Swimming Around the World

Swimming across the border with Hakim, Marga, Bachir and Carlos

2010-07-06T03:31:00.000-07:00

CanalSur covered our Gibraltar swim

And this is the Strait of Gibraltar

Last week on the 26^th of June, we swam across the Strait of Gibraltar, together, as five swimmers from three countries in the confluence of ocean and sea. It was a momentous event that in many ways was the culmination of this past year’s events, where people that I’ve learned to love united under a common goal and dream. We wanted to be the first international team of swimmers to swim as a relay across the Strait of Gibraltar, and in doing so symbolize the power of international cooperation and the little that political borders mean in relation to the geography and health of our planet.

The team before the swim

Getting interviewed by Canal Sur

On our way to Tarifa, Carlos showing Hakim and Bachir what jamon serrano is

We had spent the previous night in tents in Tarifa, sleeping a few uneasy hours as our nerves stood on edge awaiting the morning light. I woke the crew, already prepared in my swim suit and goggles, proclaiming that it was time to swim to Africa. We ate a good breakfast of yogurt and fruit and granola and bread and juice and cookies and milk and whatever else you wanted, then packed the car and headed for the port.

Grubbing on some breakfast

Camping in Tarifa

The morning of the swim

Weather conditions were perfect, and we all thanked our God, because trying to bring together five people from three countries during a specific date with very specific climatic conditions is not easy. But we had luck, or faith, or God, or an angel, or whales, but most likely many of the above on our side, because on that morning the Strait of Gibraltar lay before us with glassy waters and no swell.

Hakim and Bachir, nervous on the morning of the swim

The beautiful calm ocean

The television station Canal Sur from Andalusia was there to interview us before our departure. The cultural affairs department of the US Embassy had contacted them to organize this, and the cameraman ended up accompanying us for the duration of our crossing. Hakim was especially nervous when he was interviewed, so much so that it made me laugh. Bachir just wanted to talk about La Culture Tamazigh (Berber Culture). Carlos and Marga were typically lighthearted and Spanish.

Hakim and Bachir, talking with CanalSur...in what language?

The only rough section of the swim- the first 500meters

I jumped into the water first, swimming 200 meters from the boat to the European continent, touching land and then heading south towards Africa. It was a moment filled with emotion- the nostalgia from last year when I had done this same thing on my own, and now the love of the family I’ve created over this past year. The love of Carlos, Hakim, Marga and Bachir. There was more. There was the joviality that diving into cold waters brings me and the excitement of swimming towards the depths of the Strait, where the water changes color and the expanse opens around. It was a moment of worlds coming together. Of Hakim and Bachir, my Moroccan brothers who have taught me the power of a detailed living, of Marga, who I love more each day, and of Carlos, a Spanish brother who has taught me how to enjoy without question. And as I began to swim, these months and experiences passed before me as waves and currents to match those of Gibraltar, and I couldn’t tell whether I was swimming or dreaming, or in Morocco or Spain or Peru or California.

Swimming to touch Europe

Now off to Africa!

We swam as a relay, each person swimming a leg of 30min. The pattern of currents in the Strait of Gibraltar is as follows: when the tide is rising, the current pushes east, intertidal lull is a moment of relatively weak currents, and as the tide begins to fall the current switches south-west. This is the theory, but the reality of the currents is usually much different (something I learned during my solo crossing the previous year). On the day of our crossing, however, we encountered these exact conditions and our plan of action worked out perfectly.

Relay exchange between Max and Carlos

Yeah El Bachir

We planned to reach the middle of the Strait during the intertidal lull where there were supposed calmer waters and thus better swimming conditions. I started the swim, followed by Carlos and then Marga, each of us successively swimming legs of 30min, moving away from Spain and into the expanse of the Strait. The water temperature began at 17 C and improved to a comfortable 19 C when Marga finished her swim. I had full confidence in Marga and Carlos- I’ve gotten to know the two of them very well over this past year and learned to trust them in the water. And while I’ve been training with Hakim and Bachir over these past two months, I was still worried about how they would swim in the middle of the ocean. But by the time we had reached these waters, the ocean gave inviting waters and under the heat of the solstice sun, even Hakim and Bachir were excited to jump in and swim towards their home country.

