Sun and Tolerance in Morocco: Learning to Play Golf in Agadir

Agadir, February 2004

Dear Friends and Family,

Greetings from Club Med at Agadir, Morocco. This is the third time I have tried to write to you about my travels. Writing on a laptop seems to be considered working (and therefore verboten). Each time I started to write, one of the Club Med staff (the G.O.s) has come up to me and started to talk. I tried to explain (in French) that I am writing to my family and friends. But it is to no avail. This evening, I have escaped to hide by the pool while the bar games continue inside.

I arrived at the Agadir Airport Friday night after a long series of flights (Prague to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Casablanca and finally Casablanca to Agadir). At the airport, I found a Club Med sign. However the man behind the sign didn’t look very much like the usual Club Med 20-something staff member with a big smile. He seemed to be in his 50s and have only three teeth. He showed me the counter to change some money into Moroccan dirhams and then took me to the taxi line, whereupon he asked for a tip. He was just a hustler with a toothless smile.

I wasn’t certain the taxi would survive the journey to the Club. The driver insisted on driving down the middle of the road, regardless of other traffic. However after a few misses and near collisions, we duly arrived in the center of Agadir. We drove past several dingy hotels and then finally arrived at a big door into the walled compound and other world of Club Med. As the bellman and I walked to my room, I smelled a faint scent of oil as if there were oil tankers nearby. I wasn’t expecting to like Agadir too much.

But as I went to bed, I noticed that I could hear the surf from my room. When I finally emerged the next morning, I found that I was on a semi-private terrace overlooking the beach and the ocean. For the following five mornings I spent hours lying on that terrace, taking a late breakfast and watching Said (the camel) and his owner walk back and forth.

The first afternoon I spent on the beach and wandering around the Club, but on the second day it was time to search out tennis courts. However the tennis club was outside the compound and it upset me. It was located in a newly and partially built community with no people in evidence. I have found in my travels that wealth made from suspect sources seems to be spent on buildings with high walls and shoddy construction. Such was the area near the tennis club. I finally gave up on tennis and headed for the golf course.

So these have been my days, mornings on my terrace watching the ocean and the camel and afternoons at the golf club, learning “the chipping”, “the swing” and finally “the bunker” (or sand-trap). Each day I have taken both the beginners’ and the advanced classes, trying to learn something in each. Of course one downside of learning golf at Club Med is that the self-reminders are also all in French as in, “Tournez bien les épaules.” “Turn your shoulders fully.”

Even apart from Club Med, I have quite enjoyed Morocco, although as the Club Med staff have reminded me, this is really the land of the Barbers, what we would call the Barbary Coast and what the French call the Maghreb. The local staff tell me of Morocco’s high level of tolerance, although I think that my habits are stretching the limit, as I sit by the pool writing on my computer rather joining the bar games.

I see the tolerance in many ways. Last night I decided to walk along the road following the beach. The sidewalk became a boardwalk and there I saw a little of Agadir. I found the men very handsome in their dark skin and black hair. They were all wearing a uniform of standard Western clothing of slacks and a short-sleeved shirt.

However the women’s dress was more diverse. The women seemed to fall into one of four groups. The first was wearing the traditional big loose burqa and scarf, covering head to toe. They were walking badly, not that it must be easy to walk in such an enormous robe. The burqa is so loose that in the wind, you can clearly see the form of the woman otherwise hidden from view. Virtually all who were wearing the burqa that evening had non-athletic shapes as if they had never visited a gym and played active sports as children. The second type of women was also fully covered but the robes were made of fine fabrics with interesting patterns. Their eyes were heavy with black makeup and their bodies were toned and fit. The third type wore veils with fitted slacks over their legs. The fourth type (all teen-agers) wore low-riding and tight-fitting jeans and no head-covering. In some families walking together, I saw all four types of dress. I asked one of the Moroccan Club Med G.O.s about such differences of clothing in the same family and whether it didn’t create strife within families. His responses was no. Each member of the family could choose how they wished to dress.

Such tolerance--and lots of sun--have made Morocco very welcoming for tourists. Similar to southern California, the southern Moroccan coast has the magnificent weather of the desert where it meets the ocean. Every day for the last week, there has been a gentle on-shore breeze with temperatures in the mid-70s. The people here tell me that the climate is moderate all year-round—with the summers not much warmer than the winters. Indeed my room has no air-conditioning and only a small heater. Hussein behind the front desk has been trying to sell me property along the coast. He says that the area 20 kms north in Taghazoule is even more beautiful than Agadir, more rustic and not quite as chic.

It’s been a lovely few days here. I only wish that I could have taken more time to stay and visit the area. My brother and one of his friends have driven through the Atlas Mountains to Marrakech and I long to see the sand dunes of the desert. But I leave tomorrow for an afternoon and a night in Casablanca before heading back home on Friday. Am just hoping to avoid the toothless Club Med imposter at the airport.

Sue