The Djellaba

The Djellaba of both Moroccan men and women 
The base article of clothing that makes up the wardrobe of both Moroccan men and women is the djellaba. This is just a long, loose fitting robe which has a hood attached. The woman's djellaba is usually brightly colored and is ornately stitched with various patterns and/or is beaded. The djellaba generally covers the wearer from head to ankles and, keeping with the principles of hijab, is meant to provide a look of modesty. But the woman's djellaba is becoming adapted to meet with modern fashions and, "are becoming slimmer and shorter" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djellaba. The traditional women's djellaba can also be considered a jilbab, "which refers to any long and loose-fit coat or garment worn by some Muslim women.
The djellaba's, "hood is of vital importance for both sexes as it protects the wearer from the sun and in earlier times was used as a defense against sand being blown into the wearers face by strong desert winds. It is not uncommon for the hood to be used as an informal pocket during times of nice weather, and can fit loaves of bread or bags of groceries", The hood of the djellaba, which is called a "cob," is also what distinctly defines it from the kaftan, which is simply a button-down cloak that extends to the ankles or, in modern cases, the knees of the wearer that does not have an attached hood.
Examples of the Moroccan woman's djellaba are below:

This is an example of the Moroccan woman's djellaba.

Another photo of women in a market in Casablanca wearing the traditional Moroccan djellaba robe.

An example of a Moroccan woman's djellaba. Notice the hood at the back of the garment. These are examples of how Moroccan women's clothing is adapted with designs and accessories to be more feminine. Such djellabas as the ones pictured above are very common in Morocco.

morocco culture,moroccan food,morocco food,moroccan cuisine,morocco beaches,moroccan meal,beaches in morocco,moroccan culture,hercules cave,hercules cave morocco

The Djellaba

The Djellaba of both Moroccan men and women 
The base article of clothing that makes up the wardrobe of both Moroccan men and women is the djellaba. This is just a long, loose fitting robe which has a hood attached. The woman's djellaba is usually brightly colored and is ornately stitched with various patterns and/or is beaded. The djellaba generally covers the wearer from head to ankles and, keeping with the principles of hijab, is meant to provide a look of modesty. But the woman's djellaba is becoming adapted to meet with modern fashions and, "are becoming slimmer and shorter" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djellaba. The traditional women's djellaba can also be considered a jilbab, "which refers to any long and loose-fit coat or garment worn by some Muslim women.
The djellaba's, "hood is of vital importance for both sexes as it protects the wearer from the sun and in earlier times was used as a defense against sand being blown into the wearers face by strong desert winds. It is not uncommon for the hood to be used as an informal pocket during times of nice weather, and can fit loaves of bread or bags of groceries", The hood of the djellaba, which is called a "cob," is also what distinctly defines it from the kaftan, which is simply a button-down cloak that extends to the ankles or, in modern cases, the knees of the wearer that does not have an attached hood.
Examples of the Moroccan woman's djellaba are below:

This is an example of the Moroccan woman's djellaba.

Another photo of women in a market in Casablanca wearing the traditional Moroccan djellaba robe.

An example of a Moroccan woman's djellaba. Notice the hood at the back of the garment. These are examples of how Moroccan women's clothing is adapted with designs and accessories to be more feminine. Such djellabas as the ones pictured above are very common in Morocco.

morocco culture,moroccan food,morocco food,moroccan cuisine,morocco beaches,moroccan meal,beaches in morocco,moroccan culture,hercules cave,hercules cave morocco

