Sacramento River, taken at the Pine Creek Restoration Site

Many individuals and organizations understand how to develop projects that benefit both humans and natural communities. I recently found a statement by the late Pete Seeger where he described how his focus was always for the meek to inherit the earth, but he realized that without care for nature, they would inherit a devastated planet. He became a long-term environmental activist as a result. Now let me tell you about River Partners.

This Chico, California based non-profit began in 1995 as Sacramento River Partners twhen several farmers realized that they and conservationists shared a need for healthy soils, water, and biodiversity. They and environmental scientists originally focused on damaged riparian habitat along the Sacramento River. Today, River Partners has worked on more than 300 projects in 21 watersheds. These include projects in the Sacramento Valley, the Bay-Delta region, the San Joaquin Valley, and other areas.

River Partners’ website states that only 5% of California’s rivers remain healthy, natural habitat. The other 95% have been impacted by industry, agriculture, housing, and other types of development. The organization works hard to build a network of interconnected floodplains that will benefit both wildlife and humans.

These projects will provide California’s native plants and animals, some of which are threatened or endangered, with healthy habitats. In addition, forests that are close to rivers can block and slow down floodwater that threatens human communities, and allow the water to sink into the soil and strengthen the water table. Forests can also filter pollution from water, and young forests in particular capture carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and slow climate change. People will also have a greater range of open spaces for recreational and educational activities.

RESTORING A RIPARIAN FOREST

A group of curious explorers met River Partners’ biologist Holly Ferrara in a parking lot next to the Pine Creek Unit on a sunny May, 2026 morning. An orchard composed of almond trees in neat rows lay on the far side of River Road. Holly led the hikers on trails between the road and the Sacramento River. Young big leaf box elders, willows, and valley oaks reached heights above everyone’s head. Northern Californian shrubs covered the ground, and masses of birds’ songs fell from the trees’ branches.

“This area used to be an orchard too,” Holly said, “like the one across the street. Can you guess how old it is?

Guesses included 10 and 15 years. “It was planted in 2021-2022,” Holly said with a smile. “It’s amazing how quickly these projects take off, but the soil here is phenomenal. This isn’t typical for such a young project!

“River Partners isn’t in the business of long-term land management,” she continued. “When we purchase land, it’s always with the intention of returning it to local Native American tribes, if they’re interested, or to the Fish and Wildlife department, California’s State Parks system, or local communities. River Partners acquires land from willing sellers, often in situations where agricultural succession is uncertain or where recurring flooding from the river has reduced the long-term economic viability of farming. These properties are then restored to native habitat and reconnected to natural floodplain processes.”

River Partners receives funds from a range of places, including the federal government, the state of California, and philanthropists. The group also finds grants from sources that support ecological restoration and repairs to damaged land. If one source dries up temporarily, the group has many others it can reach out to.

A Nuttall’s woodpecker drummed on a tree as we walked along a sandy trail that was once the Sacramento River’s bed. “I think of rivers as living, breathing beings,” Holly said. The Sacramento, like all rivers, changes its position over time, and it meanders like a side-winder rattle snake over a flat floodplain. It flows quickly and erodes soil and gravel from one bank, then slows down to deposit material on the opposite bank.

“We do research to determine which native plants grew in a site before it was developed for agriculture, and plant those to encourage wildlife to return to the area,” Holly said. After the remnants of the orchard were removed from this site, River Partners used a light application of herbicides to discourage the growth of invasive plants that take more of their share of water and crowd out native plants.

“Of course, you can never eliminate invasives,” Holly commented. “You can manage their growth, but many leave large caches of seeds underground that can last for years. Fires can stimulate these seeds to grow after people think the invasive is gone. We plant natives that can outcompete them with time, and monitor them to make sure their communities are healthy.”

Native plants come in gallon drums that River Partners buys from local nurseries. “We irrigate them for three years until their roots can reach the water table,” Holly commented. “The goal is for them to become self-sustaining so they can survive on their own. People wonder why we plant trees in rows like in an orchard. We place them parallel to the river so they can slow flood waters; if they were perpendicular to the river, it would act more like a runway/funnel into neighboring properties during high flow events. We plant native grasses and others among the rows so they can grow outward onto the land. This site is gradually becoming a wild one that is starting to attract wildlife.”

We passed one valley oak that towered above the younger trees. “We didn’t plant it, it is likely more than 100 years old,” Holly said. “Its roots are established and home to many wildlife species, so we decided to leave it here. This is also an area of cultural significance where there are signs of native peoples’ settlements. We consult with tribes to decide how to manage them. Sometimes we do higher density plantings to discourage people from wandering around in these sites.”

A scrub jay squawked at us, a robin sang, and a turkey vulture watched us from a log as Holly continued, “The yellow-billed cuckoo is one of the most endangered species along the Sacramento River. We plant cottonwood trees to give them habitat. We’ve also found skunks, deer, and many birds. Otter slides tell us that these mammals are here too!”

An osprey watched us as we returned to our cars. It seemed to want to make sure we wouldn’t disturb its huge nest, which probably held its young. Its presence told us that this space was healthy, and growing healthier all the time!

SAVING A SMALL TOWN

Restoration site near Hamilton City, California

Holly and the group met a week later at a restoration site north of Hamilton City, an agricultural town of 2300 citizens that lies about ten miles west of Chico. The plants on this sandy spot were younger and shorter than the ones at the Pine Creek project, but they were thriving. This Northern Sacramento Valley community experienced floods that forced people to evacuate between six and eight times during a 30 year period.

An aging levee that was built next to the Sacramento River’s banks was largely responsible for this situation. Construction that would have allowed space for the water to flow into the floodplain so it could sink down to the water table would have been wise, but humans are known for our mistakes. “It was basically Swiss cheese because of wear, and damage from gophers,” Holly said. “It couldn’t hold the river back.”

Hamilton City’s citizens organized and spent more than three decades pushing for a solution to this threatening situation. They heard for years that removal of the old levee and construction of a new one farther from the river would be too expensive, and that they had to live with the floods. Fortunately, the Army Corps of Engineers determined that the project would be cost effective if it were combined with restoration of the riverbank’s ecosystem and improving habitat. This was a unique perspective, and the first time the Corps took such an integrated approach to prevent flooding.

Restoration, including the removal of the old levee and the construction of another farther from the river happened in two phases. The Army Corps of Engineers developed a restoration plan which River Partners implemented, with help from the Nature Conservancy and other groups.

Phase One involved a 900-1000 acre site. Work ended there in 2020,and River Partners turned management of the site over to a community based restoration district in Hamilton City. The soil is less productive than at Pine Creek, and the area doesn’t resemble a forest so much, but the native plants thrive and sustain themselves. . Holly and her guests visited the 400 acre Phase 2 site farther north from the town. River Partners and community members began to plant native trees and shrubs during the summer of 2024.

“There were delays, so we had to plant during the hot summer,” Holly said. River Partners hired and paid community workers to help with the work. “They weren’t biologists, and some spoke little English.” River Partners developed a system where each species is associated with a unique number so the workers could determine where each belonged. They communicated with each other and with River Partners’ staff to determine where each plant would find a good home.

“We hired local people and buy supplies from neighboring businesses to keep the money in the community,” Holly commented. She pointed out the cardboard signs that identified each plant and the bamboo posts that supported them. “We got both of these from nearby businesses. They are biodegradable and will fall apart naturally.”

The native plants grow in rows that are determined by the soil composition and dampness. Their communities include valley oak forest, elderberry savannah (grassland), shaded riverine by the Sacramento Riverine, and others. Again, these plants are younger and shorter than the ones at the Pine Creek site, but they thrive. Older valley oaks surround them and the southern Cascade Mountain Range give the scene a beautiful border.

“We will irrigate these plants for three years until their roots reach the water table and they can sustain themselves,” Holly commented. “ We’ll remove the irrigation tubes then, and The Hamilton City reclamation district will manage things. We have a problem with rodents who chew holes in the tubes and eat the roots of plants– we have to manage them!”

A red tailed hawk cried its territorial call as it circled the field. “It’s probably looking for tasty rodents down here,” Holly said with a grin. “We’ve found coyotes, bobcats, rabbits, nesting osprey, and lots of songbirds here. This spot is a success!”

People are part of the natural world, and policies that help humans and natural communities are a big part of the world’s future. River Partners is a thriving group that will promote this idea for years. Projects like this one really give me hope!

REFERENCE

River partners

https://riverpartners.org/

Note: these field trips were sponsored by Chico, California’s Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI.) Thanks to Chico Olli for agreeing to let me post this article on Substack.

All photographs by Paul Belz

Mount Shasta, on the road to Portland. Some say that Lemurians, a race of spiritually advanced giants who survived a nuclear war with Atlantis live inside this spectacular dormant volcano. The human mind is interesting.

Bob-bob-bobbin’ along a Portland trail.

There’s really a lot of cool creativity in Portland!!

Back in northern California… our pal, the Paradise Lake bald eagle. A pair maintains this nest.

Three western pond turtles in a row, Paradise Lake.

Kate and I recently journeyed from Chico, California to Portland, Oregon for a reunion with old friends. We would have loved to have taken a train both ways, but since the northbound Coast Starlight comes through our town of Chico, at 4 AM. we decided to take a bus north, and the train for the return trip. The train ride, which came after the fun trip’s end was soothing, meditative, and relaxing. Bus travel is almost always ok, especially this route which goes through the Cascade Mountain Range. But let me tell you about this northbound trip.

We left Chico peacefully and uneventfully early one sunny afternoon. Our fellow passengers included several student types with their phones, and a crowd of people with poverty beaten faces and clean clothes that might have been a decade old. Several of them seemed to have serious health issues. One woman wore a parch over her chest, I never heard the reason for that. Another talked about her arthritis, which made bus travel hard. A third told Kate, “I was at the doctor last week and he said I had to slow down my heart rate right away or he’d have to take off my head and replace my heart. I prayed and prayed, and my friend on the phone prayed with me. God slowed my heart, and I’m here.”

These people were the raucous and funny folks on the bus. They laughed uproariously and kept up a banter with the driver. “I got out of prison in August,” he told us. “Greyhound will give you a second chance. Watch for bald eagles – this will be a beautiful ride.”

We flowed smoothly past Shasta Lake, the North State reservoir that seemed to be at a higher level than I had expected,. Mt. Shasta, the highest volcano in the southern Cascades dominated the view from the windshield, along with the Cinder Cone, a high volcanic formation made from dark basalt. Some people think that Lemurians, a race of spiritually advanced giants live inside Mt. Shasta, but that might be for another article.

Things took a dive after a food stop in Shasta City. “I just heard that the driver who will replace me had an emergency and had to fly east,” the driver announced. “You will have to wait four hours in Grants Pass, Oregon for the next one.” That changed the mood. The bus grew silent as we charged past high volcanic slopes. The rain made me think of Noah while lightning bolts flashed like Thor’s fury.

We arrived in Grant’s Pass; the driver took us to a convenience store and de[posted is om the parking lot. Rain pounded like liquid hail and thunder howled at us. “Can’t we sit in the bus!?” everyone asked in unison.

“No, I need to leave,” the driver replied. “The next driver will be here in four hours, at 9 PM.” His shift was over and there may have been a liability issue about our staying on the bus without a company representative. Ok, I am trying to be objective and overly kind here. I don’t blame the driver for this situation, but in truth there is no reason to feel kind. Someone could have died from this experience.

The bus deserted us, and we huddled under overhangs next to gas pumps; the convenience store was barely big enough for 5 people to hang out there. Most of the passengers, including the most down and out ones disappeared; I will never know where they went. Maybe they knew a bar nearby or someone might have had a friend who gave everyone a safe spot. Maybe there was a welcoming church that was open late on Sunday nights.. It will always be a mystery. I walked for several blocks to look for some kind of shelter, but bars, restaurants, stores, and churches were all closed.

Some of us stuck around and sat on curbs. Kate and I chatted with a man from Kenya who’s lived in Seattle for years. He was returning home from Los Angeles where a fellow Airbnb guest went into his room while he showered and stole his laptop, his wallet with his bank cards and ID, and more. He somehow came up with enough cash to buy a bus ticket home. His sense of absurdity and humor gave us some well-needed relief!

There was no bathroom in the convenience store, so everyone had to wander to see what we could find. The only thing available, as far as anyone could tell was an outhouse at a homeless camp about three blocks away. As Kate and I approached the facility, a tall guy with long blonde hair ran to us and called, “Mom! Dad! It’s been 15 years!”

He pointed us out to the people who wandered among the tents and said proudly, “This my mom and dad!” Then he laughed loudly, and said, “I’m kidding you. I’m a joker, a comedian, and my name is Mud. Who are you and what is happening with you?

