perfection

“This is the place where they invented the word idyllic.” – Mark said on our walk from the village of Moulay Idriss to the 3rd century Roman ruins at Volubilis. Moulay Idriss was founded by Idriss the I, also the founder of Fes and was one of the first Arab settlements in Morocco in the early 9th century. It was chosen sitting above Volubilis as it was decidedly more strategic to defend in the valley between two mountains instead of on the edge of an open plain. Within Moulay Idriss there is a mosque that was built in the early days of its founding by Idriss I to commemorate his kin, the prophet Mohammed. I was not able to visit as non-Muslims cannot enter mosques in Morocco. The town, until very recently, stuck to its Islamic traditions and did not let Christians sleep the night there, this was true so recently that in Phil’s 2004 travel guide for Morocco it says that it is impossible to do so, whereas my 2005 says that one can find a room to rent in a few places. There are no hotels in Moulay Idriss, only “Maisons d’hotes” , the Arabic translates to guest houses, but they are houses where people rent out a few of their extra rooms to travelers. We, with the help of a guide who we met on the edge of town, found one of these houses and bargained for a room that would fit Phil, Alex, Mark and I as well as for the price of dinner and breakfast that night. We paid about 120 dirhams each or about $15 for meals and a beautiful place to stay with a view of the entire city and the valley below from its terrace.

We had planned to visit Volubulis on Friday afternoon after we got to town and found the hotel, so we unfortunately had to rush the customary drinking of Mint Tea after a sale is made and we headed out on the walk to Volubulis. Most of the locals thought we were crazy that we didn’t want to hitch a cheap ride over there. I have decided that they are crazy for even suggesting such a thing. We strolled along the road, seeing the standard shepherds with their flocks of goats, sheep and sometimes a cow or two hanging around, as well as many families out enjoying their Friday afternoon, well the women and children sitting in orchards enjoying themselves. We decided to walk down a trail which we though connected to another road at that would put us closer to the entrance to the Roman ruins, it turned out to be a driveway, but the friendly proprietor of the house pointed us in the right direction along a foot path. The foot path lead us through the man’s olive orchard, toward Volubilis, and into a huge field of yellow flowers. The conditions were perfect. The sun was getting lower, it was probably 4 o’clock and the clouds were of the big puffy type, creating a powerfully dramatic skyscape and we could see for miles across the open plain. I asked Phil how far he thought we could see, after a lot of analyzing we decided the mountains in the distance that marked the end of the plain and the edge of our view must have been about 10 to 15 miles away.

We got to Volubilis, paid our 10 dirham entry fee, and started to explore the park. The grounds are massive and the ruins impressive beyond comprehension. There was an arc way that would rival the arc de triuph in Paris and ruins of a giant temple as well. The most impressive facets of the ruins were the mosaics that were uncovered. They were mosaic laid floors of the 3rd century depicting beautiful – the floor of the bathhouse covered in a school of fish, provocative – an image of a woman and her man, and amusing – one of a man riding a donkey backwards- scenes. These scenes, although dulled by their recent exposure to the elements, are intensely intricate and telling of the time period in roman history. Beyond their architecture and written word the mosaics show how the west influenced this area of Morocco and how their culture and that of the native Berber population became mixed at this distant, yet thriving, outpost of the Roman Empire. Beyond the sense of history I was experiencing it was amazing to watch the people there, a couple tourists who arrived on big busses, and then many families sitting together talking on the hill across from the ruins or walking around picking herbs and collecting them around the ancient structures. Volubilis was everything I could have ever wanted about a place, I had a strong sense of history, a strong sense of its modern function and finally as the sun started to set more an intensely beautiful setting.