Berber Food and Folk Music

Berber Food and Folk Music
by Chris BeauchampThe dusty streets of Zagora feel very far away and very long ago. It’s hard to believe it was only yes­ter­day. The con­trast between the desert and even a small town like Zagora couldn’t be more pro­nounced. When the wind dies down out here, it is per­fectly still. Perfectly quiet.
The view from under our Tamarist tree. That’s another tam­ar­ist beside the dune. These trees are quite lit­er­ally the only shade to be had out here, and tend to grow only in the dunes.
We are about six to ten kilo­met­ers from the camp where we spent last night. It is about 30 degrees Celsius in the shade right now, and we are passing the hottest part of the day under a desert tree. Our young guide, Rashid, 28, tells us it is calledTamarist in French, “Lit-luh” in Arabic, and “Tashwoodth” in Berber. He doesn’t know the English name. Rashid is himself Berber, des­cen­ded from the desert nomads who once lived off the land in this area, but who have mostly settled down in nearby com­munit­ies since Rashid’s grandfather’s time. He speaks only slightly more English than we do French, which is very little indeed, but we’ve been getting along well regard­less of lan­guage dif­fi­culties. Hand ges­tures and our own search­ing French do sur­pris­ingly well, as we try various syn­onyms of what we want to say in the hopes of hitting upon the half-forgotten vocab­u­lary of long-ago French classes. Although it is now just the three of us making our way into the desert, last night we enjoyed the company of four or five other young Berber men, most of them Rashid’s age.
The bivouac encamp­ment we stayed in is design for some 20 to 40 vis­it­ors at capa­city, but we were lucky enough to be the only two. It is just past the high season around here, a time when the desert starts to get too hot for most. The camp includes several heavy wool Berber tents for sleep­ing, a per­man­ent squat­ter toilet out­house, and a com­munal tent for pre­par­ing meals and relax­ing among rugs, cush­ions and low tables.  Our mouths were water­ing as we sat in the com­munal tent (named, without a hint of irony, The Restaurant), smelling the tajine stewing in the next room and enjoy­ing tra­di­tional Berber music. Tajine is prob­ably Morocco’s most sig­na­ture dish (along­side couscous), and you can find it on menus through­out the country. A good tajine can be made from pretty much any­thing you’d put into a stew, and the best tajines use only the freshest local ingredi­ents; oil, carrots, pota­toes, onion, yams, almonds, dates, lemon, olives, and peppers are all common, though seldom found alto­gether in the same tajine. It can be a veget­arian dish, or include beef, chicken, fish or lamb. Really, any­thing goes, but what makes every tajine a tajine is the conical ceramic cooking dish, or swaoui, a proper stewing time of several hours, and the inclu­sion of the typical Moroccan spice medley: saffron, paprika, cumin, ginger, salt and pepper. The night’s tajine was served with bread, com­munal style in a large  swaoui in the middle of the table, and was very deli­cious. We were sur­prised to get desert as well: a heaping plate of watermelon.

The warm and invit­ing “Restaurant” at our first night’s bivouac camp. It was way cozier in there than in the harsh winds of the evening. The winds died down after sunset, and we enjoyed the first of several beau­ti­ful night skies.

Laura wearing her turban. The first night out there was unbe­liev­ably windy, so these things were neces­sary to keep the sand out of our mouths. In the coming days, they would prove to be the most import­ant garment we owned, provid­ing shade and shelter from the beating sun and reg­u­lat­ing our body tem­per­at­ure better than any single thing we did.
The music was a perfect way to bracket the meal, as our Berber com­pan­ions began to “jam” while the tajine was just getting started, and picked up where they left off after dinner. It impresses me deeply whenever I am exposed to a culture or family with such integ­ral music tra­di­tions. Although music is very import­ant to me, and I was a musi­cian myself some years ago, I was not raised in a par­ti­cip­at­ory music tra­di­tion, and its not nearly as wide­spread in our culture than in many places in the world. In the West, musi­cians are spe­cial­ized indi­vidu­als who perform their trade for the enter­tain­ment of others. Among the Berbers, and cul­tures with similar tra­di­tions, every­one is a musi­cian, and music is not some­thing to watch or listen to so much as to make together. These tra­di­tions will always be stronger in a culture where indi­vidu­als must depend on enter­tain­ing them­selves and each other, rather than being enter­tained by elec­tronic mass media.
But making and sharing music is uni­ver­sal; every culture in human history has folk music tra­di­tions. I think our easy access to pre­pack­aged enter­tain­ment in the West has trained us away from the instinct to simply go for it.
Anyway, Laura and I did our best to simply go for it, taking our turns clap­ping along, as well as playing the cymbals, beating the drums and dancing. I also tried the lute, but with a foreign tuning scheme, ten strings and no frets, I found it far more dif­fi­cult than guitar, and could only manage a few feeble notes. The Berber songs typ­ic­ally used a call-and-response singing struc­ture and although the words were unin­tel­li­gible to us, most of the songs were lam­ent­a­tions. The sor­row­ful wails in Arabic and (I assume) the Berber dialect of Tashelhit seemed to speak of tra­gedies and injustices borne out of the distant past. These were occa­sion­ally offset by more upbeat melod­ies, with the pound­ing rhythm of make­shift tam tams (drums) thump­ing into fren­zied finales. Other songs were instru­mental, led by the lute player, and seemed to include impro­visa­tional ele­ments based around a tra­di­tional song structure.
After some encour­age­ment Laura and I were induced to share the only piece of Canadiana that would come to mind, although I’m not sure “Barrett’s Privateers” has ever been accom­pan­ied by such African-influenced per­cus­sion. And I, for one, choose to believe it was that relent­less rhythm that drove the lyrics clean out of my head, forcing us to repeat the first verse four or five times before begging off at last in an awkward ending that seemed to leave our new friends unsure what to make of it all. They didn’t ask us to sing again after that, which was fine by me.