We told him our story and he said, “You can hang out in my tent. I have a couch there and I will play my trombone for you if I can find my reeds.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I said, “but we should stay near the place where the bus will show up.”

“That’s true, “Mud said. “But I will get some of my friends to help me bring the couch there so you can sit on it.” We told him, again, that was kind but not necessary. Of course, it never happened.

People started returning to the convenience store parking lot around 8 PM, as darkness fell. Again, I do not know where they came from. The student types sat on curbs and stared at their phones. Others gathered in a circle and shared joints. A bicyclist passed by and panhandled enough money to buy a beer. He got one at the convenience store, came out, and said, “I wouldn’t live in that homeless camp if you paid me $1,000,000.00. Drama!” He took a big swig from his can and rode away.

“I called the bus company’s customer support,” Kate told everyone, “and I got a guy who said he couldn’t find a record of when our bus would come. He didn’t know about our situation, but he thought the whole thing was ridiculous. He said he’d call back, but he hasn’t so far.”

Panic struck. Everyone grabbed their phones and called customer service. Nobody got a clear answer.

“I just heard our bus was cancelled!” one man exclaimed

“What are we supposed to do, “the woman with rheumatism yelled, “Sleep out here with the weirdoes?”

At that moment a bus pulled into the parking lot, and we all cheered. The driver looked tired and annoyed, and not happy that he had to be there, but he took our tickets and let us all come back n the bus. I settled into the front seat and listened as the conversation’s tone quieted down. People talked about sports, movies, and life. I gazed out at the highway and remembered bus trips during my hippie youth. It’s soothing, especially after fear, to watch the rushing white lines as the bus flashes down the road, and to focus on the headlines that run from the opposite direction, pass, and vanish. Which people could be in those cars, and in the scattered, brightly-lit houses? Our bus rumbled and dashed into the Kerouacian night.

I had the freedom to romanticize the experience, and to compare it to my hippie adventures. But by the time Kate and I got to our guesthouse in Portland at 1:30 AM, we were starting to realize that the whole thing, in truth, was traumatic. Someone could have died – it might have been one of us, but it would most have been one of the people with far fewer resources and poor health. Happily, everyone made it. After we were safely on the bus most people seemed to take the whole episode more or less in stride; they may be used to experiences like this, and they’d stuck together to watch out for each other. This whole thing was a bizarre example of one side of America’s reality.. This happens to poor people.

US PROLES

Mother, I wished you could pull away

from that board where you placed pegs

in holes, lit up colored lights,

let others talk on phones (in truth

I didn’t know what you did all day).

Mother, I dreamed you could bolt and run home.

you’d join Daddy and me with our books,

Tales of mountains, ocean storms, Loki and Thor,

chili he cooked and cans of chicken noodle soup.

We’d celebrate you. I never knew what you did all day,

just that you came home frazzled, grumpy tired

after pushing pegs into holes so others could talk.

Daddy’s weak heart shoved him away from jobs,

cut him off from steel worker, gas station guy years.

Now he fixed watches at home, spent spare time

with number paintings, read Shakespeare, Darwin,

Mark Twain, John Muir, history by the ton.

He heard my school day, then gave me gifts,

treasures: bird songs, wildflower’s forms,

Oliver Twist, Beethoven, Greek and Norse myths

cooked chili and canned chicken noodle soup.

We finished my homework while you came home

worn out from whatever you did all day,

your mind a match, a sparkler, a flare.

Wise Daddy knew what TV would calm you down –

Twilight Zone with its far away tales,

Perry Mason who set everything straight.

You softened then, heard my day –

Bullies, nuns who couldn’t teach, the terrors of hell,

gave me laughs, lullabies: Toora-loora loora”.

Still, you placed pegs in holes, made lights flash

while you slept. I never understood what you did.

MY IRISH GIFTS

You always sang “Tura, lura lura”,

explained why spiders were called lucky in Ireland,

let me know the Banshee wasn’t real.

But you never came to your mother’s homeland.

I miss you on Dublin’s harp shaped bridge,

When I stroll with Yeats through Sligo’s alleys,

and Oscar Wilde by Galway’s canals.

I want to bring you here.

I’ll show you round hills speckled with sheep

blanketed with yellow/white wool,”Baaaaa!” they bleat:

tenors, altos, all with trembling tones,

black eyes that stare as we pass.

Let’s go to a concert and have just one Guinness

whose thick foam will slide down our throats

a beer-flavored milkshake while jigs and reels

swirl and twist through conversations-

guitar, penny whistle, harp, will pipe snatch all ears.

We’ll have-Ireland’s breakfasts: potatoes, eggs,

Fried mushrooms, sliced tomatoes, soda bread,

Heinz baked beans, black tea that rings our mouths like drums?

Long-gone mommy, you watch me from these hills and fog.

You sing with the grass and rocks.

WHERE I AM FROM

Sauerkraut city whose roads have a jolt

that wakes us to pigeons’ coos

gives us Yengling and pierogis for breakfast

makes us watch herons who stroll the rivers’ edge

now that the water is mostly clean.

Dinosaurs skeletons love the dark museum.

T. Rex’s jaws thrill kids even though he lacks skin.

There are no words for Apatosaurus’ ling neck,

that tunnel between her mouth and guts.

There’s no way to describe the storm’s distant flash

that ignited our hills but gave no thunder.

Us kids called it heat lightning though it was cold.

There are no words for the fireflies

who danced beneath the Great Bear and flashed “Hellos!”

back at her, no words for crickets whose chants built hot nights,

no word for cigar smoke air that stung like sauerkraut,

no words for my Pittsburgh.

GRANDMA BELZ, MY DAD’S MOM

RECIPES

The family kept her cookbooks with her scribbled thoughts: “Too salty. “Bay leaves, not parsley.” “This is great; it tastes like a prayer.”

I WAS A KID

I never knew her; she seemed ancient when I was a kid. She was hard of hearing, with problematic eyes. She discussed the dates of all her ailments, and which saint had a feast day that she felt healed her a bit.

STORIES

The family told her legends, things she survived. One little daughter caught scarlet fever on the day of her sister’s funeral and was gone days later. Her blacksmith husband’s cigars, whiskey, strength, work, steadiness that lasted until pneumonia. My dad had an eighteen-year heart condition. Two other sons were alcoholics, and a fourth fled the Catholic Church to marry a Jehovah’s Witness. Her surviving daughter and she got through it all. Everyone called her a sage.

FOOD

Her house was a family shrine where we all gathered for mythic meals. Roast beef was a staple, with the freshest vegetables, mashed potatoes, gravy, and piles of home-made cookies. My cousins and I ran wild in the woods and visited horses at a farm up the street. We laughed through the chaos of rambunctious relatives, but us kids never knew Grandma.

LATER

She moved in with her daughter and her husband when her house became a burden, and she aged there some more. She drifted down the stairs, a slow shadow who found a place on the couch among her kids and grandkids. Her rosary beads clicked as she struggled to hear. “Ehh?” she asked, “Ehhhhhhhh?” We all had to shout until she got some point, nodded, and said “Oh.”

CENTENIAL

The whole town came to her hundredth birthday party. The mayor, council, and congressman showed up. A polka band played and everyone but Grandma swayed, high on highballs and Iron City Beer. She just watched, prayed, and probably wondered, “What’s the fuss?”

PREACJER

She asked everyone, “Do you go to Mass? Do you pray the Rosary?” She couldn’t hear the answers but whatever someone said made her laugh, clap, and yell, “I’m so glad!” Once she approached me from behind and showered me with holy water. I turned, saw her make a sign of the cross, and then walk away.

MISCHIEF

One day she found a pack of matches in her daughter’s living room when no one was there. She stumbled to the couch and lit them one by one, staring at their glow. She dropped their burnt skeletons in an ash tray, but she missed with a couple. Her daughter’s husband came and yelled, “Ma, what are you doing?” just in time. She stared at him like he was nuts.

FATE

“I wish I could die,” she told us all, “I don’t know why I am alive. But God tells me, inside my head that I’m still here to pray for you all.” I will not try to say what this was about, but her courage was real, until that night when, while sleeping, she slipped away.

AUNT BETTY, MY MOTHER’S SISTER

NEW YORK CITY

She loved game shows. Once, when I was a teen she, my mom, and I went to see THE PRICE IS RIGHT being filmed. During the credits, we were told to face each other and talk in sounds that made no sense but sounded like words. Aunt Betty and I looked at each other, chattered, cracked up, and almost fell on the floor.

WIDOW

I never knew her husband Ed He was a jazz saxophonist, in a band, I’m told. He left this world just before my birth. No one said much about him, but my mom loved jazz.

BINGO

Aunt Betts was the champ on Saturday nights at our church. She could play five cards at once. The metal ball crackled as it spun through the whirling wheel, and everyone held their breath. “Bingo!” she called. Everyone exhaled, amazed by her skill. She laughed and shared her winnings with the priest.

JOKER

I never saw her cry; I only heard constant quips. The night my dad died, she cradled my sobbing mom.

SON

Her son played the piano at church, at weddings, and in a band. He was a joker like his mom – their sarcasm flew like flocks of pigeons – rapid, changing directions, loud. But she loved FDR, and said he saved everyone from the streets. Young Ed was a John Birch Society guy. How they could fight! But a whiskey sour always got them to laugh.

NUT HORNS

She baked thousands of little cookies every Christmas season, ground up walnuts wrapped with spices and sugar in a thin crust and baked until they were crunchy and sweet. All the cousins helped. We sang carols and joked with her and ate too many nut horns. She was the boss, in charge of it all. These were her gift to the world, I used them to bribe bullies, so they’d let me be.

MILITANT

She supported Nixon and his war, and we argued. But I supported her when her union at the electrical wire plant went on strike; everyone else just shook their heads. I remember the photo of her laughing on the picket line. Then came Watergate. She sighed, shook her head, and told me I was right.

DEPARTURE

She stole a chunk of mu youth when she snuck off from this earth one night. I found the pieces she dropped, and stuck them together, but it’s not the same.

SNOW GOOSE STUCK

Cables block you from the pond

Up on the wood deck where humans come.

We photograph your flock when you rise with a blast

circle in three groups and yell with one voice.

Then you all grow silent and settle down

with a soft splash, away from sandhill cranes and ducks.

But you’re lost, isolated, stuck.

You flap, crash madly into cables

placed so humans wouldn’t tumble into mud.

Your wings will snap. Did a hawk chase you here

then leave, scared by our car? You scatter white feathers.

We surround you, approach but don’t touch.

You might grab our hands in your strong beak.

One step at a time, we guide you, terrified one,

off this deck, down to the soil. We back away.

Grass calls; you waddle over and graze.

Hey! Could that be water? Off you go,

stare a moment, wade, drink, and swim.

We hear your kin squawking- look! That way!

Be prepared to move, friend. Forget about us.

Sky and stars will guide you north.

for Kate, my fellow goose rescuer

************************************************************************

THE FATE OF PEACE

It cowers in shadows,

whispers more softly than a breeze.

Many of us hear its quiet call.

It begs us for water and shelter from thugs

who rumble, stomp, slash things, hit it with stones.

Peace becomes a refugee who cries “NO!” to death.

It feels pain, terror, woe, but its fate is to survive,

endure, wait for days when people turn their backs

on drones, missiles, battles, fools. When those times come,

it will be a laughing stream that runs in the woods,

a dance troupe that fills city streets.

For now, let’s hear its whispers and cries,

find it rooms where it can sleep,

bring it water, books, soup, and bread

until we can revive.

******************************************

EAGLES SURVIVE

Only its white head and two dark eyes

peek above the nest’s rim, high up in a pine.

Many fallen trees, blasted down by storms

block this path. Last year’s winds scatted these raptor’s home,

Left these branches bare. Look! One is there!

Is its mate out scouring the lake for fish?

They rebuilt their haven where they’re safe.

Are there eggs that this one keeps warm?

They won’t be defeated. Celebrate

the world. It just can’t be beat.

BCCER BEFORE THE PARK FIRE

WHAT AND WHERE IS THIS PLACE?

“Look!” naturalist Jon Aull said, pointing to the tops of pines, “Band-tailed pigeons are landing in those trees. “And western bluebirds are singing!” Fifteen enthusiastic hikers came with Jon, educator Andre Dressler, and reserve employees Leslie Bowen and Nicholas Shnack (who prefers to be called Nico) to Big Chico Creek (BCCER) late in January, 2026. The trip, which was part of ALTACAL Bird Alliance’s annual Snow Goose Festival, aimed to share both impacts from the recent Park Fire and how ravaged places return to life.

