Kisses from Italian Nonnas and Sand Dunes in the Sahara Desert
“Are you Moroccan?” - the sweetest words a Canadian descendant of Moroccans can hear
Today, I woke up with the eerie feeling of being completely alone in a foreign country. My vacation-style kickoff to my travels has come to an end. My 2 friends have departed. I miss them. I’m so lonely. Help me!!
I’m sitting at a cafe in Casablanca, Morocco writing this (published a bit later from Tel Aviv). My family used to live in this city 60 years ago. More on that in a bit.
While my goal on this extended trip is to “slow down”, the first 2 weeks was anything but that. On purpose though. I have months of solo adventure coming up. The focus to start was to experience travel with my good pals, Cyrus and Joey. We slept minimally, ate plentifully, and said no to nothing. You get the gist.
What an adventure it has been so far! I won’t chronicle the entire 2 weeks. I’ll instead speak to 3 highlights:
Cooking fresh pasta with Nonnas in the Italian Countryside
Visiting the building my family once lived in Morocco 60 years ago
Playing in the Saharan sand dunes and drinking under the stars with native Moroccans
Highlight #1: Cooking with Nonnas in Italian Countryside
My 2 travel pals and I signed up for a cooking class called “Cooking with Nonnas”. We took a train an hour north of Rome into the countryside and arrived in a small, charming village called Palombara Sabina, famous for their olive vineyards.
There, we met Nonna Nerrina. (Nonna = grandmother in Italian). She has been cooking fresh pasta for decades using generational recipes. Her granddaughter decided to share her magic with the world and started “Cooking With Nonnas”, inviting travelers from around the globe to make fresh pasta with her.
Is it weird to kiss a stranger 12+ times on the forehead in the first hour you meet them? Maybe. But that didn’t stop Nonna Nerrina. She greeted us with hugs and kisses upon arrival as if we were her own family. How special that was in a foreign country! Eventually, many forehead kisses were given in return.
Together, we made fettucini pasta, bow-tie pasta, and ravioli stuffed with ricotta and spinach. All from scratch. We then sat down to eat the delicious meal we had prepared, cracking jokes with Nonna Nerrina and her companion Nonna Lalla with the little Italian we knew.
It felt like we had been personally invited into the home of a wonderful Italian family.
A fun coincidence:
During COVID, I did a pasta cooking class remotely with my team at work. We were in the US and the teachers were located in Italy. It was the same organization! I didn’t put it together until we arrived.
Highlight #2: Visiting My Family’s Old Neighbourhood in Casablanca, Morocco
Visiting Morocco through the lens of my family history has been little short of spectacular.
I’m half Moroccan. As my uncle will say, the good half. My family lived in Casablanca, Morocco - where I am right now - for generations. They moved to Montreal, Canada in 1961, before my father was born. My father’s older siblings spent the first years of their life here. Their entire extended family used to live here as well: my great grandparents, great aunts and uncles, cousins, etc. I’m the first in my immediate family and one of few in my extended family to return.
Both my Moroccan grandparents passed away when I was young. Nonetheless, their culture and warmth has been passed down to their grandchildren in many ways, especially in the food we eat and character we possess. I have always felt connected to them.
Equipped with the addresses of my family’s former homes, I set out on a search. Most of the streets have had their names changed, but through the magic of Google and some clever cross-referencing I was able to triangulate their locations.
I found the location of the building where my grandparents, aunt and uncle, great grandparents, and great aunt and uncle once lived. 60 years ago.
Much has changed as you could imagine. The building may have been entirely rebuilt. Nearby shops have been opened and closed. But still, I could imagine my grandparents leaving the building to run their errands. Or my uncle playing on the street corner.
I sat down at a cafe immediately across the street for lunch. 20 feet away. My server asked in broken English if I had Moroccan blood. I replied yes. He asked where I was from. I said Canada.
He seemed to have some burning questions. I recorded the resulting conversation in my journal:
I couldn’t shake the feeling of how lucky I was. I can only imagine how hard it was for my grandparents to be immigrants to Canada. They did it to build a better life for their family. I have enjoyed a pleasant upbringing in a great country because of their struggle.
As I sit here next to my family’s old home talking to a Moroccan man about his desire for a better life, I am reminded of what my family struggled to achieve that for my benefit.
Humbling.
Highlight #3: Sand Dunes in the Sahara
Picture alert!
The majority of Morocco was spent on a 3-day tour through the Sahara. We had a wonderful guide named Youssef and were joined by new friends from Slovenia, Scotland, the Netherlands, and Japan. An eclectic group.
On the tour, we drove to Merzouga, a small Moroccan village in the Sahara close to the border of Algeria.
First, we rode camels into the sand dunes.
I’ve never experienced terrain like sand dunes in my life. Large seas of mountains made of soft, wind-blown sand achieving heights of hundreds of feet. I felt like a young child playing in the sand.
Then, we watched a spectacular sunset.
That night, we arrived at camp with another ~100 travelers. We danced around the fire and had dinner. Then, everyone went to bed… except us. Me, Cyrus, and our 2 Scottish friends cracked open a bottle of tequila and beers to get the night going. As we sat and chatted by the fire, the Berber guides from the local village heard the ruckus and joined in. (Berbers are the name of the natives in Morocco.)
Next thing you know, we had relocated into the sand dunes with the Berbers drinking tequila and smoking local tobacco under the Sahara stars next to sleeping camels. They barely spoke English. We barely spoke Berber. But when you find yourself in the company of the Sahara and the brightest stars you’ve ever seen, you’ll find yourself laughing nonetheless.
The next morning, we woke up while it was still dark and rode ATVs to the top of a nearby sand dune to watch the sunrise.
By the end, our group of travel companions felt like family.
The group chat remains active to this day.
Next I’m making a pit stop in Tel Aviv. Might go to Turkey next? We’ll see. It’s nice not having a plan. You just go over wherever feels right.
An update: I’ll admit I have a bit of a plan. At the end of November, I’m going to the world cup in Qatar. Going to see Canada vs Morocco play. Please tell me who to cheer for, I’m confused.
Thanks for joining me on the adventure 🏔