We joined in when we could. It was a great evening.

We were treated to tra­di­tional Berber music, by Daoud (right), and our guide Rashid (left), among others.
I’ve been in other situ­ations where the ease with which those present share and par­ti­cip­ate in music has humbled me, and each time it forces me to ask myself: “Where are my songs?” On T.V.? The radio? The punk rock clique I was into as a younger man? The other music cliques and genres I could have fallen into had I made dif­fer­ent friends? The folk music of cowboys? Of the mari­times? I enjoy these things but am neither cowboy nor mari­timer. Where are my songs?
These young men know every word, can join in and impro­vise on a dozen or more tra­di­tional songs, passing the main rhythm drum and other instru­ments back and forth at will, sharing singing duties as needed. For them playing together is a daily routine, some­thing to be savoured whenever and wherever they can come together in one place and time. These songs and the exper­i­ence of sharing them are central to what makes them Berber.
Where are our songs?

Our last meal. Before the desert at least. Bread, tea, con­fec­tions like jam and butter. That was pretty much it for break­fasts. You can see the Berber sleep­ing tents of the bivouac in the back­ground. We just slept in the Restaurant, as it was already cozy and blocked the sand much more effectively.morocco culture,moroccan food,morocco food,moroccan cuisine,morocco beaches,moroccan meal,beaches in morocco,moroccan culture,hercules cave,hercules cave morocco