BCCER lies 13.2 miles east of the university town of Chico, California. Chico is relatively flat, roughly 195 feet above sea level; the reserve ranges from 200 t0 2,160 feet high. Shale and sandstone deposits from a shallow inland sea formed the Chico Formation, this rugged area’s bedrock sixty- five to seventy-five million years ago. Observant hikers find fossilized clam shells in exposed layers near the bottom of Big Chico Creek’s canyon. A series of volcanic mudflows from the nearby Cascade Mountains built the ragged Tuscan Formation’s cliffs between one and four million years ago. These craggy slopes are covered with chapparal, (a community of drought adapted shrubs), several types of forests, and grasslands. Riparian or river adapted plants crowd the tumbling creek’s banks.

The indigenous Mechoopda people fished, hunted, and gathered acorns and plants here for millennia. Golden eagles, California quail, bluebirds, black tailed deer, coyotes, black bears, western pond turtles, pipevine swallowtail butterflies, and many other animals shared this area with them. Gold miners and other settlers from the eastern United States claimed this land during the mid and late19^th century, leading to the Mechoopda’s forced relocation.

The Lucas family maintained a ranch here beginning in mid-19^th century and raised cattle for the growing town of Chico; BCCER staff used their barn as a site for natural history programs until the Park Fire destroyed it. The Simmons and Hennings families also established ranches. Chico State Enterprises, a subsidiary of California State University, Chico obtained the Simmons Ranch in 1999 and the Hennings Ranch in 2001. The reserve was 3950 acres at this point; an anonymous gift of 3885 acres extended it to 7835 acres in 2021.

The Mechoopda tribe worked closely with Chico State Enterprises to manage the reserve as a place to celebrate their cultural heritage, as well as a research site for ecologists, an educational destination for elementary school children, and a hiking and recreational area for explorers. The Park Fire ripped through the reserve during the summer of 2024. “It burned 429,603 acres in Butte and Tehama counties, making it the 2nd largest single fire in CA history,” Jon Aull commented in an email to me after the hike. “This is a fire-adapted landscape that has seen periodic fires over the millennia, from both lightning and intentional fires set by native Californians. Historical fire suppression is the biggest contributor to the increasing size of these fires.” The reserve remains closed to the public for safety reasons, but people strive to return it to health.

THE FIRE’S IMPACT

The staff, along with members of the Mechoopda tribe work to prevent wildfires from seriously harming the reserve; there is a chance that their actions lessened the damage. Prescribed burns take place regularly at the reserve. Employees join the Mechoopda, who are experts in this practice in carefully burning areas to reduce the large amounts of wood and grass that might burst into flame. The practice will continue in the future, but it will not happen right away.

“We’re not doing any prescribed burns this year,” Jon said. “There’s really nothing to burn. The one exception is the grasslands, where wild oats, clover, storksbills, and other invasives are coming back like crazy. They sprout early in the growing season and need to be dealt with.”

Land managers sometimes use domestic grazing animals to remove invasive plants that can burn quickly from the terrain. Leslie said, “Goats were used in a chaparral portion of the reserve for a master’s project. We have returned spring cattle grazing to the expanded part of the reserve where there has been cattle grazing for the past 100 years.”

Flammable yellow star thistle, which spreads rapidly needs special treatment. It appears in the spring, and staff members need to wait until it flowers in the summer to cut it below its basal leaves so it might not resprout. Prescribed burns cannot remove it during hot, dry summers. “We take weed whackers and have to mow it down, but it grows back fast,” Nico commented.

We began to explore the area where the barn and the reserve’s offices had been and noted that many gray pine’ bark was scorched, but many of them survived. Sadly, others were killed, along with oaks, incense cedars, and other species. “The grasslands burned cooler,” Leslie said. “The fire moved more slowly and was not as hot in these areas. The chaparral burned hotter, and the fire moved fast when it jumped into the wooded parts of the canyon.”

“We had to cut dead trees with hand saws after things cooled down,” Nico added. “It was very arduous and miserable in hot weather! We left some snags – dead trees that insects, birds, and other animals use for habitat.”

“There’s a lot of potential for sediment runoff into the creek,” Jon commented. Trees and other plants absorb runoff after storms, but the fire destroyed so many that this no longer happens. The sediments make the creek unhealthy for nesting salmon ad other animals. We dealt with that by building dam analogues, structures made from logs and rucks that can block the runoff. We made more than 1,000 of them.”

“1700,” Leslie added. “This was one of the first things we had to do, and one of the hardest.”

SIGNS OF REBIRTH

Many California plants, such as gray pines need fire or very hot weather before they can release their seeds. Fires also return carbon from dead plants to the soil; this nutrient creates a good habitat for new growth. Green ground cover blanketed the spot where we began our walk. “It was depressing after the fire,” Andre commented, “but now little things are popping up.”

Jon said, “The spring after the fire saw an astounding wildflower bloom, especially from bulb plants (geophytes) like brodiaeas and lilies.”

Our late January group found one hound’s tongue, a plant with dog-tongue sized leaves that would later produce small purple blossoms. We also encountered a bright yellow buttercup and a giraffe’s head, a flower that looks like a giraffe’s head. California poppies, lupine, and other resident plants will blossom as spring moves along, and 122 species that were not previously found on the reserve appeared after the fire. Many wild fungi thrived here after the recent rain, including jack’ o’ lantern mushrooms, an orange species that glows in the dark.

A spotted towhee chittered at us we hiked. The exploration also introduced us to Nuttall’s woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers, brown creepers who wander up trees’ trunks in search of insects, and many more bluebirds and band tailed pigeons. Acorn woodpeckers squawked at us from oaks.

Andre stopped us when we passed an area where researchers captured saw-whet owls, attached bands that didn’t affect their flight to their legs, and released them. These little birds’ migration patterns baffle scientists, who know they need to have some idea of where the owls go so ecologists can monitor their destinations’ environmental health. “We play a recording of the owls’ mating calls to attract them. This is how we annoy the neighbors – it sounds like a truck backing up,” Andre laughed.

“Getting them out of the nets is the hardest part. We don’t want to hurt them, and we cut the nets if we need to,” he continued. “Sometimes we catch flying squirrels and bats and need to release them too. There was a great horned owl who saw us as a dinner bell; it snatched one saw -whet that we’d just released in front of our eyes. The tree where we used to release the owls burned; we need to find another location. Saw-whets are little owls. They eat small prey that they can find – potato bugs, Jerusalem crickets, and little rodents. But people have found owls we banded in Canada, Montana, and Ohio – they get around!”

An orange-sulfur butterfly, a small and bright yellow insect drifted by while Andre spoke. “There will be a butterfly count here in June,” Andre said. “Some people hike all over the area, but other will just stay in spot and count the butterflies that come by.”

“Some butterflies might be emerging from chrysalises early this year,” Jon added, “but others overwinter in a safe spot and show up on warm days. We might see them. Fire stimulates pipevine’s growth, and pipevine swallowtail caterpillars eat its leaves.” We didn’t see any of these large black butterflies with orange marks, but there will soon be many of them.

“We have 17 species of bats on the reserve, and we’ve had bat houses where they can rest during the day,” Jon commented. “We will build more; they have big spaces where species like Townsend’s big eared bats can roost, and smaller ones for littler species like Mexican free-tailed bats. Sometime northern flickers take over parts of these structures.”

The staff spotted a range of wild mammals on the land since the fire, and cameras have caught many others. A Rocky Mountain elk wandered through the lower elevation sections of the reserve, along with a pack of coyotes. A fisher (a tree-climbing weasel) showed up, along with two black bears, a buck with deformed antlers, and ringtails, secretive relatives of racoons who feast on mistletoe in oaks Reptiles are rebounding as well; Andre caught a sharp-tailed snake to show us, and released it almost immediately while western fence lizards watched from a rock.

WHAT’S NEXT?

Our explorations and the guides’ comments showed us that the reserve is starting to recover from the fire. Questions about its future remain. “I can’t say when it will open to the public,” Leslie commented, “that will depend on when it is safe. We’re looking at a soft opening, with guided tours like this one. I’m pushing for a public wildflower hike too.”

Research by ecologists and university students has resumed and will continue. “Most grants are about comparing pre and post fire data,” Jon said.

“We are looking at setting up a mobile classroom and an educational building for kids,” Nico added, “But this is all in the planning stages, it will take time.”

Our hike ended, and we bid the reserve “Goodbye until next time!” Damage from the fire will remain for years, but the reserve is strong, and it will rise again. We dream of that day!

THE PLACE THAT WAS, AND WILL BE AGAIN

……………………………………………………………………………………..

REFERENCES AND FURTHER REDING

BCCER BCCER https://www.csuchico.edu/bccer/

ALTACAL https://www.altacal.org

STREETS OF MADRID (NOT THE JAM-PACKED ONES)

Our train from Granada to Madrid took us high into the craggy Sierra Nevada Mountains. Thick fog made the rock formations look ethereal. We passed rows of cultivated shrubs and trees (research) as the terrain flattened. If Hercules founded Seville, as legends claim, did he wander through this terrain?

Recordings of ethereal music and bird songs filled Madrid’s train station; I wondered if they were designed to relax the crowds. We found ourselves so jammed with other commuters on the train that we almost sat on each other’s laps. The escalator that took us to the street was as packed as an assembly line. We spend the evening wandering through crowded alleys bordered by restaurants that appeared more elegant than those in Seville or Granada – Madrid is Spain’s capitol, after all. One huge plaza with flashing holiday lights and signs reminded us of Times Square.

We do enjoy being in hectic and thrilling cities like New Youk and Madrid, but we always limit the amount of time we spend there. Besides, the crowds we face can make many of any city’s treasures remain hidden. We were lucky enough to show up in Madrid for Christmas festivities and for Constitution Day. This Dec 6 holiday celebrates the Spanish referendum in 1978 Spain’s people voted for a return to democratic institutions after Frasco’s death. You’ll soon hear about the hordes of celebrating people.

Our breakfast spot in the morning was reminiscent of the exuberant café in Granada, but in s quieter way. It was also a gathering place for workers before their shifts, but well-dressed young professionals joined them. Spanish omelets, a carefully prepared combination of potatoes, eggs, and herbs nourished us. “Eleven euros,” the waiter told us at the meal’s end; he grinned when I replied, “Onze.”

We set off in search of an urban park the guidebooks described. Crowds were oatmeal thick even at 9:AM; Madrid’s main cathedral was the biggest we passed, except for Seville’s, and the National Palace also dominated the scene for several blocks. Madrid is sunnier than Granada and I had to stop in a farmacia for sunscreen. We discovered an ancient wall that dated back to Madrid’s early days as an Islamic outpost; this is one of the few remaining signs of these people’s presence.

North Africans founded a settlement here during the 9^th century AD and called it Magarif – that’s old Arabic for Place of Water. It’s proximity to the Manzanares River made this an agricultural community through the Middle Ages. In 1561, the Hapsburg king Phillip II moved the Spanish capitol from Toledo to Madrid. He may have done this to distance himself from the powerful Catholic Church officials in Toledo, or possibly he wanted his city to be near a water source. After his son Charles’ death, powerful dynasties fought for political control in the Wars of Spanish Succession. The house of Bourbon won in 1724 and based centralized control of the Spanish Empire in Madrid.

Napoleon Bonaparte made his brother Joseph the king of Spain from 1909 -12, but Madrid was a center of resistance that inspired Spanish nationalists in other regions. The Bourbons’ returned to the throne in 1818, but the Spanish Empire’s gradually declined during the 19^th century. Spain lost it’s final colonies, Cuba, the Philippines, and Puerto Rico to the United States by 1898. Economic woes contributed to political chaos, which Madrid’s people had to adapt to. The city’s people initially resisted Francisco Franco’s rise during the Spanish Sivil Way. He bombarded Madrid with bombs and artillery shells, its fall in 1939 marked the Civil War’s end. Franco’s rule was authoritarian, and Spain became isolated from the rest of the world. Francisco’s fall led to relative stability and more democracy, but class issues and other problems remain unresolved.

We soon found ourselves in a crowded business district made up of three story buildings with elegant balconies on the higher levels. There were high-class shoe and clothing stores, jewelry stores, smart phone businesses, tapas bars, and more. Our city park wound up being a large plaza full of stands that sold every possible Christmas gift. A flamenco band played to the oatmeal think crowd, and someone dressed as Spiderman posed for photos with kids and adults.

We continued along streets that were so crowded that we nearly lost each other more than twice. A business sign for the Institute to Study the Jewish and Masonic Conspiracy troubled us Others ignored it; maybe they thought, “We don’t need to give those fools any attention.” We’d seen a lot of anti-fascist graffiti in Madrid and the other cities, but antisemitism is a problem in Spain, as it is in the rest of the world.

