By Joanna Yip
During my spring break, I visited Marrakech, Morocco. My excitement for my first trip to Africa could not be contained, and it is difficult to fully express in words. I had heard amazing stories from my older brother who visited Morocco seven years ago, and I could not wait to experience it for myself.
Upon arrival, everything was different from America, or even Prague: the bugs, the trees and plants, the way traffic was run – everything. Our Airbnb host greeted us with kindness, and we stayed in a riad, a traditional Moroccan style home, that left us breathless. We explored the Medina, the walled area we were staying in, and were taken aback at how welcoming everyone was to us. They were eager to say hello, lead us to our destination, offer guidance and helpful tips and were just incredibly hospitable.
But those streets where I met some of the friendliest people were also where I also encountered a lot of racism. As an Asian American female, I knew I had to be aware of my surroundings as I would in any foreign country, however, in the three days I spent in Morocco I experienced the most racism I ever had in my life. People would point at me while passing in the roads and say “Ni hao, meow meow,” (imitating how to say ‘hello’ in Chinese) “Konnichiwa,” and other East Asian greetings. A few people asked me where I am from, and when I responded with “New York,” it was always followed up by “No, but where are you really from?”
Some of the people who had thrown these phrases at me said it with a smile and did not necessarily have bad intentions, perhaps they were trying to be inclusive, but even people with good intentions can still express internalized racism.
Another surprise that awaited us in Morocco was that our Airbnb hosts, who were brother and sister, unexpectedly stayed with us in the house. At first, my friends and I found it a mystery as to where they were staying, but we discovered on our last night that they had been staying in a very tiny room on the upstairs terrace. To give you perspective of just how tiny, I had thought that room was where the water boiler or electricity boxes were. While my friends and I were staying in a luxurious riad with a beautifully tiled dining room, an indoor pool, skylights, large shower rooms, and traditional Moroccan house decor, our hosts were staying in the equivalent of a small studio, with the refrigerator, laundry, and mattresses within mere feet of each other.
I noticed another disparity when it came to the treatment of animals in Morocco. We had signed up for a camelback riding tour, not knowing that the place we were going to treated the camels poorly. It was heartbreaking to see them being mistreated, and I felt wildly uncomfortable speaking up about it. Even our driver motioned for me to stop talking when I tried to warn my friend who was about to get onto the camel about the rope around its neck. I did not wish to offend the owner of these camels, but it was heart wrenching to look into the camels’ eyes and feel its shock when I showed affection by simply petting their head. It was as if they had never experienced such affection before.
Despite these things, I still found beauty in Morocco. I got to go quad-biking in the deserts, drink delicious fresh fruit smoothies and go hiking in the Atlas mountains. One of my favorite memories was when we encountered a random man in the Medina who showed my friends and I a picture of us with our tour guide from the previous day. We quickly learned how tight knit the Berber community was. People we met far away in the Atlas mountains were friends with people in the denser area of the Medina. Turns out the man from the Medina was cousins with our tour guide.
When I think back to my Morocco trip, I think of the insane views of the landscape: city, mountains, rivers and desert. I can’t help but reminisce about the sweet taste of Moroccan mint tea, the tajin chicken, and the freshly squeezed orange juice we had by a waterfall. I also can’t help but think about the sad look on the camels’ face, the young girl who said “hello” to me in Korean and the realization of where our hosts were living. It is a strange mix of feelings – of gratitude and sympathy, excitement and disappointment, and bliss and sadness. I still feel incredibly lucky to have been able to experience this corner of the world, it really showed me how much more there is out there beyond New York. Needless to say, this trip was truly a once in a lifetime experience.