Berber Food and Folk Music

Berber Food and Folk Music
by Chris BeauchampThe dusty streets of Zagora feel very far away and very long ago. It’s hard to believe it was only yes­ter­day. The con­trast between the desert and even a small town like Zagora couldn’t be more pro­nounced. When the wind dies down out here, it is per­fectly still. Perfectly quiet.
The view from under our Tamarist tree. That’s another tam­ar­ist beside the dune. These trees are quite lit­er­ally the only shade to be had out here, and tend to grow only in the dunes.
We are about six to ten kilo­met­ers from the camp where we spent last night. It is about 30 degrees Celsius in the shade right now, and we are passing the hottest part of the day under a desert tree. Our young guide, Rashid, 28, tells us it is calledTamarist in French, “Lit-luh” in Arabic, and “Tashwoodth” in Berber. He doesn’t know the English name. Rashid is himself Berber, des­cen­ded from the desert nomads who once lived off the land in this area, but who have mostly settled down in nearby com­munit­ies since Rashid’s grandfather’s time. He speaks only slightly more English than we do French, which is very little indeed, but we’ve been getting along well regard­less of lan­guage dif­fi­culties. Hand ges­tures and our own search­ing French do sur­pris­ingly well, as we try various syn­onyms of what we want to say in the hopes of hitting upon the half-forgotten vocab­u­lary of long-ago French classes. Although it is now just the three of us making our way into the desert, last night we enjoyed the company of four or five other young Berber men, most of them Rashid’s age.
The bivouac encamp­ment we stayed in is design for some 20 to 40 vis­it­ors at capa­city, but we were lucky enough to be the only two. It is just past the high season around here, a time when the desert starts to get too hot for most. The camp includes several heavy wool Berber tents for sleep­ing, a per­man­ent squat­ter toilet out­house, and a com­munal tent for pre­par­ing meals and relax­ing among rugs, cush­ions and low tables.  Our mouths were water­ing as we sat in the com­munal tent (named, without a hint of irony, The Restaurant), smelling the tajine stewing in the next room and enjoy­ing tra­di­tional Berber music. Tajine is prob­ably Morocco’s most sig­na­ture dish (along­side couscous), and you can find it on menus through­out the country. A good tajine can be made from pretty much any­thing you’d put into a stew, and the best tajines use only the freshest local ingredi­ents; oil, carrots, pota­toes, onion, yams, almonds, dates, lemon, olives, and peppers are all common, though seldom found alto­gether in the same tajine. It can be a veget­arian dish, or include beef, chicken, fish or lamb. Really, any­thing goes, but what makes every tajine a tajine is the conical ceramic cooking dish, or swaoui, a proper stewing time of several hours, and the inclu­sion of the typical Moroccan spice medley: saffron, paprika, cumin, ginger, salt and pepper. The night’s tajine was served with bread, com­munal style in a large  swaoui in the middle of the table, and was very deli­cious. We were sur­prised to get desert as well: a heaping plate of watermelon.

The warm and invit­ing “Restaurant” at our first night’s bivouac camp. It was way cozier in there than in the harsh winds of the evening. The winds died down after sunset, and we enjoyed the first of several beau­ti­ful night skies.

Laura wearing her turban. The first night out there was unbe­liev­ably windy, so these things were neces­sary to keep the sand out of our mouths. In the coming days, they would prove to be the most import­ant garment we owned, provid­ing shade and shelter from the beating sun and reg­u­lat­ing our body tem­per­at­ure better than any single thing we did.
The music was a perfect way to bracket the meal, as our Berber com­pan­ions began to “jam” while the tajine was just getting started, and picked up where they left off after dinner. It impresses me deeply whenever I am exposed to a culture or family with such integ­ral music tra­di­tions. Although music is very import­ant to me, and I was a musi­cian myself some years ago, I was not raised in a par­ti­cip­at­ory music tra­di­tion, and its not nearly as wide­spread in our culture than in many places in the world. In the West, musi­cians are spe­cial­ized indi­vidu­als who perform their trade for the enter­tain­ment of others. Among the Berbers, and cul­tures with similar tra­di­tions, every­one is a musi­cian, and music is not some­thing to watch or listen to so much as to make together. These tra­di­tions will always be stronger in a culture where indi­vidu­als must depend on enter­tain­ing them­selves and each other, rather than being enter­tained by elec­tronic mass media.
But making and sharing music is uni­ver­sal; every culture in human history has folk music tra­di­tions. I think our easy access to pre­pack­aged enter­tain­ment in the West has trained us away from the instinct to simply go for it.
Anyway, Laura and I did our best to simply go for it, taking our turns clap­ping along, as well as playing the cymbals, beating the drums and dancing. I also tried the lute, but with a foreign tuning scheme, ten strings and no frets, I found it far more dif­fi­cult than guitar, and could only manage a few feeble notes. The Berber songs typ­ic­ally used a call-and-response singing struc­ture and although the words were unin­tel­li­gible to us, most of the songs were lam­ent­a­tions. The sor­row­ful wails in Arabic and (I assume) the Berber dialect of Tashelhit seemed to speak of tra­gedies and injustices borne out of the distant past. These were occa­sion­ally offset by more upbeat melod­ies, with the pound­ing rhythm of make­shift tam tams (drums) thump­ing into fren­zied finales. Other songs were instru­mental, led by the lute player, and seemed to include impro­visa­tional ele­ments based around a tra­di­tional song structure.
After some encour­age­ment Laura and I were induced to share the only piece of Canadiana that would come to mind, although I’m not sure “Barrett’s Privateers” has ever been accom­pan­ied by such African-influenced per­cus­sion. And I, for one, choose to believe it was that relent­less rhythm that drove the lyrics clean out of my head, forcing us to repeat the first verse four or five times before begging off at last in an awkward ending that seemed to leave our new friends unsure what to make of it all. They didn’t ask us to sing again after that, which was fine by me.