The European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights’ recent survey of 16,395 Jewish citizens in twelve countries revealed these people’s feelings about their safety and situation. 78% of the Spanish respondents said that antisemitism was a problem in their country; 85% in other countries agreed. 73% of the Spanish respondents said antisemitism had increased during the past five years; 89% in the other countries concurred. While this survey’s results indicate than discrimination and violence against Jewish people in Spain might be somewhat less than it is in other countries, it remains significant.

The crowds grew even thicker as we proceeded, and we almost lost each other more than twice. The chaotic route took us to a larger plaza that was dominated by a humungous Christmas tree. A man who was painted sparkly silver stood one hand and remained motionless. People dressed as gorillas, dalmatians, huge bears, and cartoon characters we couldn’t name weaved through the crowd. Many fascinating looking spots were so jammed with people that we went on our way . A singing group sang the praises of Santa in Spanish while a nearby chamber orchestra tried to calm the crowd with Mozart. We found an Asian café where we rested with meals that were delicious but too large. Our hunger satisfied, we returned to our room for a break.

The revelers who we saw were casually well dressed, we wondered where Madrid’s poor were hiding out. Madrid’s region has the highest average salary in Spain and contributes more to the national Domestic National Product than most other regions. At the same time, 20.9% of its citizens face the threat of poverty – this figure rises to 24% for teenagers and young adults. European researchers base poverty rates on income, but also on the availability of housing, food, and social services. In spite of its affluence, tax breaks in and around Madrid mean that regional authorities do not have resources to provide adequate social support. I am sure we would have seen more signs of poverty if we had left the festivities behind and ventured into other neighborhoods.

As mid afternoon approached, we decided that museums and other attractions would be very crowded because of the holiday, and decided to wander towards a botanical garden, Our route took us along less crowded streets that showed us old churches and practical businesses such as pharmacies, stationary stores and a bookstore or two. We passed a bar called Taberna de Conspiradores (Conspirator’s Tavern); we probably should have stopped for a beer. I did some unsuccessful Internet research on this place; all I could find was that it has great tapas, and the walls are covered with political graffiti in Spanish.

Our route also led us past a sculpture of arm-in-arm men with mournful faces. This is a memorial to labor leaders and activists who were killed by the dictator Franco’s brutal regime. His post-war reconstruction efforts aimed to remove signs of the destruction he unleashed on this city during the civil war. It is good that this monument was constructed to remind the world about him and that resistance was real.

Our destination was a more peaceful site - the Royal Botanical Garden of Madrid. This beautiful and extensive open space includes paths that wind through groves of hemlocks and other trees. Greenhouses shelter cacti and plants from tropical forests. As we decompressed from the day, we reflected that Madrid demanded a visit in a quieter and less crazy time. A light tapa dinner of humus and bread with patatas bravas ended the day, along with a bit of excellent Spanish white wine, and we prepared for our long flight back to the US.

ROYAL BOTANICAL GARDENS, MADRID

TRAVEL’S END - FOR NOW

Kate and I are curious travelers, who strive to know the wondrous and complicated world that is our home. I’ve shared some observations of Morocco and Andalucia, and some information that I’ve gathered about these amazing and complex places. Again, I don’t claim to be an expert on these topics, but I look forward to corrections and conversations about them. I’ll end with a poem that celebrates bittersweet travel.

LOVE SONG TO GRANADA

My wallet went on a journey

over cobblestone streets, past autumn’s maples.

by a river. Phoenicians and Greeks traded here.

Today my empty pocket gasped.

I reached down and squeezed, found nothing.

This thief was quiet, shooting-star quick.

Driver’s license was gone; passport was my sole i.d.

It might be stolen too, five thousand miles from home.

Health cards vanished. Slippery stairways

could hurl me down. I had no parachute.

I tumbled into fear, where Rome wrestled Carthage.

Hey pickpocket, are you sick and poor,

or some teen craving funds for McDonald’s and dope?

You gave me a lousy evening with Christmas lights

and fear. Islamic palace, high on a hill

later seized by Christian troops watched over all.

Many poor folk live here: plaza jugglers,

singers, the legless man who scowled and moaned,

the generous street sweeper who found you, wallet.

cowering in some gutter, gave you to the cops

then disappeared into shadows. What’s your name,

kind one? What joy can I share with you,

here where Garcia-Lorca’s house mourns him

and the other thousands who Franco slew?

Relieved, safe, I climb brick streets

past stone homes, gaze into the mountains’ clouds,

let drizzle cool my fear. Paella and wine

restored me. Keep the hundred Euros.

I still love Granada.

********************

REFERENCES AND ADDITIONAL READING

History of Madrid

https://www.historyextra.com/period/general-history/madrid-history/

ANTISEMITISM IN SPAIN

https://fra.europa.eu/sites/default/files/fra_uploads/fra-2019-2nd-survey-on-discrimination-and-hate-crime-against-jews-in-eu-ms-country-sheet-spain_en.pdf

constitution day https://www.timesofisrael.com/topic/antisemitism-in-spain/

poverty in madrid

https://russpain.com/en/news-3/in-madrid-a-quarter-of-children-and-teenagers-on-the-brink-of-poverty-in-2024-305858/#google_vignettehttps://russpain.com/en/news-3/in-madrid-a-quarter-of-children-and-teenagers-on-the-brink-of-poverty-in-2024-305858/

SEVILLE’S HISTORIC DISTRICT, OUR HOME FOR THREE NIGHTS

The Andalucian countryside was hilly after our bus left our post- Morocco ferry terminal on its way to Seville. The Mediterranean climate meant that the countryside resembled northern California, as parts of Morocco had, but the countryside seemed somewhat greener. We passed groves of oaks we couldn’t identify and trees that appeared to be eucalyptus. The terrain flattened in a while and we found ourselves in agricultural land famous for olives, wine grapes, and more.

We reached Seville’s historic district late in Saturday afternoon and waded through hordes of tourists to reach our hotel. The scene was different from Morocco’s simplicity; a large group seemed to be carousing after a wedding. Very manicured women in silky dresses and high heels gathered with men in sporty jackets who wore boots with high but thicker heels. Some couples flirted very openly– this would have been taboo in Morocco.

We checked into our hotel then ventured out to find dinner. Things were quieter – the large wedding party had left, and casually dressed travelers replaced them. We walked down cobblestone streets through the plaza, and found a quiet café where we feasted on vegetarian crepes, gazpacho, patatas bravas, and crusty bread as we began to get to know Seville.

A legend claims that Hercules founded this city, which now holds 686,700 to 713,000 people and turned it over to his son. Historians give a more realistic idea; they state that Tartessian settlers established it, that Phoenicians, Greeks and Carthaginians were influential later, until Rome gained control in around 200 BC, Gothic tribes lived here after Rome fell until north African invaders replaced them. Seville thrived and many considered it the most important city in Spain during the 12^th and 13^th centuries

Seville was economically important after Ferdinand and Isabella conquered Andalucia, especially during the heyday of the Spanish Empire, but it declined because of competition with Florence, Genoa, Lisbon, and the Netherlands. A plague ravaged it in 1649, but the Royal Tobacco Company helped revived it in1728. The political upsets that followed Napolean’s reign, along with regional conflicts and class contradictions led to turmoil. Seville was a center of opposition to the affluent and conservative church before the Spanish Civil War. Workers and radicals clashed with right wing forces, but Franco’s Nationalists gained brutal control until the dictator died in 1975.

The plaza was quieter on our next morning; we found a café that offered luscious mushroom benedict. We wandered through winding cobblestone alleys that were almost as labyrinth like as those in the main market in Fez, Morocco. Unlike those, they were in the open air and stone apartments sat atop the stores and bistros. Cars, except for delivery trucks and occasional taxis were thankfully scarce here, and there were no motorbikes. Churches held large crucifixes, some of them were grizzly. We turned onto a city street and passed the Royal Tobacco Factory, which was now a museum.

“Didn’t Carmen work in a tobacco factory?” Kate asked.

“Maybe, but you know the opera “Carmen” better than I do,” I grinned.

Nerds that we are, we made our way to Seville’s science museum, which occupies a building that resembles a palace. Skeletons of whales and dolphins from the Mediterranean hung from the ceiling. The main exhibit focused on the science behind a popular comic strip, but our very basic Spanish left us baffled. A virtual reality presentation about one of Andalucia’s ecological hot spots, made a lot more sense to us. We wandered through images of mountains, wetlands, and the coast. Wild boars, hares, a lynx, and cows in a pasture stared at us while flocks of birds dashed through the air. An exhibit about how the brain can be tricked by illusions fascinated us, but crowds of families who seemed to be on a post-church excursion soon filled the space and we left to find lunch.

We searched unsuccessfully for a restaurant called “Toby Eats the World” that offered vegetarian dishes and welcomed dogs, but wound up at a nice Venezuelan café. Seville’s Guadalquivir River walk takes strollers past stately buildings. The mood was peaceful as families and travelers greeted each other and Seville felt idyllic, but it is more complex.

Seville, like all of Spain has come to a relatively democratic and affluent time since the mid-1970s, but affluence is uneven. Andalucia is considered Spain’s least industrially developed and poorest region. We spent our time in peaceful districts, but beggars were on the streets. People in our hotel advised us to avoid some neighborhoods – a couple were similar to homeless encampment while poor workers lived in others that were plagued by the drug trade. Again, we only saw hints of these problems, but we are aware enough to realize they are real.

Our wanderings took us to Maria Luisa Park; we are great fans of urban parks and enjoy the fact that we encounter more locals than tourists in these special places. This well-planned open space gave us groves of palms and maples, and flocks of pigeons (which are native to Europe) circled us. Parrots, who must have been pets that had escaped squawked from trees, Black and white ducks with red beaks drifted around a tree-circled pond while fly catchers zipped after their air-borne prey.

FLAMENCO DANCERS IN PLAZA DE ESPANA, MARIA LUCIA PARK

We found ourselves in Plaza de Espana, a column filled structure in the park that was built for an exhibition in 1919 It included alcoves decorated with tile mosaics showing each region of Spain. A singer on a steep staircase played classical guitar, and two Flamenco dancers accompanied other musicians’ serenades as they whirled around each other. Most historians say that Flamenco’s roots stretch back to the Morisco people, north Africans who remained in Andalucia after Ferdinand and Isabella’s conquest.

The region’s wide range of cultures refined this art form, and Flamenco became a type of cultural resistance against the French during the Napoleonic occupation. It developed more during in cafes after the French left, but some intellectuals and radicals criticized it as culturally conservative. It remained popular among the people, and thinkers like Frederico Garcia-Lorca looked for a pure type of Flamenco with ancient roots. Franco’s nationalists embraced some types of Flamenco during their reign, but others became a type of rebellious music, including Flamenco protest songs during the 1960s. The genre remains popular, and by jazz, salsa, and pop music influence it, but traditional Flamenco stays strong.

Our walk back to the historic district was baffling as we sometime followed winding alleys, but the cathedral guided us home. We wandered through the plaza after dinner and entered this ancient church . Travelers took photos inf the main sanctuary, while locals prayed silently. A huge crucifix, surrounded by statues of Jesus’ apostles removing his body from this gibbet .dominated the space. Side altars included a statue of Mary praying by the cross, another of her with baby Jesus wearing a regal crown, and depictions of apostles and saints.

Darkness had drifted into the plaza by the time we left the cathedral, and the area blazed with Christmas lights. Stands beside the great church sold religious statues and pictures; others offered Santas, reindeer and elves. We strolled onto a nearby urban street and found holiday shoppers hurrying to clothing, food, and gift shops, then exhaustion guided us back to our hotel.

The next day was Monday; museums and historic sites were closed to give their staffs a rest after a hectic weekend. The day became a needed time of rest, reading, and writing in Maria Luisa Park. The evening took us to a small hall called Case de las Guitaras, a cultural center that offered traditional Flamenco performances. A guitarist began the show and led us through a maze of tempo and key changes. His fingers struck the strings like a rainstorm in all its stages from drizzle to a torrent and back. A percussionist joined him and used his hands to create rhythms that mimicked a quiet stream, an avalanche, and a wolf pack’s howls. He sang with a vocal range from a breeze in oaks to a meteor shower and thunder. The dancer who suddenly appeared had a body whose from shifted from water to wind to starlight to fire. Together they made passions become flesh. After the show, we skipped along the cobblestone streets to our hotel, and the performers filled our dreams.

