From my initial visitor to yesterday, one could categorize my time in Ifrane thus far as little more than monkey business. Though not entirely false, it would not be entirely true either; however, for the sake of your reading, I'll dismiss the latter by simply saying that the time has come to complete some administrative requirements.
So, onto the former! Evenings are lively here, despite Ifrane's reduced meager population. For this campus town, a good chunk of the student population's been missing since the university's graduations in May. But, more than enough locals remain, and most of them can be met while they make laps around the town's tiny square...which happens to be located out my front door.
Once the sun falls to the other side of our mountain reprieve's western hills, hundreds of parents, kids and teenagers converge on the 50-meter long square. Music fills the air under which children participate in small soccer games and groups of teenagers mill around looking for open benches to greet their skinny backsides. For three or four hours, if you need to be seen you best make your way to the party!
A small group that I made my way over to the other evening included one of the restaurant owners and his family and friends. Eager to greet an outsider and even more patient while carrying on conversations in a mix of Arabic, Darija and English, my new mates were a good representation of what I've seen over the past seven or so months: welcoming, tolerant, friendly and curious.
Our conversations ranged between the university, travel abroad and religion. Most enjoyable was hearing the perspective of one of the undergrads, as he offered his understanding of the three connected religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) and potential reasons for their continued uneasy relationships. Soon enough though, the idea of talk dulled most of the group, and the idea of making a trip down to the park to see the monkeys was raised.
A short time later, we unloaded the car and set out to see some of North Africa's thriving Barbary ape populations. After shoeing away unwanted horse ride peddlers, we made our way up a short cedar-covered slope littered with discarded wrappers, water bottles and cigarette butts. Amidst the refuge, a small matriarch of monkeys scampered about, jumping from tree to tree, accepting handouts and posing for pictures.
Though our stay was limited, a couple things that we just don't see too much in the states caught my attention. First, the unprotected wildlife. Though there was some semblance of permanent presence at the "sanctuary," it was unofficial at best, composed of merchants and peddlers. No government involvement was witnessed, leaving the monkeys to fend for themselves within touching range of visitors. Although they appeared to do just fine, I couldn't help but think what kind of limitations the US or a state government would impose to protect the little fellows.
Second, also along the lines of protection, regarded the sad state of one of the oldest - and biggest - cedars in the area. Stark bone white and having died at least ten years ago, the "Geodue" Cedar was anchored in the middle of the gravel parking lot / road. Unprotected and graffiti'd along its base with names written in every color of the rainbow, it was upsetting to be informed that the only reason why this tree died was because that's what old things do, they die. Not convinced, I couldn't help but wonder what state the tree would be in if there was some type of fence around it and locals were prohibited from tattooing their names around its base.
Despite the environmental indifference, the park still held more than enough charm that shouldn't be ignored if one finds their way to Morocco's Middle Atlas, just as long as one leave's his or her Sharpie at home...
*On the shameless plug note, all pages atop the site (Military Monday, Middle East Tuesday, Arabic Wednesday and Thursday PT) are up and running. I'm interested in your feedback, so if you have any please send me why via the site, FB or email!
So, onto the former! Evenings are lively here, despite Ifrane's reduced meager population. For this campus town, a good chunk of the student population's been missing since the university's graduations in May. But, more than enough locals remain, and most of them can be met while they make laps around the town's tiny square...which happens to be located out my front door.
Once the sun falls to the other side of our mountain reprieve's western hills, hundreds of parents, kids and teenagers converge on the 50-meter long square. Music fills the air under which children participate in small soccer games and groups of teenagers mill around looking for open benches to greet their skinny backsides. For three or four hours, if you need to be seen you best make your way to the party!
A small group that I made my way over to the other evening included one of the restaurant owners and his family and friends. Eager to greet an outsider and even more patient while carrying on conversations in a mix of Arabic, Darija and English, my new mates were a good representation of what I've seen over the past seven or so months: welcoming, tolerant, friendly and curious.
Our conversations ranged between the university, travel abroad and religion. Most enjoyable was hearing the perspective of one of the undergrads, as he offered his understanding of the three connected religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) and potential reasons for their continued uneasy relationships. Soon enough though, the idea of talk dulled most of the group, and the idea of making a trip down to the park to see the monkeys was raised.
A short time later, we unloaded the car and set out to see some of North Africa's thriving Barbary ape populations. After shoeing away unwanted horse ride peddlers, we made our way up a short cedar-covered slope littered with discarded wrappers, water bottles and cigarette butts. Amidst the refuge, a small matriarch of monkeys scampered about, jumping from tree to tree, accepting handouts and posing for pictures.
Officially the Barbary Macaque, the species is common in North Africa and hosts a small troop in Gibralter.
Dwelling in forests of cedar, pine and oak, the matriarchs can be found at higher elevations above 2,100 meters.
The mating season runs from November through March. After a gestation period of 147 to 192 days, typically one baby per female is born; twins are a rarity.
The monkeys reach maturity at 3 to 4 years of age, and may live for 20 years or more.
My buddy, Adam, expending one of his precious 25 non-digital photos!
One of the larger males strolling in the shadows.
A mother climbing up to one of her little ones.
Though our stay was limited, a couple things that we just don't see too much in the states caught my attention. First, the unprotected wildlife. Though there was some semblance of permanent presence at the "sanctuary," it was unofficial at best, composed of merchants and peddlers. No government involvement was witnessed, leaving the monkeys to fend for themselves within touching range of visitors. Although they appeared to do just fine, I couldn't help but think what kind of limitations the US or a state government would impose to protect the little fellows.
The oldest cedar in the group surrounded by a few interested kids on a class trip...
...and more aspiring artists who want to be remembered. That little girl just knows she's guilty!
Second, also along the lines of protection, regarded the sad state of one of the oldest - and biggest - cedars in the area. Stark bone white and having died at least ten years ago, the "Geodue" Cedar was anchored in the middle of the gravel parking lot / road. Unprotected and graffiti'd along its base with names written in every color of the rainbow, it was upsetting to be informed that the only reason why this tree died was because that's what old things do, they die. Not convinced, I couldn't help but wonder what state the tree would be in if there was some type of fence around it and locals were prohibited from tattooing their names around its base.
Despite the environmental indifference, the park still held more than enough charm that shouldn't be ignored if one finds their way to Morocco's Middle Atlas, just as long as one leave's his or her Sharpie at home...
*On the shameless plug note, all pages atop the site (Military Monday, Middle East Tuesday, Arabic Wednesday and Thursday PT) are up and running. I'm interested in your feedback, so if you have any please send me why via the site, FB or email!