Hakim getting ready

Yeah Hakim

At first they circled our boat: ten to twenty pilot whales, floating, swimming and spouting water at us through their blowholes. When I saw them I started to scream and took off my shirt to jump in the water. At first I refrained myself and enjoyed the company of our baleen friends with Hakim, Marga and Carlos. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life. The waters were an illuminating blue, worlds were coming together, borders being swum across, and whales’ backs were glistening under the light of midday. A dream was coming true.

Swimming with the Whales. Oh Yes.

Pilote Whales

We love you

Hakim said that the whales had come to rescue our “drowning” swimmer, but there were too many whales for this to be true. Marga said that the whales had come because we had an angel accompanying us, but our angel had already accompanied us in the form of calm waters and little winds and bringing whales would have been too much work for any type of heavenly critter. Carlos didn’t think twice about where the whales came from and just thought that they were sweet. Bachir was too busy swimming with the whales to think about why they had arrived. But I knew that the whales had come because we had called them. But first they had called us.

Bachir, ackwardly getting ready to swim

Hakim and Bachir. TAMAZIGHT!!

CARLOS!!!

Hanging in the middle of the strait with the team

What country are we in????

They had called us from the staircase wall of a beach in southern Morocco. They had called us from the sunset when sat with fingers pointing to the horizon and mouths muttering in various accents “orca”. They had called us from the faded true love I once knew in California. They had called us from a world without borders; from oceans of clean waters and currents circulating to touch the coasts of each of our homes.

Our whale in Mirleft, Morocco

Marga!!!!

Oh the water

We called the whales in languages from three continents. We called the whales of two oceans and even the landlocked central plateau of Spain. We called the whales when we created an ocean and a land and a sky in a mural that is gracefully diving into the Atlantic. We called the whales as five people from three countries, together swimming across a border that we believe should not divide us.

OUR WHALE FLAG

In the Strait

At a certain point, a few of the whales left the boat and swam to accompany Bachir. Maybe they could see that he was tired, as Hakim said, or that our angel had brought them, as Marga thought, and it was obviously a beautiful sight, as Carlos saw it. But I knew that it was a mutual meeting that we had both wanted.

Getting ready to swim with our flag the last 200 meters to Africa

After the swim.

Carlos, swimming, swimming

When Bachir saw the whales, he stopped in fear and raised his head as if to ask if this was ok. I waved our flag and we all screamed for him to keep swimming. So he put his head back into the water and kept going, telling us later that he could see the whales under and around him.

Jumping into the water, getting ready to relay with Carlos

Our crew, in the Strait

I met Bachir in the water, exchanging an emotion filled hug under the high-pitched chorus of whale-song. I was very proud of him, just as I was proud of Hakim. They had trained hard during the past three months, and even though it was only a thirty minute swim, this was an accomplishment for them (and as a team, us), that they couldn’t have imagined a year ago before we met. At this point, I knew that they would both be fine in the water, but it has taken a lot of work to get here.

Max and Bachir. Meeting in the Strait

Hakim swimming. Look at that determination

I swam another thirty minute leg, this time in water that was warmer than where I had swum leaving the coast of Spain. Carlos continued for another thirty minutes, Marga for another few minutes, but soon enough we were only a few hundred meters from the coast of Morocco, and so at the last moment we all jumped in together and touched land as a team.

The relay legs. One person to the boat, another towards Africa

Max!!!

In Morocco

And we did it; we swam across the Strait of Gibraltar in 3 hours and 35 minutes, landing at Punta Cires on the Moroccan coast. For Hakim Bachir it was an incredible feat of athleticism and their opportunity to cross the Strait (wider when visas are needed) and see Europe. For Carlos and Marga, they had swim across “El Estrecho”, a word that carries the weight of history and fear, but also the potential of the future. And for me, it was a demonstration of the community that can be built across borders, and the continued confidence to follow my dreams and create!