We joined in when we could. It was a great evening.

We were treated to tra­di­tional Berber music, by Daoud (right), and our guide Rashid (left), among others.
I’ve been in other situ­ations where the ease with which those present share and par­ti­cip­ate in music has humbled me, and each time it forces me to ask myself: “Where are my songs?” On T.V.? The radio? The punk rock clique I was into as a younger man? The other music cliques and genres I could have fallen into had I made dif­fer­ent friends? The folk music of cowboys? Of the mari­times? I enjoy these things but am neither cowboy nor mari­timer. Where are my songs?
These young men know every word, can join in and impro­vise on a dozen or more tra­di­tional songs, passing the main rhythm drum and other instru­ments back and forth at will, sharing singing duties as needed. For them playing together is a daily routine, some­thing to be savoured whenever and wherever they can come together in one place and time. These songs and the exper­i­ence of sharing them are central to what makes them Berber.
Where are our songs?

Our last meal. Before the desert at least. Bread, tea, con­fec­tions like jam and butter. That was pretty much it for break­fasts. You can see the Berber sleep­ing tents of the bivouac in the back­ground. We just slept in the Restaurant, as it was already cozy and blocked the sand much more effectively.morocco culture,moroccan food,morocco food,moroccan cuisine,morocco beaches,moroccan meal,beaches in morocco,moroccan culture,hercules cave,hercules cave morocco

My experiences of travelling to Morocco and Marrakesh in particular

Morocco

I would like to add my experiences of travelling to Morocco and Marrakesh in particular. I took with me a headscarf and wore below the knees cropped trousers or a long linen skirt, coupled with ordinary t-shirts with round neckline. I found that I was not hassled at all by anyone there when I wore my headscarf and sunglasses – even though I was on my own and wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and have blond hair and blue eyes. I saw women of many nationalities wearing extremely revealing clothing and I was offended on behalf of the locals as I believe in dressing appropriately and respectfully. Another tip is to wear shoes that cover your feet and not flip-flops / thongs or sandals. The streets are not fantastically clean and the sewerage system was non-existent and so wearing shoes that protected your feet from manure are essential.
Abi, Cambridge, U.K.

The airline flying me to Morocco lost my luggage. It came on the next flight - 3 days later. As a result, I had to wear the pants and shirt I'd worn on the plane until it arrived. Pants are considered very revealing in some countries and here my outfit got me a lot of unwelcome comments. Men followed me and strangers touched me when I was in large crowds. I highly recommend packing a skirt and long-sleeved shirt in your carry-on when travelling to a muslim country -- just in case.
Melanie, Alexandria, USA

Moroccan men usually think that all Europeans are easy and therefore they feel free to pinch and touch. I discovered that for some strange motive they didn't bother me if I wore long black skirts and long sleeved black shirts (even if form fitting). The color black seems to 'cool them down.' And my hair in a pony-tail seemed better than loose curly hair.
Sofía, Sevilla, Spain

Travel in a Moslem country is very different from that in European countries. Fortunately, I was with a tour group and we were told what and what not to wear each day. No shorts ever, no jewelry, a secure money belt and bum pack for other objects. Moroccan men were very bold about touching and/or pinching foreign women. They followed us with their eyes wherever we went and so we had to appear modest and unassuming in public. It pays to be very careful and aware in Morocco. Children clung to us and held our hands as soon as they saw us -- maybe they were just friendly, but maybe not.
Betty, Vancouver, Canada
Ed. note: It pays to keep your eyes and ears open wherever you travel. A female traveller does best when she's not complacent.

