Weekend Trip to Andalucia

So after much fretting (and false alarms), I've latched onto my fellow student Justin's plans to explore the south of Spain this weekend. It's a four-day weekend in Morocco to celebrate its independence from France in the 1950s, so naturally traveling to Europe makes total sense. Right? Anyway, I definitely plan to take pictures of Granada, Malaga and/or anywhere else we end up this weekend. Expect more news on Tuesday or Wednesday (inshaa' Allah).

Interested in seeing what Morocco looks like so far? Check the new Flickr set.

Besara

I think I have found the Moroccan counterpart to the Japanese ramen subculture. It's called besara (بسرة), a simple greenish soup made from fava beans and served with half a round of flatbread and a steaming cup of mint tea. It's cheap, typically only 5 or 6 dirhams, and is enjoyed by all classes of Moroccan working men during the day. A visit to a besara shop is usually a grungy affair, and upon visiting one will notice that the clientele is strictly 100% male. The shop owner greets you and sits you down across from a stranger, and by the time you've grunted something along the lines of "salaamuh lekm" (enunciation is a no-no here), he's brought you your soup, bread and steaming hot sweet mint tea. The bread, of course, being your primary utensil, is placed directly on the table for you to tear apart at your leisure. A single shaker of hot pepper is shared among the customers, who stay rather silent while they watch the people walking by in their business suits and Jedi robes, sipping tea and contemplating. As you tear off pieces of bread and run them through the thick soup, you try to avoid eye contact with neighboring besara shop owners, who might shoot you a glare for not trying their nearly identical shop next door. The soup itself tastes something like pea soup, and to be honest I'm not quite sure what's in it. When the bowl is empty and you've sipped the last of your mint tea, it's time to get up and walk to the plainclothed man seated near the door next to a wooden box full of money. The price of the soup is negotiable, and it somewhat dependent on how much bread you eat and how stubborn you are with bargaining.

So how is this similar to the ramen shops of Tokyo?

• They are a dime a dozen in the city, although quality may vary dramatically. Often whole blocks are lined with them side by side.
• They are among the cheapest lunches in the city, appealing to working men on the move
• Communication in the shops is minimal, often reduced to grunted abbreviations of greetings and customs
  
• Pepper is provided to make it as spicy as you want
• Tea is an appropriate (and often complimentary) beverage
• Nonstandard utensils are used to consume the soups

Overall, I find the similarities of this "working man's soup culture" striking, given the numerous other cultural differences between Morocco and Japan. Besara shops attract men of all ages and classes, from poor old men in traditional Islamic robes to young, upbeat entrepreneurs in sharp business suits. In Japan the divide is more clear, with the businessmen clearly the clients of the poorer, sweatier, bandana'd ramen chefs. I wonder if things like this exist in other cultures as well. It would be quite an interesting anthropological study.

Finally, Some Photos!

You probably thought I wouldn't update this anymore, but until today, I didn't have much to report. Before today, I hadn't thought much of Fez. It just seemed like kind of a grungy city that was, apart from the noticeable differences in culture, not that interesting. But this weekend, I finally made my way over to the Fez medina, the old medieval walled city. Fez was once the capital of medieval Morocco, and is still known today as the intellectual, religious and spiritual (if not de jure) capital of the country. Its walled city is held by many to be second to none, and today I finally got to see it for myself. What an interesting experience. Time seems to have crawled at a slow pace here, only reaching into the future to grasp what it absolutely needs. It's quite odd to see a pack mule lumbering through the narrow, winding streets with several plastic crates of Coca-Cola, or to see cell phone shops peeking out of 900-year-old buildings. Or even to walk by what I know to be the oldest operating university in the world. Even now as I type this, I can still smell the dyes of the leather tanneries, where there has been little technological innovation in the last few centuries. Much of the main street resembles a chaotic bazaar, with deserted nooks and crannies inviting you to explore its secrets. Some of our companions sought out carpets, traditional bath soaps, or centuries-old copies of the Qur'an. I was just looking for experiences (and photo opportunities). I didn't get much of the latter, but what I did get will be posted on Flickr in due time.

In the meantime, let me mention what I actually came here to say, which was that I posted another set of Turkey photos on my Flickr account, this time of the ancient ruins of Ephesus. Enjoy.