Where are we?

Lunch after the swim. We cooked pasta with sea water....good thing we were hungry

Hakim. Tired on the boat after the swim

The Strait of Gibraltar....so wide, so narrow, one world, one water

Leaving Mirleft with Hakim and Bachir

2010-06-29T03:21:00.000-07:00

Jumping into the pool

Karmous gets some love in the sand

Chilling with "The Governor"

There was no going away party when we left Mirleft. No going for last swims, no last moments of deep reflection, nothing that I generally associate with leaving a place that I’ve loved. Instead I experienced a steady last few days where being conscious of my imminent departure allowed me to peacefully come to terms with the idea that I may never see this place or these people again (although I do imagine that I’ll return some day, but you never know).

Watching the water from Ahmed's place. Imin Tourga

MOROCCO

Our Mural

During my second to last day I spent an epic afternoon on the water, going for a long paddle and taking moments of repose to float and soak in the last images of the Atlantic almost-to-the-Sahara red cliffs. The water was especially warm on this last paddle on my second to last day, and the water was especially calm considering that it was the afternoon and there were already steady winds. What I felt were soft and rounded sensations- rolling waves, embracing winds, velvet waters, and radiant cliffs. I’ll love this ocean forever, I thought, remembering how an octopus Bachir caught at low tide spat a stream of ink on my arm and chest. When it happened it startled me at first, because I wasn’t expecting it.

Oh the Water.

Oh the Whale

Oh the Mint

And oh the Mint

I left my cat Mona on my rooftop terrace, and am hoping that the landlord will give it to Edgbeni, the kids who asked me to take care of the cat in the first place. She was a great cat that learned to trust me and sleep on my chest while I read. She also learned to play with Karmous, my faithful dog that I also left behind in Mirleft. I put a collar on her and left her in an open field to play with the other many stray dogs. I painted the collar in the blue of the whale mural and also wrote her name in black sharpie and drew a small design of a whale as if to say that the dog should be cared for with the love we put into the whale mural. I’m not sure why I care for that stray dog so much, but I sincerely hope that she makes it on her own in Mirleft.

We caught 5 rabbits at Bachir's house and ate them in a tajine

BEFORE

AFTER

EVEN AFTER

Now back to the cat, who had learned to play with Karmous, although this could simply be interpreted as the cat learning to tolerate the dogs wrath. Often times I would hear the cat cry as the dog carried it around the terrace in its mouth, or pounced in it with his two front paws. But the cat fought back, and in the end I think that she liked the rough play because as soon as I would take the dog downstairs, the cat would sit in the doorway and cry until Karmous came back. The cat would also claw and pounce on Karmous while he slept, or play quick tricks on him while he was eating. It was a beautiful relationship to have seen evolve since their first days when they arrived on my terrace as timid and malnourished critters and slept together in a cardboard box.

The lifeguards of Imin Tourga

Last Couscous at Bachir's house

After dinner at Bachir's

Bachir and Hakim had never been out of the country before, neither had they been on an airplane. Thus the first part of our adventure was to pack their bags and get ready for our trip to Madrid. For some reason we didn’t get together to organize our luggage until late on our last night in Mirleft, and when we did, it was a communal fiasco with seven people hanging in my apartment all telling us what to do. I actually think of this experience as a good-bye party, because the people that came that night to “help” us pack our bags were the people that I cared most for in Mirleft.

Getting on the airplane for the first time

Getting ready to fly

In flying with Ryan Air, we had to be very conscious of weight limitations. So when we were packing our bags we were constantly redistributing weight between one bag and another, weighing each with a hand-held scale that Rachid had kindly borrowed from a neighbor. At times it was overwhelming to have the voices of seven people all acting as if they had flown before and knew how much each bag could weigh or how many pieces of luggage you could take. I patiently explained that it depended entirely on the airline, but was often second guessed. Their words of advice were all out of love, but in the end I had to take charge and forcefully redistribute the weight of our six kilos of dates, or the eight kilos of wood paintings. The observers received articles of clothing that we deemed unnecessary to bring to Spain, along with some swimming material and even a few books.

