finest, laughing and waving as we rode by. We didn't get to witness any actual sacrificing, but throughout the day we saw multiple sheep bodies hanging up in yards and began to smell the cooking fires, and later the cooking meat!
We did get to partake in some belated festivities though. The next morning a man named Said found us packing up our tent in the forest near his house and invited us back for breakfast. There was no reason not to, so we followed him back to his house where we met one of the happiest families I have ever seen. We sat in the sun in his yard and enjoyed sheep kebabs and bread cooked over charcoal from his fire pit. I never pictured myself enjoying eating sheep heart, but it was so delicious it was hard to say no. In addition to the tasty food, the welcoming atmosphere created by Said, his wife, and 2 kids made for the nicest breakfast I could possibly imagine. It was hard to leave.... though we had passports to pick up, so eventually we tore ourselves away and got back on the road to Rabat.
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| Post-Eid breakfast with sheep kebabs |
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| Steve and the bikes in Rabat |
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