The Americans and the Watermelon (and other adventures)

The Ruins of Volubulis

 After departing Chefchaoun, we hit the road and headed to two historical towns with very different histories.  But first we had to make the drive back south.  We drove back through the winding mountain roads, but this time in the opposite direction, playing chicken with oncoming busses, and finding just the right chance to zip around slow moving transports.  After stopping again in Ouzane, this time for only a tank of diesel, we continued south to our destination.  As we drove, the produce for sale alongside the road shifted from figs, to prickly pear fruits, to tomatoes, and finally to watermelons.  We decided to stop and get one from one of the stands in a somewhat crowded little village.  As we stopped and two yellow-haired ladies emerged, it seemed everyone stopped what they were doing to watch, apparently not a lot of folks like us stop in for watermelon.  We selected our melon, along with a couple of bananas, and took it back to the car.  Armed only with a pocket knife, I made quite a seen cutting it in half and was quickly helped by a fruit vendor bearing a much larger knife.  After returning half of the melon to the fruit seller, we gave his son a small pack of colored pencils and a coloring book which Anne received on or flight over.  Smiles and shukrans exchanged, we were back on the road, sticky from watermelon juice, but thankful for something to quench our thirst besides water.  

Driving the area south of Ouzane, heading to Volubulis, we passed mile after mile of harvested wheat field, and valleys of olive trees.  The locals farmers have an interesting method of stacking their straw in the shape of a large barn with a peaked roof, I assume it is to help shed what rainfall they do received, but to my eye it look like the barn simply disappeared.

The Roman city of Volubulis was founded between 100 and 200 b.c., and was one of the furthest outposts of the Roman Empire, at its peak it was home to more that 20,000 people, many of whom worked to make olive oil, as witnessed by the remnants of olive presses and storage areas.  The Romans abandoned the city after about 500 years and it was inhabited by Berbers until the arrival of the Muslims in the 7^th century.  The leader of these Muslims was Moulay Idriss, the great grandson of the Prophet Muhammed.  Idriss commissioned a town to be built on the neighboring hills, and much of the marble from Volubulis was take there to be used in the construction of the town.  Idriss is buried there, and his tomb is considered one of the most holy sites in Islam.  Until recently non-Muslims were forbidden to remain overnight in the city, though that has begun to change.  It is said that a Muslim who makes 5 pilgrimages or Hajj’s to Moulay Idriss is considered to have performed the Hajj, one of 5 Pillars of Islam, the others being, Charity, Prayer 5 Times per day, Declaration of Faith, and Fasting During Ramadan. 

We hired a guide to see the ruins of Volubulis, he spoke Arabic, and I was able to translate to Mary and Anne.  In Moulay Idriss, a man helped us find the overlook to the tomb of Moulay Idriss, and also showed us the only round Minaret in Morocco, whose mosaic tile work spells out La Allah Ila Allah, which means There is no God but Allah. 

After departing Moulay Idriss, we headed to Fes, the Imperial City of Morocco.  Despite a bit of difficulty finding parking and after a quick walk up a narrow alley, we entered an amazing hotel, Palais Amani, we checked into our room, rinsed the road from our bodies, and changed for dinner, which we ate in the courtyard of the Riad, Anne again didn’t make it to dinner, so we took her up to the room, and just opened the door to the room and told her if she needed us, just come to the balcony and call for us.  So so nice.