Kicking it in the hotel room in Marrakesh

MADRID!!! We made it!

Once our bags were packed we went to Hakim’s house to say goodbye to his family. It was late but they were all there waiting for us. His grandfather Lahsen is a beautiful old man that always smiles and hugs me every time I see him. We communicate in a few, but emotion filled Berber words, that are exchanged in many orders and in various combinations. We say things like Good, Great, Waves, Swimming, Welcome, Food, Happy, Couscous, Eat, Thank You, Good Bye, Thank You, Thank You, Sit Down, Everything is OK. He was there that night to say Good Bye and Thank You, and I kissed his hands in recognition of his age, wisdom and still bright smile. Hakim’s brother Youssef was also there, so were his uncles Mohammed, Bachir, and Hussein. Hakim’s mother Rahma was also present, and she began to cry when I said goodbye. In that moment she loved me so much that it hurt, and all I wanted was for her to cradle me as a child. Instead I could only touch her hand and kiss my fingers and look her in the eyes and say that I would watch over Hakim.

Hanging in Madrid...getting some warm milk for Hakim

Dam. That is a lot of ham...especially if it is your first time ever seeing anything made of pig

The night extended itself into a last couscous at Bachir’s house with seven of his eight brothers and two of his three sisters. Bachir’s parents and his sister’s husbands were also present. We were a numerous bunch that sat on the floor and ate communally from a huge pile of couscous. His entire family was thankful for the opportunity I have given to Bachir, and if it hadn’t already become clear at Hakim’s house, it now suddenly became apparent that leaving Mirleft and going to Spain was for them something bigger than I had imagined.

La Puerta de Toledo...our barrio in Madrid.

Hanging with Marga in Madrid

We left early the next morning, with our bags filled with dates, wetsuits, wood paintings, swim gear, and clothes, and also traveled with my 11ft paddle board which made the trip a bit more interesting. We had to do the typical 40min shared taxi to Tiznit, followed by the 7 hour bus ride to Marrakesh. We spent the night in Marrakesh and took the plane to Madrid the next morning. Even though Hakim and Bachir were obviously nervous, it was a smooth trip. We even managed to take the metro from the airport to the center of Madrid, having to change trains three times with all of our luggage and my 11ft paddle board. Arriving in a small park near Marga’s house, we sprawled out on the pavement, looking like a group of refugees with all of their possessions in hand, and waited for her to come home from work. Now we’re still in Madrid, and having a really good time.

One last swim before crossing the Strait of Gibraltar

Dinner at Marga's

The Worldy Whale of Mirleft

2010-06-14T10:22:00.000-07:00

On the first morning we created the ocean. And on the first afternoon the land. On the second day we painted the sky. And on the third day we said our words.

Creating the ocean

The ocean-creating shop- my roof-top terrace

The cat got sprayed with the ocean

The idea began in October of 2009 when I first visited Mirleft. The main beach in town, Imin Tourga, is a beautiful stretch of sand that expands at low tide to revel smaller coves, all of which are protected on one side by gracefully bold red rock of almost-to-the-Sahara sea cliffs, and on the other side resides the Atlantic Ocean. To descend to this magical place, you must walk down a long flight of concrete stairs that are carved into these cliffs. On the side of the stairs that faces the sea is a large flat concrete face, in which I saw a blank canvass to paint a mural.

The wall before...but look for a hiding whale

Worked hands

Max Baumgarten, a friend from California, spent three weeks with me in Mirleft. I had told him of this mural project, and aside from his deep friendship company I honestly wanted his artistic help. Friends who know me well also know that I am not the most talented of artists, and the prospect of taking the lead artistic position in painting a huge mural was somewhat daunting. Having Max there is really what made the ultimate product so damn beautiful.