GRANADA AND THE MOUNTAINS

GRANADA’S HILLS FROM THE ALHAMBRA

Seville is a relatively flat city. Fertile agricultural fields surround it, and the river flows softly through it. The approach to Granada (which has a population of 240,0000 people) grew more rugged as the train approached the Sierra Nevada mountains. In fact, the Turdillos people who built this settlement and called it Ivhirir probably saw it as a it as a place that could be easily defended. Rome eventually took it and called it Lliberis and turned it into a lagger city during the first and second centuries BC. Our taxi from the train station took us along narrow winding streets whose walls were often covered with graffiti. Many of the stores were closed, and few people were on the streets, giving us the impression that this was a low energy city. We soon learned about this mistake. People here tend to party late and to rest between 4 and 7 PM, but Granada wakes up after that.

After check-in, we wandered along cobblestone streets whose stores were topped with three story residences with balconies. The elaborate bridal shop and the men’s store, whose sport jacket and leather boot clad mannequins stood next to their motorcycles indicated that we were in an upscale area. A bookstore called to us, but our very basic Spanish would have made a visit futile. Bistros’ patios became crowded, and gas torches warmed the customers during the cool, occasionally rainy evening. We found a nice café where Kate had a regional chicken and pasta dish, and I enjoyed a garbanzo stew with spicy roast potatoes

The café we visited for breakfast only offered pastries, coffee, and tea, but it gave us a glimpse at day-to-day Granada. A flamboyant, wisecracking waitress traded jokes with crews of working men who stopped here to begin their day. We could barely understand a word they said, but the wild mood was impossible to ignore. After the meal, we caught a taxi that carried us along steep streets to the Alhambra.

The Romans and the later Visigoth settlers maintained settlements on these hills. Islamic people from Syria gained it in 745 AD. It remained contested among various groups until Ibhin Al- Ahmar conquered it in during the 13^th century. His dynasty built the Alhambra; his descendants ruled in Granada until Christian troops loyal to Ferdinand and Isabella took the city in 1482. They admired this amazing structure; their additions emphasized their Christian vision for Spain. Later The day again was cold and sprinkly, but the gardens, courtyards, pillared rooms and elaborate tile mosaics in the walls grabbed us. We gazed from terraces over the Sierra Madre foothills which were covered with stone houses that were centuries old.

We wandered through a drizzle down a street made from slippery cobblestones. Rows of maples shone their autumn kaleidoscopes. We approached downtown and found ourselves walking past small cafes, stores that sold local artwork and jewelry, and vegetable stands for locals. We came to a plaza in a busy business district and something in me whispered, “Check on your wallet.” I grabbed the pocket where I carried it and a famished feeling trapped me when I realized it was gone.

I plunged into fear – my cash was gone, along with bank cards, my Medicare cards, and my drivers’ license, – my only form of ID other than my passport. I’d wisely left that document in our room and carried a copy, We made our way to a police station where I struggled to fill out a report in Spanish. After that I spent a lousy evening calling my banks in the US. Still, I swore to myself that I would still love Granada.

The police called the next morning and said a street sweeper found the wallet in a gutter and turned it in. Kate and I dashed to the station, elated and baffled – we had no idea of how to claim the wallet. The room was full of people who seemed to be applying for permits, getting legal information, or reporting crimes. Two women told me in a combination of Spanish and basic English that I needed to get a ticket to reserve a place in the line. While I tried to figure out the ticket machine, a smiling cop handed Kate my wallet. 100 Euros were gone, but my bank cards (which I’d cancelled), my driver’s license, and Medicare cards remained. Whew!

Large parts of Seville and Granada are more affluent than rural areas in Andalucia, and unemployment declined in this region between 2018 and 2024. Still, some sections of both cities experience the same poverty and dislocation that plague other parts of southern Spain; Andalucia’s unemployment rate is the country’s highest. Every fourth person in this region experiences social isolation that is based on job insecurity and housing shortages. Poverty has declined, but 400,000 Andalucian households still deal with it, sometimes to an extreme degree. High rents and a shortage of housing opportunities especially effect young people. I don’t know if my personal pickpocket was dealing with these issues, but the likelihood is real.

DARRO RIVER WALK

We saw beggars and other broken-down locals as we walked along the Darro River, past centuries old houses, churches, and convents. A steep street took us into high into the city’s hilly Sacromonte district where white stone houses faced the Alhambra and the mountains. This neighborhood has long been a community for Roma people (who often resent the term “Gypsies”). Their ancestors moved from India to southern Europe the 14^th century; some may have come to Granada as part of Ferdinand and Isabella’s army in 1492. Many lived in caves to avoid cultural and religious persecution; over the centuries, they contributed strongly to the development of flamenco culture.

We wanted to reach the caves, but our legs still ached from our excursions into Tangier’s heights, and we returned to town. This was another cold and drizzly day; we were thankful to find a Sacromonte neighborhood café where we had hot chocolate. Granada’s version of this drink is as thick as warm chocolate pudding; it’s quite delicious to travel weary bones.

I had vegetarian paella and Kate enjoyed mushroom risotto to cap off the day. Our drizzly evening took us through Christman season festivities in the plaza near our hotel. Revelers crowded bistros gas torch warmed patios, and children rode a Ferris wheel that was decorated with holiday lights. People enjoyed churros, a Mexican pastry that is popular in this region. Granada’s poverty became visible when an acrobat, a classical guitarist, and a folk music troupe all performed for the crowd, and received small donations; a legless beggar had bad luck. As we packed for Madrid that night, we reflected that Granada and Seville, with all their beauty, are bittersweet – like the world. 2,522 words

REFERENCES AND FUTURE READING

HisTORY OF SEVILLE

https://www.cyclefiesta.com/extensions/seville.htm#:~:text=Seville%20was%20already%20a%20thriving,14

AFFLUENT AND POOR NEIGHBORHOODS IN SEVILLE

https://www.studentsville.it/seville-study-abroad/neighborhoods-in-seville/

FLAMENCO

https://www.donquijote.org/spanish-culture/traditions/flamenco/

HISTORY OF GRANADA

https://www.lovegranada.com/guides/granada-history/

SOCIAL PROBLEMS IN ANDALUCIA AND GRANADA

https://russpain.com/en/news-3/a-quarter-of-andalusias-population-in-social-isolation-zone-379226/

So long for now, Morocco!

Ferries Rock!

Kate and I rose before dawn to catch a taxi to a ferry terminal north of Tangier. Darkness faded slowly and hid the coastal mountains from us. We passed through towns that were filled with early morning lights as Moroccans got ready for work, and we had time for a cup of tea before our ferry departed for Andalucia.

Our love affair with ferries includes overnight trips from France to Ireland, and from Stockholm to Helsinki. The journey through Norway’s spectacular fjord country ranks near the top. This trip across the Mediterranean to southern Spain was relatively short but enthralling. Our fellow passengers included a man who practiced Islamic morning prayers in the space that the boat provided, a French couple who carried a small dog in a basket, and many people who gathered on the deck for photo opportunity. A high, rounded mountain in Morocco receded as we passed the Rock of Gibraltar, whose city was bigger than either of us dreamed. Portugal’s hilly coast was greener than Morocco’s, we could pick out oaks and other trees as we moved towards Spain.

Many writers and artists have commented that mountain ranges and the coast set Andalucia apart from nearby Spanish regions. It shares many plants and animals with northern Africa, and much of the culture has roots in that region. Our time here was a thrill. We wandered along centuries old historical alleyways and streets; some in Granada were as steep as those in Tangiers. Granada’s Alhambra, a palace that originated in the regions’ Islamic era is a strong sign of religious and cultural change.

Patatas bravas, gazpacho, and other tapas became favorite meals; we are light drinkers, but Spanish wine is wonderful. We found flamenco dancers in a Seville park, and attended a traditional performance that night. Crowds of Christmas revelers surrounded us in all three cities, especially Madrid. I will share other details in future articles, but I always remember that there are many things that even aware and observant travelers don’t see, and must research if they want to begin to understand a place. I also said this about Morocco – I do not begin to claim I’m an expert on Andalucia’s history and culture; this is an overview of things I’ve picked up. I am very open to criticisms and corrections.

Rock of Gibraltar from Our Ferry

A Brief Look at History

Evidence of Neanderthal settlements that are dated between 70,000 and 24,000 BC exist on the Rock of Gibraltar and in Andalucia; these may have been this species’ last homes. Homo sapiens’ settlements date from 25,000 . These people appear to have been primarily hunter gatherers. Farmers from north Africa arrived around 6,000 BC, they either raised olives or gathered wild ones, and they introduced domestic rabbits and pigs. Phoenician traders settled on the coast but were not interested in political domination; they established Cadiz, Europe’s oldest continuously inhabited city in 1100 BC. They promoted iron production, olive oil trade, and cultivation of wine. Celtic settlers also arrived around 800 BC.

Carthage dominated the region beginning from around 700 BC The Carthaginian general Hannibal approached Rome through Andalucia during the Punic Wars; one major battle took place near present day Seville and Rome became the dominant power dominant after Carthage fell in 146 B.C. Julius Caesar and his rival Pompey fought battles here; Roman control remained after Caesar’s assassination in 44 BC. Christians, including St. Paul found themselves in different parts of Andalusia, and missionaries settled here after the Roman Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity.

Visigoths and other tribes moved into Spain after Rome fell. North Africans moved in and established the kingdoms of Cordoba, Seville, Granada, Toledo, and Badajoz beginning around 700 AD. These were tense days of shifting alliances and power struggles as Islamic societies in Andalucia faced clashes with Christian kingdoms to their north. Philosophy, architecture, astronomy, and literature flourished; these settlers also introduced irrigation to this dry region and made agriculture a priority. The admittedly little bit of reading I’ve done doesn’t support or reject the common claim that these societies made equality and social justice a priority, but Christians, Jews, and Islamic people lived together at least semi-cooperatively. This changed.

Ferdinand, the heir to the throne of Aragorn and Isabella, the sister to Henry IV of Castille married in 1469. This union brought formerly divided Christian powers in the north together, and led to a crusade against Islamic Andalucia that was partly funded by the Vatican. Granada was the last city to fall in 1492. Jews were forced to convert to Christianity or leave the region; many moved to northern Africa.

Descendants of the North Africans who had settled in Andalucia were now called Mudejars, which is seen as a legal but not insulting name. They were second class citizens, and Granada in particular became a segregated city as settlers arrived from the north. The newcomers also saw the Mudejars as a source of cheap labor, and admired their skills in agriculture, architecture, and other fields. At first, the new rulers tried to use persuasion and teaching skills to convince these people to convert to Christianity; Ferdinand and Isabella supported this initiative.

Many Mudejars became Christians because they thought the needed to do this to survive in this new world, but many others stayed with their original religion and customs or pretended to convert while secretly keeping their Islamic practices. Many arrivals from Northern Spain, including some church officials respected the Mudejars’ culture, language, and dress while continuing to encourage them to become Christians. Other settlers and officials were far less tolerant.

As time went on, forced conversions became the policy. Mudejars in Granada were sometimes forced into groups and sprinkled with holy water, a kind of mass baptism, and officials burned books that were written in Arabic. A failed uprising by Mudejars led to a strengthening of this policy. Mudejars were brutally forced to leave Granada and other parts of Andalucia in 1570; some moved to the countryside, others were sent to Northern Africa, a place that was not their home. They compared their exile to Adam and Eve’s expulsion from Eden.

Spanish kings and nobles now stressed Catholicism in Andalucia and other regions. The Spanish Empire gained wealth and prominence for a while; resources from Central and South America enriched many prominent people, including some church officials. Much of the money was used to build palaces, churches, and monasteries. Class divisions and economic differences among rural and urban people also dominated these years. The Spanish also clashed with Protestant kingdoms in northern Spain; these struggles contributed to the decline but not collapse of their empire, and fewer resources made life difficult for many people.

Napoleon Bonaparte placed his brother Joseph on Spain’s throne in 1806. The French rulers imposed a fairly liberal constitution in 1812 to counter what they saw as Catholic Spain’s backward culture; this move did not improve poor peoples’ situation. Kind Ferdinand VII gained power in 1813 and abolished this constitution. He was an absolutist monarch and a despot who strongly repressed workers’ and women’s rights, along with civil liberties and more liberal forms of Catholicism. Conflicts raged between landowners and conservative church leader against liberals, radicals, and poor people for decades.

Spain lost its final colonies in Cuba and the Philippines in the early 20^th century; this led to economic decline that effected the poor hardest. Political conflicts led to the establishment of a left liberal republic in 1931; but Francisco Franco and his fascist allies rebelled against it in 1936. The resulting civil war pitted conservatives, monarchists, and the church hierarchy against liberals, communists, anarchists, and leaders who wanted their regions to gain autonomy from Spain. A wide range of anti- fascists (including Ernest Hemingway, George Orwell, and Jessica Mitford) came to Spain from around the world to support the Republic.