During my month in Morocco, I wore long skirts and long-sleeved button-up shirts and was free from harassment (and sunburn!). Wearing more conservative clothing made me feel more respectful and less like a target. If you journey to the dunes, bring along a scarf or piece of fabric to tie around your face to keep out the blowing sands. Enjoy!
Lindsay, Colorado Springs, USA

My husband is a Moroccan and I have travelled there once with him. This is what I learned about culturally correct clothing. It's true that Moroccan women do often wear Euro fashion. However, please understand that if you wear tight or short clothing there is a chance for harassment. When I went there I wore pants and knee high skirts and men did make remarks even though I was with my husband. From experience I can say, my best advice is to dress modestly. If you are still attracting attention you can buy an inexpensive djelleba while you are there. They are comfortable and nice.
Janah, San Diego, USA

When in Morocco, some Western women have the idea that it's a strong political statement to wear western clothes, the likes of which you might see in a park or on a beach in Toronto or Vancouver. Although I readily call myself a feminist, I think the unisex Djellaba (long, loose coat worn over clothes) is a wise idea. Here's why:
1) You can easily string your money/passport pouch under the dress and while you can easily access the cash and ID via the slits in the side of your djellaba, a thief will have to work much harder for it.
2) If you get a thick or dark colored djellaba, you don't really have to wear much under it. Very freeing (also true of the chador and abaya)
3) If you put on your djellaba the first day, it looks like you've been there longer than you have and you're less likely to be hassled by hustlers.
4) For the same reason as above, you'll get better prices in the souk (unless the djellaba is blindingly new).
5) You'll never get to speak to any women, if you appear to disregard their culture.
6) It cuts out the "what am I going to wear today" stress that's a real annoyance when traveling.
And, besides, they're quite cool in the heat and beautiful as well, in the wide array of colours and variations on the basic design. Happy souking, ladies!
Buffy, Toronto, Canada

"Western" women are not expected to dress like traditional native Moroccan women, and indeed many sophisticated or foreign-educated Moroccan women have adopted European fashion styles. However, no matter how tight the pants or short the skirt, they always keep that collar bone covered up. Your vee-neck sweaters, even blouses, no matter how chaste you think they are, may be interpreted as risque, disrespectful, or inappropriate in Morocco.
Pamela, Minneapolis, USA

Advice: Wear loose clothing such as baggy pants or long skirts and a loose-fitting blouse or t-shirt. Not only will it keep you cool and protected from the sun, but it will lessen unwanted attention received by local men. Tight or revealing clothing always invites attention (the local women get harassed too); short pants are not worn by Moroccan women. Note: you will see all dress styles in the large cities in Morocco from total veiling to revealing. As a foreign woman you will be an attraction to the local men; wearing loose clothing will reduce the harassment. Remember that Moroccans are friendly, curious people who like to find out about you. Don't be afraid to chat with them, especially the hanout (small store) owners. Many people speak some English and will be delighted to hear you say a word or two in Arabic. Final tip: wear a wedding band and invent a husband if you don't have one.
Sheri, Rabat, Morocco

In Morocco, foreign women should try to buy a djelleba (traditional dress with hood, that so many of the Moroccan women wear). If you do this, you'll be very comfy and will not stand out as a foreigner.Covering your head isn't necessary as many women don't, but you can if you want to. If you dress to blend in, you will not be a target for the beggers and con-artists. Please note that Moroccans in Marrakech, Fez and small villages are more traditional then Moroccans in Rabat, Casablanca and Tangier..etc..
Bailey Varos, Erie, USA

Take along a large, long, lightweight, rectangular scarf is my best recommendation. I used it to cover my head or cover my shoulders in the souk, as a cover-up at the pool, it prevented sunburn and protected my hair.
Gillian, Castletown, Isle of Man.