Max Baumgarten. I love you. Mirleft also loves you

Billy-goat painters

The obvious theme was ocean related, and the obvious body of the mural was a whale. The lower wall had the natural shape of a whale diving into the water already- its’ slanted back and arching tail could be seen in the stairs’ handrail, and the underbelly extended into the ground. There was even an eye and a blowhole that had been stained into the cement by years of rain and ocean exposure. The inconsistencies in texture and color on the cement were clear barnacles, or scars from battles with giant squid as Max would say. Even the color of the cement itself, a light grey with blotches of lighter or darker tints, is the natural color of a whale. This being said, it was clear that we were going to paint a mural of a whale.

The first morning...sketching out the whale

Thank you Mirleft community

I had begun the conversation of the mural with friends in Mirleft soon after I had returned in April. Everybody thought that it was a good idea, but because this beach is the biggest public space in town, and in the summer months one of the most visited beaches in southern Morocco, I wanted to exchange creative thoughts with as many people as I could. This was not only to improve the artistic possibility of the mural, but also to make the project more of a community effort- I didn’t want to just come in and change the face of the most visited place in Mirleft.

The whale is coming to life

Max and Max and the awaking whale

We decided to create a message with the mural about taking care of our natural environment, and wanted to use both words and images to do so. The whale aspect of the mural was something that I had come to the drawing board with, o better yet, something that was already on our canvas. There were competing ideas of what to paint alongside the whale, and our major concern to painting a bunch of sea creatures was that the wall would simply get too crowded and took tacky. You can see this wall from any point on the sand, and can also see most of it from the water, so if there were too many things on the wall it would only look like random colors from afar (which could have been a nice effect but not what we were going for).

The ocean is painted and the whale is beginning to swim

Thank you Max Baumgarten

We decided to keep it simply beautiful and paint one giant whale diving into the Atlantic ocean, that covered the entire lower wall, and who’s flippers extended into the upper wall. Its shape was already there, and we only had to bring its natural form to life. Inside the whale we decided to paint a world map, and on the upper wall we decided to write a symbolic multi-language message about caring for the environment.

Drawing the world

Of course the paint also goes on our bodies

After getting formal approval from the town Governor, which meant submitting s sketch of our design, we started painting on Thursday June 3^rd. Some people had told us not to go to the Governor, that we could paint the wall without any official support. This kind of made sense given that we were putting in our money and time, meaning that we weren’t asking the Governor for anything, but the space is too public to change without official approval.

Painting the land

It began by creating the ocean; mixing blue dye into a bucket of white paint, adding water and stirring- all on my rooftop under the already strong sun of morning. We then walked down to the beach armed with paintbrushes and chalk, buckets and paint, water and rags, and continued to spread the word of our project as we met people on the road to the sand. They knew of the proposed mural, this is too small of a town to have an idea without it moving through the streets and settling in like the everyday invisible dust. The insha allahs of when and what had given us room to create, and when we began to outline the whale in chalk, it was not only Bachir, Hakim, Max and I that were there, but a half-dozen others ready to help.

Re-creating the world

Team

With only a few lines of chalk to outline its body, Max made whale instantly pop out of the wall. He drew a wise head with a calm smile, and a lower body that arched up towards majestic flippers. And when we painted the ocean around the whale, you could see it boldly swimming into the Atlantic. People worked together, sharing buckets of the blue recently-made-ocean and used every brush that we had, which meant using large rollers, the mid-sized flat brushes, or even the small brushes for detailing. We then used a black to give the whale a large fin, a calm mouth, and an eye that looks like a wise mans eye from up close, and the eye of a teenage girl from afar.

Our world

Then I had to draw the world- inside the whale. To get dimensions right, I drew a few lines of latitude and longitude, measuring with a long tape measure. Using the pocket atlas I bought with a gift certificate I had been given by a Junior Lifeguard the day I left California 11 months ago, a pocket atlas that I’ve used as a travel guide and educational tool for me and for others, I outlined our earth’s land masses and islands. It was daunting, because by now there were over a dozen people involved in the project, all of whom were waiting with brushes in hand to paint the world. It wasn’t until I stepped back and the crowd rushed in to continue painting, this time with the yellow of our recently-made-land, that I could see the earth grounding itself inside the whale.