The war was bitter in Andalucia and the rest of the country. Franco’s allies executed thousands of people, including Blas Infante, who’d led an Andalucian independence movement for decades, and the anti-fascist poet Fredrico Garcia-Lorca The war ended in April 1, 1939 when Franco followed his troops into Madrid. Resistance continued in Andalucia and elsewhere, but the dictator ruled with an iron hand, while staying out of WWII, until his death in 1975.

ANDALUCIA TODAY

Spain became a democracy after Franco’s end, and Andalucia was granted semi-autonomy. Economic conditions have improved, but the situation is complex. Poverty and unemployment remain problems, particularly in rural areas. A system of absentee landholding in agriculture (which some writers claim has roots in Roman times) contributes to this situation. Outsiders own many enterprises, including much of the famous sherry industry. This is a dry region that experiences droughts, sometimes followed by times of heavy rain. Irrigation along the line that north Africans established makes this situation better.

Then there is the issue of tourism, which is a problem across Europe and the rest of the world. We were never threatened in Venice or Barcelona, although we did see posters and graffiti that indicated hostility to some travelers, and we’ve heard of clashes. The situation in Andalucia seemed less tense, maybe because we weren’t there during the peak of tourist season, and many locals strive to educate travelers to empathize with their lives. Still, problems exist that are the same as issues in other areas. Travelers clog city buses that people need go to work and to other responsibilities and pleasures. Neighborhoods are filled with tourist oriented rentals that locals can’t afford. Food stores turn into bars and souvenir stands, and historic districts lose much of their character as crowds of tourists dominate them. This is especially a problem when these people are loud and drunk and when they scatter litter.

So, there we were: a couple of travelers who try hard to be aware of their surroundings and to present ourselves as regular people and not oblivious tourists. We stay in relatively simple lodgings, often eat in the same restaurants that locals visit, and do not dress in flashy ways; we are happy to travel this way. Still, I often wonder if people in places like Morocco and Andalucia see us as visitors who are trying to learn about their world. We show them this when we get into conversations, and, if they are interested, we tell them about life in these United States. These are goals to strive for.

My next post will share the marvels we found in Andalucia. We visited Seville, Granada, and Madrid, and discovered their fascinating beauty while keeping our eyes open for contradictions. This piece will come soon; watch this space.

Approaching Andalucia

REFERENCES AND FORTHER READING

HISTORY

City of Illusions: A History of Granada Helen Rogers and Stephen Cavendish, Oxford University Press, 2021

History of Andalucia website https://www.andalucia.com/history/home.htm

CURRENT ISSUES

ANDALUCIA Michael Jacobs, Pallas Athene Publisher, London, 2006

Tourism https://www.andalucia360travel.com/en/descubrir/problems-neighbours-tourism-andalucia/

The Medina in Fez from a hilltop

If it weren’t for signs in Arabic, we might have thought Fez’s New City resembled Manhattan. Traffic refused to stop at crosswalks and people had to gather in big groups to walk in front of horn blaring cars. Bistros, cafes, office buildings, and banks were everywhere, along with clothing stores, hotels, and occasional bars. This felt like a fairly upscale part of New Town, although beggars with outstretched palms made their presence known.

History and explorations showed us that Fez is anything but Manhattan. Pastoral farmers and nomads made this area their home in ancient times. They may have interacted with Phoenicians who were interested in trade instead of political domination. Carthage later controlled the area, demanding taxes, military service, and slaves. Roman influence came after Carthage fell; this empire granted locals a degree of autonomy as long as olive oil and other products followed a road that led to Rome.

Local tribes interacted with Islamic settlers several centuries after Rome fell. Indris I established Fez in 789; his son Indris II expanded it to include markets and a mosque. It grew because it was close to trade routes and water sources. Newcomers from southern Spain and northern Africa brought cultural and technical skills, and the city became an intellectual center.

Fez and Morocco experienced a series of governing dynasties for centuries. Colonialism intervened when Portugal took some coastal cities in the 15^th century; Sultan Moulay Ismael, who ruled Morocco in the late 17^th and early 18^th centuries drove them out. European countries strove to control Morocco, which some saw as a gateway to Africa. France and Spain supported a revolt in 1911, and both established protectorates over different parts of the country, although sultans were allowed to remain on the throne. An independence movement rose, leading to violent classes; a document that was signed in Fez in 1957 gave Morocco its independence.

Fez has long been socially divided between the Fassis, the descendants of the original inhabitants, and the Roubis, recent rural immigrants. The Fassis tend to live in the Medina,, or Old City and see this as a sign of urban sophistication, while the Roubis traditionally reside in areas outside of the city’s boundaries. The French designed New City as a sophisticated home for their settlers during colonization; some Fassis moved there after independence. The Roubis now assert their importance as citizens of Fez, and more interactions, including marriages between the groups have become common. Cultural and language differences remain, however, along with poverty.

Our tour group gazed at the medina, or Old City from a position high on a hill, This UNESCO World Heritage Site, which dates from the 11^th century resembles a maze with no center. A 17 acre wall with 12 gates surrounds this area,. More than 1,000 enclosed, meandering streets all have names,; our guide said a traveler would need at least two months to really get to know this place. She is a life-long resident who showed our group the way around for hours without losing one of us.

A walk through Fez’s Medina plunges a traveler deeply into the city’s history and culture. We entered through an enclosed alley that was as dark as dusk and just wide enough for a person to stretch their arms. Wooden doors in the walls showed us that people lived here. We had to avoid bumping our heads on this passageway’s low ceiling as it led us to a wider space. Produce vendors sold carrots, pumpkins, huge tomatoes, and massive numbers of olives. We constantly dodged shoppers who rushed in the opposite direction, and had to stand against walls when vendors pushing carts warned us to get out of the way in Arabic from behind. We passed markets that displayed huge slabs of meat and big barrels full of sardines. One store had a camel’s head on a wall, but I don’t think Moroccans eat camels.

Morocco is a country of slippery stairways without handrails. One set took us to another market that offered apples, potatoes, carrots, and every conceivable type of bread. Cats were everywhere; one focused so hard on its sardine meal that several people almost stepped on it. We passed through a clothing market where locals and travelers chose from massive numbers if dresses and purses, long robes and slippers. The clothes were of every conceivable color; many were covered with complex geometric patterns. A huge numbers of cell phones rounded out the experience. A parade of drummers in yellow robes filled the hallway with elaborate rhythms. I wanted to take a photo, but our guide warned me they would demand a lot of money.

Our journey took us to a three-story marble room where we could rest. Boys from pre-school through college attended this school, where they had to memorize the Koran. They also studied history, math, and many other subjects before going on to specialize in medicine and other careers. The school stopped operating in 1960. We stopped at a café where we feasted on tagines, traditional dishes made from a range of ingredients and cooked in clay pots, and cous-cous dishes that included enough of the delicious grain to feed three people. We moved towards an exit and passed a university, which a woman founded in the 9^th century. It still operates; we watched students wash in a pool to purify themselves before prayers and classes. We made our way into the outside world, very tired but exhilarated.

Our group later stopped at a modern shopping complex in the New City.. The customers here dressed in western fashions; burkas were scarce and make-up was plentiful. The center included a pharmacy and a government-controlled liquor store, along with other businesses. We bought some food and a couple bottles of Moroccan wine, and returned to the hotel to rest and decompress.

WE DIDN’T RIDE ON THE MARRAKESH EXPRESS

The Main Square in Marrakesh

The train from Fez to Marrakesh stopped at several towns, so it wasn’t an express; also, ducks and pigs and chickens weren’t running around. We traveled through irrigated agricultural land and through some stunning desert habitat. Seventy foot high sand dunes and plants that adapted to a dry habitat surrounded us, while the Atlas Mountains’ foothills ringed this region. Why didn’t Graham Nash describe this area in his song?

Marrakesh was founded in 1062, making it more than 1,000 years old. It developed from a settlement along a trade route between Fez and Timbuktoo, in present day Mali, and gave caravans a place to rest in a flat area where they could watch for bandits. Our guide said that the journey took roughly 60 days; there was no straight road, and traders needed to meander through the mountains to avoid marauders. A rebellious religious sect seized Marrakech in 1147. One article stated that this group’s leader refused to enter the settlement because he felt the mosques’ physical orientation was incorrect, but he realigned them several years later.

The city was the capitol of three Moroccan dynasties; Fez followed it. Marrakesh became the main city again in the 15^th Century. Islamic and Jewish refugees from the Spanish Inquisition came there to live. French and Spanish colonialism effected Marrakesh as much as other parts of Morocco, but it became more stable after independence.

Our guide told us that Morocco has the fourth strongest economy in Africa; countries such as Libya and Nigeria produce oil and gas. Morocco is the most visited country in Africa, and travelers contribute much to its finances. It also exports agricultural products to Europe, holds 60% of the world’s phosphates, and works to develop the agricultural sector. Poverty remains very real; neighborhoods in Marrakesh’s New Town have higher rates of high school graduates and houses with bathrooms and showers than areas around the Medina. Still, city people have a higher standard of living than agricultural towns and communities in the Atlas Mountains. A range of community groups, such as the High Atlas Foundation which concentrates on literacy and women’s issues. Strive to improve conditions

I wondered about the man who guided Kate and me to Marrakesh’s medina on the morning after the tour ended. We’d planned to take a bus, but found ourselves overwhelmed by traffic that made the congestion in Fez seem mild. This fellow approached us and said, “Remember me from the hotel? You will get lost if you take the bus. I will hail a taxi for us.”

This was fortunate, we would have been hopelessly lost otherwise. He rode with us to the Medina, and promptly guided is into its enclosed market. “It’s a big sale today!” he said. “What do you want? Jewelry? Slippers? Belts?” We wondered if he had a financial connection with some of the merchants.

I finally said, “Look, we have been in many markets and are wearing out. We just want to walk.” In haste I gave him the equivalent of $30. He thanked me and disappeared. I really doubt that he worked at our hotel; people often come up with unique and creative strategies so they can survive.

Marrakesh’s medina is as energizing, chaotic, and fascinating as the one in Fez. We walked through a market with many barrels of olives, and I do love olives! Green ones are not ripe, pink have partly matured, and black are as ripe as they can be. Olive merchants present the whole range, which they pickle in salt water, garlic, and herbs for a variety of flavors. We watched workers with hammers pound metal to form lanterns. I am a tea drinker, but I enjoyed cup of spicy coffee that was warmed by hot sand. The staff in a spice and herb shop showed us a big range of seasonings and we did a little holiday shopping.

Motorbikes are the medina’s major problem. They careened through the passageways, barely missing walkers and filling the halls with their screeches and roars. The markets were soothingly calm when the motorbikes are gone, but then they returned. I don’t know how many people they’ve injured, and why they aren’t regulated.

Marrakesh’s main square, which lies just outside of the medina became a UNESCO world heritage site in 2003 to preserve traditional music, storytelling, and crafts. We left the enclosed market and found ourselves in a world of drums, flute music, and all kinds of crafts. I bought handmade winter hats for my two great nephews. Cafes with every conceivable type of coffee surrounded the plaza. We thought about poverty when we saw snake charmers who strove to entice travelers to watch their performances, and people who offered to take pictures of customers with leashed monkeys. The call to prayer rang from mosques, but the blasts from jackhammers and screaming motorbikes nearly drowned it. We needed a break.

We got a wonderful rest at a huge urban park, an environmental initiative in the crowded city. Palm trees and many other species that we couldn’t identify shielded us from traffic’s blasts. Unknown flowers and bird songs soothed us; interpretive panels written in Arabic and French explained who they were, but we could only enjoy them without naming them. A group of preschoolers followed their teachers and sat in a meadow. We’ve both worked with kids, so we loved their laughter and songs.

We had to wander through traffic clogged streets and winding alleys in the main square to find a museum of music. This fascinating place places traditional instruments into categories; there are stringed ones, woodwind types, percussion, and more. Visitors are welcome to play some of them. We watched videos of musical gatherings in the Atlas Mountains and other parts of the region. Women led some of them, many were nature based ceremonies. We then wandered through a thriving market that was mostly oriented towards local people, enjoyed a fine dinner, and reached our hotel as evening crept in. Marrakesh is hectic and fascinating; if I am lucky I will compare notes with Graham Nash one day.

TANGIER AND THE COAST

A Stairway in Tangier

Tangier began as a Carthaginian settlement in the fifth century BC in an area that Phoenician traders often visited. It became a Roman city around 100 BC, and was part of the Byzantine empire between the 4^th and 5^th centuries AD. Arabs were dominant after 700 AD, but the Portuguese intruded between the 14^th and 16^th centuries. King Charles II of England received Tangier as part of his dowry when he married Princes Catherine of Braganza in 1662. Sultan Moulay Indris blockaded the city and drove the British out, but they destroyed the port as they left. Happily, the port was rebuilt after their departure.