It was Phil’s goal to see the sun set over Volubilis before we had come, he has seen many Roman ruins before and I don’t think he expected these ones to be as complete as they were, so he wanted to see them in a different light, that of dusk, this was an idea I had no problem with, but it would not be. We spent about an hour and half wandering the ruin as dark clouds were coming over the mountains to the east of us, not blocking the setting sun in the west, so we didn’t really care. We watched the east as a rainbow appeared coming out of Moulay Idriss, proving it was the pot of Gold we had already quickly seen, and as a more substantial storm came over the mountain a few kilometers away. We didn’t want to leave so we kept looking as the place emptied out, it was both stupid and a blessing. The rain hit hard and quick. The wind picked up and we couldn’t hear each other speak. We hid under some arches that were facing the right direction hoping to wait out the storm. It just got worse, we decided at one point to make a run for it. We sprinted across the ruins, hurdling ancient walls and splashing mud all over a group of retired American tourists who were struggling to haul their plastic hips up the hill to the parking lot. When we got to the parking lot there were no taxis left to bring us back to town and we had lost Mark. He had gone a different way to get out of the park and ended up taking refuge in a reconstructed olive press. We waited with a few shop owners who had been putting their things away, including locking their dog in the phone booth so he wouldn’t get cold, wet and sick, being in the rain all night nor would he destroy everything waiting inside their shop. From there we watched the sunset, through some of the heaviest rain I have ever seen. It was beautiful. I am sure at some spot in the valley below we, at Volubilis, were the start of the rainbow. We eventually called Mark on his cellphone to get him out of the park and the shop owner shared an expensive taxi with us back to town, the whole time the driver couldn’t see due to the hail that had started to fall along with the rain and the shop owner was ranting erratically about the taxis in town and trying to make friends with me at the same time.

We got back to Moulay Idriss and ran back to the Hotel, those who were out in the storm must have laughed as a group of crazy soaking wet tourists were running through their serene little town, yelling to each other so we could be heard and laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness of our adventure. It felt good to run. I had stayed behind to pay the taxi driver and sprinted up the mountain after my friends, it felt like I was racing again, in the pouring rain, free of any inhibition just plugging away as fast as I could to catch my friends. I got that sensation for about the third time that day that if I just opened up my arms and flapped a few times I would catch the wind and fly.

We made it back to the hotel, soaked and with no spare clothing. I had brought a few extra shirts with served us well, but we were all pant-less for a night. This only became awkward at dinner time when we were asked to dine downstairs where the family usually eats. We had to brave our cold wet jeans, but again, it was worth it. Homemade kefta tajine is incredible especially with a kettle of mint tea waiting for us as well. I have not had Moroccan food yet that has displeased me, something that comes as a great surprise.

In the morning we ate breakfast on the terrace under the morning sun, I could find no signs of a huge rainstorm the previous night, only perfectly blue skies. We waited around as our shoes and clothes dried a little more and then we went out an explored the city. It was the perfect city. We weren’t treated as tourists as we are in Fes or any other big city, where everyone thinks they can get some money from the white guys, but instead we were able to sit around and talk to a group of kids for almost a half hour. The city was painted in every color, unlike Fes’s old medina which is pretty uniform, giving it an organic and almost bohemian feel. It was a picture of urbanism in its truest sense, there was no access for cars in most of the city and it was perfect that way, people were walking everywhere, seeing each other and greeting each one along the way. We ate lunch in a croweded square as the city had its Saturday souk going and the people from all around ventured in to buy and sell goods. Most people were dressed traditionally in their brightest spring colors making the city vibrant and alive. We then decided to make the trek back to Volubilis. The trek was just as beautiful as the day before, if not more so. In the yellow field we had visited the day before now there were reds, oranges, purples whites and blues who had popped open after they got some water. My camera ran out of battery power so I made a list of the beautiful things I saw and wanted to remember; goats, streets, flowers, butterflies, shepherds, mud, rain and flying in the wind was the list that I stained my hand with in blue ink, they are all simple yet perfect little things that moulay Idriss and Volubilis gave to me over the weekend.

We made it back to Volubilis, but decided not to go in, we sat at a café outside and drank some Fanta Lemon, the best flavor ever invented, its carbonated lemonade, and eventually wandered back to town, got a cab to Meknes and took the train back to Fes, watching the sunset from the train and reflecting on our perfect weekend.