People loved the ladder

The first day of painting ended, 12 hours after the ocean had been created, as we sat on the cooling sands of sunset and admired what we had made. It was only now that Max and I stopped to eat the sardine salad that Ahmed had prepared for our lunch.

Taking a rest at the end of the day. Admiring our work

Hands-up

The second day was less glamorous then the first, but with the help of many it was equally inspiring. People came to paint on their way to or from the beach, some staying for hours, others for minutes. On the second day we could say that we painted the sky. The lower wall was the ocean and the body of the whale, and the upper wall was the sky. What this really meant was painting white the entire upper wall, which is about 80 meters long and 1.5 meters high. It was also a hot day, with a sun that seemed to never move from its mid-day position, and to paint the upper wall you often had to balance on a treacherously loose rock cliff. For most of the day we were Billy-goat painters under a hot Moroccan sun.

Painting the sky

Thank you Rachid! Rachid worked hard with us for 3 days

But it was Ahmed, the Patron Saint of Mirleft (as Max would call him), who was the man of the second day. Ahmed is a man in his 50’s who has the typical enlightened story of someone who’s completely left behind a life of drug for a more tranquil way of being. Now he spends his days taking care of a few beach front homes for the wealthy, but allows us full access to these abodes when the owners are not using them (which is 11 months of the year). Ahmed used a mid-sized flat brush to go around the areas we had painted and fill-in any missing spots. He did this all afternoon long, bending gracefully and painting methodically.

The sky shows sign of light

Ahmed, the Patron Saint of Mirleft

On the third day we said: “KEEP MIRLEFT BEAUTIFUL” in Berber, “POLLUTION KNOWS NO BORDERS” in French, “TAKE CARE OF OUR BEACH” in Arabic, and “TOGETHER WE SHARE THIS WORLD” in English. We wrote our words in the sky, using a blue of the ocean, and had to balance like Billy-goats to sketch and paint these words.

Hakim and Ahmed

On the third day we said our words

Deciding on what to say was not easy. Words are precise and the worldy whale says so much on its own. We placed Berber as the first language, next to the flippers of the whale, because that’s what the town wanted. They wanted to represent their culture, first, and have it in the foreground of the mural. What followed was French, then Arabic, and then English (this order had less reason).

Hakim. Thank you.

After the third day we were so tired and passed out in the lifeguard outpost

On the third day we finished the mural. More than the whale, we had painted the world. We had painted the world on a whale. We had painted THE WORLDY WHALE of MIRLEFT.

The finished project

Now the beach has a worldy whale

We got VISAS and I applied to MEDICAL SCHOOL

2010-06-13T06:44:00.000-07:00

If only we could all get along like my cat (Mona) and dog (Karmous)

We still try to keep some people out of some countries by imposing large hurdles to their travels. I believe that in many ways it is because we’re afraid that they might take some of what we, in developed nations, have, and that there may not be enough of THIS left for us. I believe that THIS is money, THIS is political freedom, THIS is security, THIS is the possibility of moving freely throughout the world, THIS is the opportunity to move out of the bottom tier of our global society and take on a more privileged position.

Harvesting wheat in Hakim's family's oasis plot

The Wheat Harvest

I don’t believe in forced inequality. Your born nationality should have nothing to do with how you can move through this world. Neither should it determine your comparative income internationally. Working eight hours in a clothing factory in Morocco should pay the same as in France. I understand that the world is changing and that ten years ago, or even maybe ten days ago, we couldn’t say this. But today we are TOO CONNECTED as a global society to maintain such inequality. The concept of nationality must change to reflect an ever more connected world citizenry. The global environmental crisis is making international cooperation necessary, but before necessity creates change, we must take initiative and define a new concept of global culture. To exemplify this, we; two Moroccans, two Spaniards, and one American (from the United States), are sharing experiences and culture between Spain and Morocco, actively engaging in a dialogue about how WE THE YOUTH imagine our future. Ultimately we hope to swim across the Strait of Gibraltar together as an example of how we can swim across very waters that divide.