Several European posers coveted Tangier, seeing it as a gateway to Africa. It became an international zone held by Britain, France, Spain, and Italy until WWII. Spain controlled it afterwards; it rejoined the rest of Morocco after the war. It was seen as a run-down port city and a haven for smugglers, criminals, secret agents and spies during the international zone days; James Bond passed through during some of his adventures. Morocco revived its port after independence, and restored the city. It is now an industrial center, and it relies heavily on tourism

Many travelers see Tangiers as a beautiful and romantic city, and this Is true. Henri Matisse spent time here, intrigued by the quality of its light. Writers Paul Bowles and William Burroughs made their homes here. It became a hippie destination during the 1960s; the Beatles and Rolling Stones passed through, and one of Bob Dylan’s ex-lovers might have been here. Sorry Bob, we didn’t see her and couldn’t say help.

Typically, many guests do not notice the poverty that Moroccans struggle with. Also, refugees from other African countries come to Tangiers,hoping to make a leap to Europe. Restrictions on immigration and bureaucratic red tape strand many of them here. They often work for low wages under the table in construction and other fields, They compete with locals for social services and for jobs, adding tension to parts of Tangier.

We certainly noticed poverty on Tangier’s narrow alleys and winding staircases. We wondered if the men who constantly approached us and asked, “Where are you going? I’ll take you there!” we had other sources of income. Also, how did the many market stands and businesses survive, and how did the beggars get by?

Still, no one can deny that Old Town is fascinating and gorgeous. This is a city of steep stairways that take you to spots where you gaze over sea-foam white houses towards Spain, across the Mediterranean Buildings are pressed together like layer cakes; cafes and restaurants call from their rooftops. We passed spice and herb stores, places that sold unimaginable types of coffee and tea, jewelers, slipper merchants, and olives, of course, Tangier also held the only cinema we encountered in Morocco; it was showing Moroccan movies and “Wicked: For Good”.

We visited an art museum high on a hill with a 360degree view of the Mediterranean and Tangier’s neighborhood covered hills. The current exhibit is called Light on Africa. It features beautifully creative paintings, videos, sculptures, and collages by artists in many African countries; the theme is the continent’s need for electricity, with a focus on green energy. A historic museum became our next stop. The exhibit included artifacts from bronze age settlers in this area, and others from the Romans who used this region as a source of fish and wine for their city. Other exbibits covered the Byzantine period and later times; while it was fascinating, our knees ached because of the endless steep staircases.

The constant stairs made us feel lightheaded and tired; we stopped in a small café with windows that overlooked the sea. A group of French musicians sang together while one played a guitar; we wondered if they might be expatriates, but our French was too weak for us to try to talk to them. We played peek-a-boo with their grinning two year old.

The traffic on Tangier’s hilly neighborhoods is slight, making this area far more relaxing than Fez or Marrakesh. The cumulous white houses are relatively large, and some have yards that overlook the sea. This is probably an affluent area, but a teenage boy on a skateboard asked us one durhan, roughly the equivalent of 11 cents. He left us alone when we politely declined.

We stopped in a small park and enjoyed cookies and juice at a picnic table. Our wanderings took us to a hillside that included remains of Phoenician sailor’s graves; a man who wore a long robe gazed at them and the sea as if he were in a trance. Steep streets and winding alleys led us back to Old Town, past luggage stores, jewelry stores, candy stores, money exchanges, barrels of sardines, tea stores, and barber shops. The streets were crowded, many people must have left work, but cars remained scarce.

A taxi ride to Hercules Cave, south pf Tangiers on the coast completed our visit to this region – sadly, I left my camera in the hotel. The coastal mountains reminded me a little of the Big Sur region in California, but since I don’t know about these African landforms’ geological origin, I can’t say if they are similar. We stopped at a lighthouse the French built, and I pulled myself up the spiral staircase for the spectacular view from the top. The guard gave me two thumbs up when I returned to the bottom. The Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean connect in this area. We passed two markers that claimed to point to the meeting spot, who knows if either is accurate?

The cave is a limestone formation that is next to the Atlantic. Old tales claim that Hercules rested here during his Eleventh Labor, the quest for the Golden Apples from Hesperides’ Garden, and that this is his final resting place. A big opening resembles a map of Africa, and the ocean roars just beyond it; it looks like a woman’s face from another angle. The cave’s roof reminded us of layers of dark fudge or brown storm clouds. One formation looked like a tree trunk that grew right through the cave’s roof. We explored this wondrous place then made our way back to Tangiers, found a fine vegetarian restaurant where we feasted on pumpkin soup, vegie meat balls, a nut dish with avocado sauce, and crusty bread. This was our last night in Morocco; we miss it..

Travelers, even curious and aware ones, miss a lot wherever we go. I don’t claim to be an expert on Moroccan culture, history, and politics, and I am very open to comments and corrections. I need a little break, but I’ll move onto Andalusia (southern Spain) soon. Peace.

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REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING

History of Fez

https://riad-layalina-fes.com/ryad-fez/tourism-fez-history-of-fes/

https://www.algilafes.com/en/fez-middle-atlas/fes/history/33/

Social conditions in Fez

https://timelessfez.com/stories/fez-exploring-the-social-spatial-and-identity-dynamics-of-the-millennial-city

History of Marrakesh

https://www.introducingmarrakech.com/history

Social conditions in Marrakesh https://www.moroccoworldnews.com/2022/06/44775/marrakech-ndash-it-is-time-to-think-about-health-as-development-in-urban-territories/

History of Tangier

https://medcities.org/member/tanger/#:~:text=The%20history%20of%20Tangier%20is,a%20refuge%20for%20many%20cultures.

https://www.archnet.org/authorities/3987

https://bluedoorcuisine.com/historical-facts-about-tangier-morocco/#:~:text=It%20was%20initially%20founded%20by,of%20a%20Berber%20god%3A%20Tinjis.

Social conditions in Tangier

https://globalist.yale.edu/in-the-magazine/features/bound-between-borders-in-tangier/

RIF MOUNTAINS

A WALK IN CASABLANCA

I will always regret that our travel schedule only gave Kate and me part of an afternoon and a bit of the next morning before our tour left for other parts. We set off to find a vegetarian meal before our tour’s orientation that evening; sadly, we left our cameras in the hotel.. We both love the movie “Casablanca” and wanted to find a place that calls itself Rick’s Café for a quick beer, but massive construction meant that many streets were under repair and blocked. Kate’s phone couldn’t give us revised directions, so we wound up just taking a hungry walk.

Casablanca, with its roughly 4,000,000 residents is fascinating and overwhelming. Traffic can be frantic, and motorbike riders often ignore pedestrians as they zip past cars. Big plastic bags foll of clothes and other goods that would be shipped to other ports blocked parts of sidewalks, forcing us and many others into the street. We passed many cafes where locals relaxed at outdoor tables, but few restaurants. Fruit stands along the sidewalks demanded our attention; other vendors sold wallets, slippers, and other necessary things. Cats walked, jumped, and climbed everywhere; they did the same things in every Moroccan town or city we visited. We saw a number of very down and out folks begging on the street. We heard that they were all drug addicts, but I question this.

We eventually found a restaurant in a marketplace where the staff enthusiastically guided us to a table. They brought us cold lentil soup, salad, tomato sauce, an eggplant dish, and delicious crusty bread. A man who passed through the market tried to sell us belts as we ate, and drummers began to play a high-energy rhythm that made us and others clap.. The waiters wanted to bring us more food after our many delicious appetizers, but we thanked them, paid, and left as everyone blew kisses our way.

Casablanca wakes early, and workers placed more clothes-stuffed plastic bags on the sidewalks by our hotel. Pedicab drivers gather them and took them to the port. This city is considered Morocco’s economic hub; its beaches, clubs, historical sites, and festivals, appeal to tourists. Many of these visitors never hear that people in Casablanca, like those in other parts of Morocco faces issues such as troubled hospitals and schools, drought conditions, political corruption, and other conditions that led to big demonstrations during the fall of 2025.

RICK BLAINE IS FICTITIOUS, BUT…

We both love the movie “Casablanca” and had to wonder if it gives an accurate look at life here in 1942. It does, to an extent; conditions were harsh, but not romantic. Many people came here as they fled the advancing Nazi armies. Casablanca was North Africa’s largest port, and these refugees came to seek visas for America, Canada, and Mexico. Others hoped for papers that would get them to Lisbon, a jumping off spot for many places. Some of these people were intellectuals and political refugees (like Rick Blaine), as the movie shows, but it doesn’t mention that most of them were Jewish.

France claimed Morocco as a protectorate in 1917, but allowed the sultan to remain on the throne. French officials thought Mohammed V would be a weak puppet, and placed him in power rather than his brother in 1927. However, he considered himself the final authority regarding people who lived in his country. After Germany occupied France in 1940, Mohammed stunned the pro-Nazi Vichy government when he resisted their orders to restrict where Jews could live, work, and go to school, and welcomed them in his court. I don’t think a monarchy is a good thing, but Mohammed IV’s audacity probably blocked moves that would have led to Jewish people being deported.

Jewish refugees and others did live in Moroccan internment camps where they faced dehydration, hunger, disease, and a bureaucracy that made visas hard to obtain. Casablanca had a large Jewish community and many of these people helped refugees find housing, guided them through regulations about visas, and provided financial help. Sorry, gang, Rick’s Café Americain is fictional (except for its current incarnation as a tourist spot). The American consulate was the closest thing to a community meeting place. The staff here did their best to help refugees, but they were often overwhelmed by the crowds.

Britain and the U. S. began Operation Torch to liberate Morocco and Algeria from the Nazis in early November, 1942; they took Casablanca on November 24. Life remained hard for refugees, partly because British ships blockading the African coast made it difficult for transport ships to get through. “Casablanca” opened on November 26 in New York City, and Warner Brothers used events in Morocco to promote it. Free French activists paraded down Fifth Avenue before the movie started, and gathered on stage to sing the Marseillaise after the film’s end. Warner Brothers, to its credit, shared $9000 of its profits from the film with efforts to help refugees. I will always love “Casablanca”, and I want to see more of this city.

INTO THE RIF MOUNTAINS

Our tour took us onto a high-speed train to Tangier on the morning after our afternoon of wandering through Casablanca. We’d heard that Moroccan trains were uncomfortable, but this one was at least as pleasant as any we’ve ridden on in the U.S. or Europe, and its café car had an extensive menu, including a vegetarian Thai lunch. The tour only spent a few hours in Tangier; Kate and I returned for a few independent days later; I will comment more on this wonderful city in my next article.

A van took us from Tangiers into the Rif Mountains; these are part of the Gibraltar Arc, a formation that unites Southern Europe with northern Morocco. Northern Morocco and northern California, both have Mediterranean climates and these high, craggy peaks support a plant community that resembles the chaparral that thrives in much of our home turf. The windy road showed us spectacular scenery, and passed through small towns where outdoor markets surrounded mosques. One larger community was clogged with cars, while crowds walked along the roads. Vendors sold fruit, clothes, meat, and practically everything else from their outdoor stands. I’ll note that indigenous Moroccans call themselves Imizaghen; this means Free People in their language. They dislike the name Berber, which originated when the Romans called them barbarians.

Morocco’s rural and mountainous regions experience more poverty than the more affluent cities. Many people rely on subsistence agriculture in the Rif mountains, and unemployment is high. Remote towns sometimes have difficulty accessing electricity, and inadequate roads make contact health care professionals hard. People get water from communal wells, and droughts hit them harder than city dwellers. The people are strong and resilient, and strong family and community ties and organizations support them through difficult times.

A STAIRWAYIN CHEFCHAOUEN

Chefchaouen, the Blue City was our mountain home for two nights, along with 42-46,000 residents. Moulay Ali Ben Rochid, who was a descendent of Mohammed founded this fortress town in 1471 to defend the city of Fez from Portuguese incursions. The town also protected trade routes around Fez. It became a mountain haven for Jewish and Islamic people who fled the Spanish Inquisition, and later for Jews who escaped the Nazis during WWII.

Jewish people may have started the tradition of painting buildings in the 15^th Century. This hypothesis states that they saw the color as a reminder of the sky and God’s presence, and as a symbol of peace, safety, and spirituality. However, Chefchaouen’s Islamic people have long painted buildings blue. This may be because the color reflects sunlight in summertime, and because mosquitoes avoid blue things. maybe they have always liked blue buildings! Some writers claim that French artists who lived here during the nineteenth century added to the tradition

This hilly city’s medina, or old area and its labyrinth of streets holds all of the sky’s variations on blue. Medinas always include a mosque, a fountain, a bakery, and public baths or their remnants. One bakery has been here since the 1400s. We visited another where we watched a baker push a tray full of round bread into a wood-fired oven. Local cats leapt, slept, and wandered all over the place. They were lovable, but our guide warned us not to pet them; they might bite!

