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My hope for this blog is not just to document my adventures as I prepare to retire from the College of DuPage but to offer you a chance to stay in touch. My children are long grown and on their own; my mother is doing quite well at the age of 90. I am looking for new moorings; a task which offers challenge and opportunity. There are comment features for you; and blogspot will alert me when someone posts a comment. I am still teaching Political Science at the College of DuPage for a couple more years. Please stay in touch!

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Casablanca

Last Days on Djerba

Staying on an island where fishing remains an important economic activity is captivating. The island’s offshore waters are too shallow for larger boats, so there are no cruise ships, no jet skis, or loud motorboats–just the trolling of small fishing boats with their nets or amphorae. The replicated pirate ships for tourists and ferries leave from the port at Houmt Souk. From the hotel beach, I see the occasional individual fisherman casting a line or, the last few days just off the coast, the buoys of a net (filet) arranged in a ring, attached to the shore with a cord, also trimmed with floats. A man in a wet suit goes out daily to check the net. If there is enough of a catch, a boat will approach and tow it to the port at Ajim for unloading. Then, an auctioneer will hold them up with one hand, the fish hanging over each other like a braided thread, and offer them to the highest bidder in a morning fish market.

I was in the hammam for a while again today (12/11/06). Two rooms, going from hot to hotter, with steam vapor diffusing between 30 and 50°C. During the gommage (exfoliation) afterwards, a masseur used a Kehsa mitt and olive oil-based soap, mixed with sand and water from the sea to remove old cells and toxins. Invigorating and relaxing.

No fishing boats are on the horizon today (12/12/06). No fishermen, and the fishing net has disappeared. The sea is too rough. The skies are cloudy, a strong wind, and breakers rolling into shore. They’re so wonderful. I can look out on the whole shoreline with barely anyone in view and see rolls of white caps, one coming in after the other, rising and falling in contiguous half circles–like the semi-spherical ruffles on an evening gown. Djerba is a relaxing, picturesque place; but I’m ready to go home for a while.

Casablanca

Back to the traffic jams and higher prices of a large city. Casablanca is the financial, commercial capital of Morocco, so is a bustling, hustling hub. I’m reminded that the city is on the Atlantic, as the waves are stronger and higher than those in the calmer waters surrounding the island of Djerba. The forceful surf on this western edge of the Maghreb is a first indication that a different mentality may be required. The beaches are muddier with protruding rock formations, a clue that this is a city of working ports and finance, not primarily a vacation destination. However, the oldest governmental building outside the United States lies not here but in Tangier, since Morocco was the first regime to recognize the newly formed United States.

I visited the Hassan II Mosque, the third largest mosque in the world (after those in Mecca and Medina in Saudi Arabia) and the one with the tallest minaret. Women worship in two balconies (mezzanines), edged with intricate mashroubiyyah screening. The prayer hall can accommodate up to 25,000 worshippers and has a movable cedar roof. All materials are Moroccan, except the chandeliers of Murano glass and pillars of Italian carrera marble positioned on each side of the mihrab (niche designating the direction of Mecca). Maybe, it can be compared to the National Cathedral in Washington, DC, a symbol of the spiritual aspirations of a country. Guided tours of the structure are given for visitors, who range from tourists to Moroccan school children, in between the hours of prayer. The brochure states that the Hassan II Mosque is a haven of peace, where all celestial religions meet–certainly an expansive interpretation. Such a construction of Islam befits an edifice welcoming international visitors, located on the mighty Atlantic’s coast and constructed on the edge of a cosmopolitan city. It’s definitely a paradox that terrorists have emerged from this same city. A signal that religion be used to serve various ends and has a difficult time bringing divine pronunciations to bear on this-worldly dreams and issues.

The movie, Casablanca, wasn’t filmed here; but it might as well have been. The film is still loved by many; and there is a Rick’s Café, started by a former foreign service officer. Maybe that's enough to get some of you to visit.

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