Mirleft Monday Market

Carlos and Marga, the two Spanish swimmers, had already come to Mirleft, each of them spending the better part of 10 days in this small town on the southern Moroccan coast with me, Hakim and Bachir. It was easy for them to come to Morocco; they simply bought a cheap ticket and boarded the plane with their Spanish passport. On the other hand, the process of Hakim and Bachir trying to go to Spain has been a somewhat long and complicated process- I’ve learned that obtaining European Schengen visas for two Moroccans is not easy.

Filling out papers with Hakim

A Schengen visa is valid for most European countries. You acquire it through a single country’s consulate abroad, but it opens the doors to most of Europe for a limited amount of time. We’ve been working with the Spanish Consulate in Agadir, a large city some 140 km north of Mirleft, and had asked for a Schengen visa valid for 40 days within a period of two months and with an allowed two entries into Europe. Our plan was to go to Spain, swim the Strait of Gibraltar, hang for a few days, but then return to Mirleft and present our project here before going back to Spain to present our project at the Spanish-Moroccan Cultural Center in Madrid. As I’ll explain later, we didn’t get the visas we had asked for, even with letters of support from the US Embassy, an invitation from Marga, travel insurance, and a whole array of other papers. But we did get visas, and so will go to Spain (and soon- on the 23^rd of June!), and so I can’t complain, but do feel that these restrictions are somewhat unjust.

Epic sunset on a large rock hill

It has taken a lot of foresight and active communication between the United States Embassy in Spain, the Spanish Consulate in Agadir, Marga in Madrid, Hakim and Bachir here in Mirleft, and me, to round-up all of the papers needed to even ask for the Schengen visas. It began way back in March when I was still in Peru and told Bachir and Hakim that we would be going to Spain and that they needed to get passports, that without their passports we wouldn’t be able to start the visa paperwork. A sudden change in Moroccan law made it necessary for Bachir and Hakim to get new national ID’s before they could get a passport, and this ended up taking a lot longer than getting their actual passports.

Hanging in Gillel's beach cave. Gillel is the Sand Shaman of Mirleft

I had to take a quick course on Schengen visa requirements before figuring out how we would get together our application. I read through the details of the visa requirements online and called the Spanish Consulate in Agadir about every other day. Each time I called I said that I was working on a swimming and cultural project with the US Embassy in Madrid, something that gave a little more importance to my call than it otherwise might have had.

Ahmed is the Patron Saint of Mirleft...here he is feeding my dogs

When I went to Madrid for 68 hours, I gathered the missing pieces of our application. I took the letter of invitation Marga had prepared to a notary, a letter which says that she will pay for all of Hakim and Bachir’s expenses while in Spain- which is not entirely true, because I’m going to pay for their trip, but me not being a European citizen would have made it much harder to produce such a letter. When I visited the US Embassy I picked up the signed and sealed letters that I had drafted for them and that they had later polished. The letters were of formal support and recognition of our project, asking that the Spanish Consulate in Agadir grant Schengen visas to Hakim and Bachir. In Morocco we filled out the visa application and went to TIznit to buy travel insurance.

Marga helping Bachir fill out our visa papers

Waiting at the Spanish Consulate in Agadir

We were with Marga when we dropped off our paperwork in Agadir on May 19th. We awoke at 4:45am to catch the 5:15am bus, arriving at the terminal at 8:15am, having breakfast, and then going directly to the consulate. It was easy to see that Hakim and Bachir were nervous, and together we talked through the different questions that they may be asked by the consulate. As we waited our turn at the consulate, I even began to feel my heart beat quicken, and the scene of us four behind the bullet proof glass windows of the consulate, Marga sitting with Bachir and me sitting with Hakim, will never be forgotten. In the end, it was all very quick. They turned in the papers, got their fingerprints and pictures taken, and that was it. Because the letters from the Embassy had come in sealed envelopes, they were seen as official documents and the consulate himself had to open them. I asked to speak with him, and did, in a very brief conversation where he said that there should be no problem with the visas, that all the paperwork was in order.