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clothing for women traveling to morocco

clothing for women traveling to morocco



Moroccan Women's Clothing
Morocco Travel Information

Traditional clothing for women in Morocco consists of brightly colored, long flowing robes, headscarves, slippers, button down blouses, and, sometimes, even veils. This style of clothing has been cultivated since the ancient times of Moroccan history, and is still a part of the living tradition and culture of the country today. Typically, the women of Morocco continue wearing the traditional clothing of their forbearers without extensive variation or influence from the realms of Western fashion, but modern alterations of the historic Muslim-influenced styles of dress are rapidly creeping into wardrobes. Heterogeneous fashions - mixes between traditional Muslim/ Moroccan and modern women's clothing fashions - can now be observed in the streets of Morocco today, but the principles of hijab, the Muslim idea of modest dress, still prevail. There are various different articles of clothing that make up the Moroccan woman's wardrobe, and this paper is meant to shine some light on these pieces, as well as discuss the ways in which Muslim women's fashion has been changing in Morocco.






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Moroccan ceramics, food, fashion, religion and most important, tips on how to use a squat toilet

Moroccan ceramics, food, fashion, religion and most important, tips on how to use a squat toilet

by Laura BeauchampSahara Desert spider. This little guy crawled into our tent one night during our Sahara Trek. Our guide quickly killed it. After looking at the spider more closely, I was glad he did.During our 3-week adven­ture in Morocco, I noticed some inter­est­ing things that I thought I could share with you.  Currently we are in Bucharest, Romania. We just arrived here yes­ter­day after a one day layover in Milano, Italy and before that we spent a quick two days in Madrid. I will get some photos up of Madrid shortly. In the mean time enjoy the following.CERAMICS & TILESMorocco has tiles on some roofs that strongly resemble the ones used in Italy, only the tiles are smaller and are usually found in one of three colours:  orangish-red, blue or green.  After vis­it­ing a ceramic pro­du­cing town near Zagora in south-eastern Morocco, we learnt that green is the most common and tra­di­tional colour for not only roof tiles but also any shape that can be made out of ceramic, like ash trays, serving plat­ters, plates, sugar bowls and the infam­ous Moroccan tanjine pot.  In fact, green is the colour of Islam.The roof tiles in Morocco are very much like the ones in Italy. They are gen­er­ally green, but you’ll also see blue and an orangish-red.The many dif­fer­ent colours of the ceram­ics are pro­duced with primar­ily natural dyes.  The yellow ceram­ics are dyed with saffron, the blue with indigo, and the light pinkish-red with henna water and lemon. The green is made from a com­bin­a­tion of three things, one of them being copper. Some ceram­ics are fired once to make them off-white in colour, then they are dec­or­ated with nat­ur­ally pro­duced henna.   After one more firing in the kiln, the design is everlasting.FOODLunch and dinner in Morocco start with com­pli­ment­ary bread and a small plate of fant­astic fresh olives.  Salt and pepper are kept in small, com­munal dishes on the table instead of shakers. This means every­one must use their fingers to pinch the salt and/or pepper onto their food.  The pure lack of soap, toilet paper, hand blowers and paper towels in restrooms has led me to eating my meals without the aid of salt and pepper.A weekly market in one of the small towns of Morocco. If you’re hungry while shop­ping you can grab a roasted corn cob.ALCOHOLIt is almost impossible to find alcohol in Morocco, although it is avail­able. The local brew is called “SPECIAL BEER”, that’s lit­er­ally and actu­ally the name of the beer.It comes in itty-bitty 24 cl bottles. Roughly three of these bottles equates to one stand­ard Canadian bottle of beer.  The servers in one bar had a habit of leaving the empties on the table, there­fore making Chris and I look like extreme alco­hol­ics when we had accu­mu­lated 12 bottles on the table within a couple of hours.MOSQUESIslam is the main reli­gion in Morocco yet prayer call is not heard as often nor as loud as in Turkey. In fact, the call to prayer in El-Jadida sounded very dif­fer­ent. It sounded shorter and stac­cato. Mosques are not as plen­ti­ful or easy to locate.A large mosque in Tangier’s medina over­look­ing the Strait of Gibraltar. You can just make out Spain in the distance.The only indic­a­tion of a build­ing being a mosque is the 5–6 story square tower. There are no domed roofs, extra spires, or elab­or­ate dec­or­a­tions and tile work like the mosques of Turkey.  