danielbaylis.ca

Dear Family and Friends,

I write you today from a crumbling 17^th Century Chateau in the south of France. The plaster is crumbling off the walls and there is a resident bat who patrols the grounds at night. It could be the perfect space for the most frightening of horror films or the most heartwarming of romances. Or maybe the world’s first horromance.

I’ll talk to Spielberg.

I arrived to France on Thursday, and smoothly transitioned to my host site in the stunning region of Averyon. This month, I will be helping a man named Nicolas in the restoration of medieval Cistercian monk’s tower. The region is famous for its red-stone buildings, delicious cheeses and the tallest bridge in the world. It is classically French, with little old men with berets sitting on benches watching the world bustle unnecessarily around them. Perhaps I shall take notes from them, and learn to be less rushed while I’m here. I figure some glasses of French merlot might help.

It feels great to be back in France, and as horrible/snooty as it sounds, back to the ‘developed’ world. Morocco was wearing me down. After a cleansing round of food poisoning, the consistent haggling of opportunistic vendors and having a crazy man spit in my face, I noticed an undesirable internal shift happening. I didn’t like the traveler I was becoming: guarded, cynical and a bit jaded. And as I write these words, I sense that there is some residual contempt.

Morocco kicked me in the balls.

*

I feel safe in concluding that Morocco has been my most challenging leg of this yearlong travel journey. One of my life creeds involves the importance of interdependence – “When I trust people, my trust will be returned.” But I felt like applying this doctrine in a literal-everyday-sense in Morocco would have been costly to my wallet and my sanity. It seemed unwise to automatically disperse trust.

For instance, one afternoon early in my trip, I was walking to the Majorelle Gardens in Marrakech. A brown-teethed man stopped me and told me the gardens were closed due to a religious holiday, but that I should check out a different set of gardens further up the street. I was perplexed, and decided to verify for myself; if the gardens were closed, at least I would know the route for the next day. I discovered that the Majorelle Gardens were indeed open. This man had lied to my face (probably because he had some sort of stake in the other gardens), and I felt saddened.

For me, it was a minor incident that triggered a core belief about how, as fellow human beings, we should treat each other. This type of episode seemed to arrive in various formats on a regular basis. On a daily basis I had to step back and question what was real, what was trustworthy, what was safe. As I made my way through Morocco I spoke to many other travelers, and they shared similar stories. Some folks enjoyed the enigmaticness and swindling as part of the authentic Moroccan adventure. Other well-travelled backpackers mentioned that the harassment they received in Morocco was unparalleled to any other destination they had visited. And that they had no intention to return.

But in typical pragmatic Baylis fashion, I’m hesitant to demonize the nation.  I think there are some really wonderful aspects, such as the stunning Atlas Mountains, the delicious food and the beautiful handcrafted products. If I return, I’d like to go to the Sahara region; the desert appeals to me because it is foreign from everything that is familiar to my green/mountainous Canadian senses. So if you’ve dreamed of traveling in Morocco, don’t cancel your plans. Just proceed with caution – a healthy level of suspicion might be the best item in your backpack.

*

Last night there was a party here at Nicolas’ French castle. It was a mix of fellow volunteers, community members and other assorted friends with fun costumes and foreign accents. We drank wine and ate from a table teetering with a selection of various quiches and local cheeses. And then, under a mirror ball, people took turns performing songs and cheering each other on. The evening felt celebratory and supportive and collective and easy.

And outside the stars were luminous in a way that I have not yet seen in months.

With love from France,

xoxo

Daniel

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