Breathe of release after submitting our papers

Following the turning in of paperwork, we went to the beach to walk around for a bit and breathe easy. After midday we all went to Bachir’s uncle’s home for a celebratory meal that included his younger brother Mohammed, who had come to Agadir to ask for a Schengen visa through the French consulate. A nice French family who visits Mirleft a few times every year (and financially helps Bachir’s family) had invited Mohammed to spend a month with them at their home in France. They helped him fill out all the papers, similar to what we had to do, but in the end, the French denied him the visa. A few days later, a friend of theirs, Lahsen, who’s sister lives in Sweden, was also denied a Schengen visa through the Swedish consulate. While I was still confident about our visa situation, this shook Bachir and Hakim- they didn’t want to get their hopes up for nothing.

All we want to do is swim

A week later I called the Spanish consulate and they said that we had been granted Schengen visas and that we could pick them up at our convenience. When I shared this with Hakim and Bachir, they still didn’t believe me- they needed to see the visas in their passports before they could imagine going to Spain. When we finally did pick up the visas on June 1st, I could see how happy they were. Planning our presentation in Spain and training so swim the Strait of Gibraltar as all become much more productive and real. Going to Spain isn’t a distant dream anymore, we now even have tickets to leave Morocco on the 23^rd of June.

Bachir and Hakim, trying to figure out how to tie-up their donkey on Wheat Harvest Day

We were granted single entry Schengen visas for a duration of 30 days over a period of six weeks, beginning June 1^st and ending July 15^th. Not at all what we had asked for, but we’ll have to make it work. The problem is that we’re presenting our project at the Spanish-Moroccan cultural center on the 16^th of July, which obviously falls outside the duration of our visa. I’ve asked the Spanish consulate in Agadir to change the dates, but as of now they’re not budging. We’ll have to extend the visas at a police station while in Spain, or just be somewhat clandestine at our presentation.

Max Baumgarten, fellow friend from California, doing a back-flip into the oasis watering hole

I don’t believe that these restrictions in travel are fair, and in many ways see them as a means of maintaining inequality by keeping some people out of other countries. I do believe in the fluid movement of people and ideas and imagine a future where this is facilitated by greater international cooperation. The idea of a Schengen visa works because the countries involved share similar immigration and labor laws, and I would hope that these rights will also be developed in other countries, ultimately allowing for more countries to fall under a single global visa.

Night view of Mirleft from the hill-top French ruins

Considering that I’ve been talking a lot about paperwork, I guess that the last part of this blog entry should include the fact that on June 4^th I submitted my application to medical school. It is something that I’ve been completing on and off for the past four months, beginning in Peru, then in Spain, and finally here in Mirleft, Morocco. The actual act of clicking submit wasn’t all that romantic, but it did come as part of an epic week that included getting visas for Hakim and Bachir and painting a giant mural of a worldy whale at the beach (details in next blog entry).

My/our rooftop terrace, sight of long breakfasts and grilling sardines

I applied to UCLA, Stanford, UC San Francisco, UC Davis, USC, Harvard, Yale and Cornell. It has been hard to gather information on each of these schools being so far away from home and being so involved in a totally separate reality. The other day Hakim asked me where I wanted to study medicine, and to simplify the conversation I said Harvard, because I figured that he had probably heard of that school. He had no idea what I was talking about but said that insha allah I would go there. I laughed, remembering how aside from a few conversations with my dad, a friend/fellow applicant from Bowdoin, and the health professions advisor at Bowdoin, I’ve been alone in this process, and have had juxtaposing moments of self doubt and intense fervor throughout.

Flying through the air at the oasis watering hole

Opportunities in global medicine, or family practice, or rural nutrition, or sustainable agriculture, or even just the California location are all reasons for my applying to these seven schools. I’m excited to see what happens, and even more excited to see where I go with medicine. In many ways I want so study medicine because the world still feels like a grand place and I’m not ready to specialize. In studying human health my perspective will continue to expand, yet being a doctor gives me a concrete way to interact with and help in the world.

Painting the Worldy Whale of Mirleft....finished product in the next blog entry

And another playful match between Mona (cat) and Karmous (dog)