In a sense, the mosques had a much more humble feeling.WOMEN’S CLOTHINGYoung girls and adoles­cence wear western styled clothes like tight emo-jeans and T-shirt.  The major­ity of women and teenage girls wear head­scarves and occa­sion­ally you’ll see a girl as young as seven wearing one.  The women here must have huge ward­robes in order to have a head­scarf that per­fectly matches the long-sleeved shirt which she has to wear under the floor-length back­less summer dress. This is the attire of a very modern Moroccan lady in a big city like Meknes or Fes.The tra­di­tional outfit of Moroccan women. It is worn over their normal clothes, like a jacket.In nearly all the rural cities, towns and still within the larger cities the major­ity of women con­tinue to wear the tra­di­tional outfit, a long-sleeved, ankle-length, hooded, “jacket”.  Patterns and colours are limited only by the ima­gin­a­tion.  They come in pat­terns like leopard, zebra, bright red, green, purple, floral print, vibrant tur­quoise etc.The tan­ner­ies in Fez’s medina souk. This is one of the first stages in cre­at­ing the many fash­ion­able bags or purses for sale. The entire area reeked of death (like Brooks Alberta).MEN’S CLOTHINGThe variety of mens dress exceeds any­thing yet seen in the history of the Western world. Primarily men just wear pants and collared T-shirts, but you will also see men in thobes (a long-sleeved, floor length, white col­oured outfit, which kind of looks like a dress shirt that’s been tailored to the ankles), a jacket some­what like the ladies only without the hood and slightly wider cut and lastly some men wear long-sleeved, floor length, hooded robes usually dark brown or green in colour.A husband and wife stroll through the Eassouria medina souk together.When men are dressed in these with the hood up they remind me of the Jwa’s from Star Wars.  The hoods are very unique in how they point at the top and how the men fold them up so they can see.SHOESMoroccan shoes.This style of shoe is “very Moroccan”. All ages of people wear them.  It is almost as if the design of the shoe developed out of func­tion (like most things).  You know when you’re in a hurry to catch someone who just left your house, how you slip on your shoes really quickly flat­ten­ing the heals into the shoe?  The Moroccan shoe looks like this has happened to all of them, only the maker sewed down the heel in the squished down position.TOILETSCarry around soap in a plastic bag in your purse because 98% of toilets do not have any type of hand san­it­izer.  It is also wise to carry around hand san­it­izer to use before/after toilets and eating.   In Morocco , 95% of the toilets are squat toilets. If you are not use to these it helps to wear a skirt which can be easily lifted out of the way.Squat toilets are every­where in Morocco.To avoid as much spray back as pos­sible it is import­ant to put your feet at quite a wide stance, but even more import­ant is squat­ting as low as you can (without falling into the fes­ter­ing hole of waste beneath you!). My last piece of advice on how to squat prop­erly and come out rel­at­ively clean is aim. The better you are at aiming for the drain increases your chance of less spray back by ten.  Some squat toilets have a flush, some don’t. Look up and around for a string to flush. If you don’t see any­thing, I can guar­an­tee you’ll see a tap and a little bucket.  Without think­ing about it too much, turn on the tap, fill the bucket and dump it down the hole. This must be the most energy effi­cient flush on the planet, but now you see why I highly recom­mend car­ry­ing soap and hand san­it­izer. Toilet paper, very import­ant, is not used really in many places believe it or not.  Carry your own toilet paper at all times. Sometimes there will be a garbage bin with you and your squat toilet. If not, try to use as little as pos­sible and wash it down the drain with your little bucket. Do not put tampons down the toilets, you may really, really regret it.morocco culture,moroccan food,morocco food,moroccan cuisine,morocco beaches,moroccan meal,beaches in morocco,moroccan culture,hercules cave,hercules cave morocco