Winding, stone streets lead us to alleys that flowed into each other like blue rivers. Shops sold hand-made earrings and wool hats, refrigerator magnets that depicted the city and all its colors, and flowers. Clothing racks held robes, jeans, scarves, and t-shirts; many stores sold slippers and shoes, and Tapestries for peoples’ walls. Restaurants, cafes. and food stores abounded; of course, the latter included big barrels full of olives.

Other golden-orange stairways led into cul-de-sac type streets where people lived in blue houses. Travelers relaxed at outdoor cafes and juice bars, A couple of men wandered the streets with caged parrots and offered to take travelers’ photos with these beautiful birds. I didn’t ask where they got them. We turned corners and found ourselves staring down blue streets at Rif Mountain peaks. One particularly steep staircase took us past a rushing stream and a small waterfall, surrounded by restaurants and cafes. I noticed that traditionally dressed women ate together in these places, although Moroccan customs strongly discouraged them from gathering there. Sunset in Chefchaouen turned the mountains and buildings to unimaginable colors while calls to prayer from three mosques, including one that sits high on a hillside formed an evening chorus

The city is an adventure for all the senses and the imagination. One man on our tour commented that he had been here 14 years ago, and saw far less commercialization and tourist oriented stores. I thought of the Rif Mountains’ poverty, and wondered if Chefchaouen had recently been designed to appeal to international travelers and to boost the region’s economy. How well does it work; how do all these merchants and restaurant owners survive, especially now that the tourist season was winding down? I heard that they all work through the year, I need to look into this.

ONWARD INTO HISTORY!

ZERHOUN

We left Chechaouen after two nights and journeyed from the Rif Mountains to the ancient town of Moulay Idris Zerhoun, which is often called Zerhoun. Our route took us past steep cliffs and oak groves, which again reminded us of Northern California. We arrived at our destination late in the afternoon. Workers from our guest house loaded our luggage on donkeys who carried them up steep streets and staircases. We followed winding streets made from slippery stones to our destination in an alley.

Imizaghen tribes originally lived in this area , along with Jewish people who left Israel after the Romans exerted strong control during the first century AD. Mohammed’s grandson, Moulay Idris Al Akbar came here in the late 8^th century. He had supported pro S’hia rebels in the area that is now Saudi Arabia, and fled after their defeat. His connection to Mohammed allowed him to unite Imizaghen tribes. His tomb is considered a sacred site in Morocco, and many people come here to pray and ask for blessings. One article claimed that Moroccans see five trips to Zerhoun to be the equivalent of one to Mecca. Pilgrims buy rosewater to anoint the tomb, and give children candy as a spiritual gift.

Non- Islamic people were not admitted to Zerhoun until the late twentieth century, and were not able to stay here overnight until 2005. Guest houses like ours now admit travelers, although the town’s fairly remote location makes it somewhat off the beaten path. This is exciting, day-to-day Morocco, and very different from Chefchaoeun. We wandered through a busy market area that sold vegetables, meat, clothes, and other necessities to local people more than to tourists; of course we would have been welcome to buy things. Carob, which Is considered good for digestive systems is a popular commodity here. Donkeys carried baskets full of food and other products up steep stairways.

Men gathered in cafes to watch sports on television and discuss the scores. Women could bring chairs to the busy town square to watch the spectacular sunset behind the hills, But they did not socialize in the restaurants here. Middle’ school age kids played soccer in the square. One kicked a ball my way and I kicked it back, hitting him in the chest; he assured me he was fine. A group of younger children stood in a group, waved, and called “Bye-bye!” over and over as we walked by.

VOLUBILIS

We had a delicious meal and a pleasant night at the guest house. The next morning took us to the Roman ruins at Volubilis. This city thrived from 300BC – 100 AD, when Imizaghen tribes forced them to leave. Romans usually didn’t tax people in places they occupied, but profits from olives and other agricultural products flowed to Rome, along with precious metals and wild animals for the arenas. Olive oil was considered the green gold of the time! A British diplomat sketched these ruins in the 1700s. An earthquake many of the structures, in1755, and settlers used the site as a rock quarry. The French used German prisoners of war to rebuild them during WWI; they based the construction on the British diplomats sketches. Sadly, many of the remaining artifacts wound up in Paris, where they remain.

One remarkable thing is that the streets basically follow an east to west or north to south grid, similar to Romes. This is quite different from the winding alleys we followed in Morocco’s medinas. The settlement included villas for the affluent, and some of the ceramic floors, showing scenes of Bacchean revels and other myths remain. They are quite colorful, and I suspect that they have been restored. Remains of smaller houses show that there were class divisions here. Restored pillars along old roadways show that this was, indeed, a Roman town. We visited the remains of Jupiter’s temple where priests had to wash and purify themselves before sacrificing animals to the Olympian king.

We traveled from this settlement and stopped briefly Meknes, which began as a military settlement in 1062. This town holds the tomb of Sultan Moulay Ismael , who founded the Alawite Dynasty and made Meknes his capitol. He turned it into an impressive city based on Moorish and Spanish models during the late 17^th and early 18^th centuries.

This powerful ruler opposed Portuguese incursions into Morocco. 200,000 soldiers lived in Meknes during his reign. He was also a skilled diplomat who had good relationships with other European powers. He was a close friend of Louis IV of France, and his successor traded olive oil for Italian marble that was used to build the tomb. Moulay Ismael had four main wives, but a harem of 500 others, and 800 children. I have questions about how people figured out how his successor would be chosen, but since the Alawite Dynasty remains in power and Mohammed IV is Moulay Ismael’s descendent, something worked out.

We found ourselves in the metropolis of Fez late in the afternoon. I will share thoughts on this city along with Marrakesh and Tangiers soon, watch this space. And Happy New Year!

***************

REFERENCES AND ADDITIONAL READING

Current social conditions in Morocco

https://arabcenterdc.org/resource/morocco-at-breaking-point-drought-misrule-and-the-rise-of-gen-z-212/

Mohammed V

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-moroccan-sultan-who-protected-his-countrys-jews-during-world-war-ii-180983903/

WWII Refugees in Casablanca

https://longreads.com/2017/11/23/the-real-refugees-of-casablanca

Rif Mountains

https://telquel.ma/2025/06/20/in-the-fight-against-poverty-in-morocco-why-many-are-left-behind_1938632

https://rifcom.org/the-rif/

Chefchaouen

https://www.pathculture.com/travel/why-is-chefchaouen-blue/?sem_campaign=PMAXPCTRAVEL_USA&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=23218818423&gbraid=0AAAABB5xIw1EqDVcg6TEjAb7nI7jzI1Lu&gclid=Cj0KCQiApL7KBhC7ARIsAD2Xq3Al6aFhZWT9SiuxSh3WRU8RhOauOwH6GnP58cih-69InWVue4mE0RgaArRGEALw_wcB

ttps://destinationhistorypod.com/episodes/chefchaouen

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/346767443_Understanding_Chefchaouen_Traditional_knowledge_for_a_sustainable_habitat/fulltext/5fd043aea6fdcc697bef75c8/Understanding-Chefc

Zerhoun

https://www.worldheritagesite.org/tentative/moulay-idriss-zerhoun/

Volubilis

https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/836/

Meknes

https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/793/

Chefchaouen, Morocco’s blue city in the Rif Mountains

WHY DO WE TRAVEL?

I am a great fan of Mark Twain’s statement that travel is an antidote to bigotry. Kate and I have visited a decent range of countries; this includes a lot of Europe, but also parts of Asia, Central and South America, and, most recently, northern Africa and southern Spain. These trips strengthen our feeling that while people from other cultures see the world in a huge range of ways, most of the folks who we’ve met are decent, kind, and basically going about their day-to day lives, and that people are people. I will start out sharing some thoughts about Morocco, which we visited first, and will write about southern Spain (Andalusia) in the future.

Here are some initial observations; more will come. One friend commented before the trip that Kate needed to be careful and avoid harassment from men on the street. She had no problems at all, and as far as I know, either did the other women on our six-day tour. It’s very possible that single women who travels alone will have different experiences; if someone can share information, please do.

While I am a skeptic and a critically thinking agnostic, trips to Morocco and Turkey lead me to think that Islamic cultures are not uniform in all places. One of our guides in Fez is an educated, intellectual, and powerful woman with a wild sense of humor. She also wears a burka that covers part of her face; some people would judge her for this. I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to ask why she follows this custom, and I probably wouldn’t have understood her reasons. The point is that she does not fit the stereotype of a meek Islamic woman. I also wondered what many of the traditionally clad women I saw thought about their issues, especially those who ignored the cultural taboo against women gathering in restaurants and cafes.

Contact with artistic performances and institutions in other countries also deepen one’s perspective. We visited an art museum in Tangier where the amazing main exhibit focused on African countries’ need for energy, particularly electricity from ecological sources. This indicated that many Moroccans work to strengthen their ties with other African countries and their needs, rather than focusing on Europe.

Day to day life also fascinated us. We wandered the dynamic and crowded streets of Casablanca in search of a vegetarian dinner one evening but we found more neighborhood oriented coffee houses than restaurants. We finally discovered a market where people had us sit down at a restaurant. The staff appeared to be part of an extended family. They brought us lentil soup, salads, wonderful Moroccan bread, and a tomato sauce to dip in in. Then they asked what we wanted for a main course; we replied that we were very satisfied with this meal. We also loved our explorations of other towns and cities, including Tangiers, which we visited on our own after the tour ended. I will share thoughts about our wandering in later articles.

POLITICS AND MORE

At the same time, short term travel has its limits. We are both really curious about current political situations in other countries. Our main guide and others who supported him on our tour were Moroccan citizens. They were professional, knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and fun. Still, based on this and other experiences, It appears that tour groups strongly discourage their employees from discussing current events; we got brief and hesitant answers to questions. I’ll share some research-based thoughts on Moroccan politics. I certainly don’t claim to be an expert on Moroccan (or Andalusian) history, culture, or politics, but here are a few points I picked up. I welcome corrections.

Morocco experienced colonialism of course, and it won independence from France during the 1960s. Former colonies struggle with economic issues. An article mentioned that Morocco experiences high unemployment rates among young people, food shortages that resulted from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, and ongoing impacts from the Covid pandemic One guide commented that political leaders see the country as too dependent on the tourist trade; they want to diversify the country’s economy and break into areas such as automobile production. We also heard that coastal Casablanca ships massive amounts of clothes and other goods to many parts of the world.

It isn’t clear how much power workers have around wages and working conditions. We asked another guide if unions are commented. He stated that they are rare, and that workers negotiate their wages directly with employers without the intervention of any third party. I have read that Morocco once had a powerful labor movement and I need to do some research on how this situation changed.

Morocco’s contradictions became very visible during the fall of 2025 when youth led protests around the state of day to day life rocked some cities. The protestors focused on the fact that funds were used to build sports facilities while social services were neglected. Most of the demonstrations were peaceful, but some became violent. 3 people died, many more were injured, and some protestors trashed stores. Almost 24900 people were arrested, and 1475 remained in jail waiting for trial as late as October. They were charged with armed rebellion, insults and violence towards a public official, and incitement to commit felonies. 34 2343 acquitted, but the last report I say said that 400 received sentences raging from 1 to fourteen years. Human rights groups protested the arrests-again I need to do more research

Morocco is an Islamic country, and cultural traditions are powerful. The family code, the moudawana has traditionally been based on conservative Islamic values, but women have organized and made positive changes to their lives. They have a lot of influence in the field of education, and more job opportunities in the past. Changes to the moudawana in 2004 raised the legal age for marriage from fifteen to eighteen, granted women rights to divorce, and allowed women who had children who were younger than 7 the right to claim custody.

Still, the changes didn’t address issues of rape and violence against women. Morocco’s House or Representatives passed a law addressing these issues in 2016 and the House of Councillors passed similar legislation in 2018. Morocco’s political culture has comparatively open to women’s grass roots pressure on specific issues, and women’s groups addressed weakness in these laws, saying they did not go far enough in defining rape and in giving women channels for reporting violence.

Discussions about women’s rights continue both in the government and in communities, and these conversations tend to proceed in largely democratic ways. Moroccans do vote for representative bodies that have power, but Morocco is not really a democracy. The king remains the ultimate authority and decision maker. King Mohammed IV emphasizes stronger rights for women, and current issues include the violence problem, women’s rights to claim custody of children who are older than 7, a wife’s right to reject polygamy in her marriage and more.

One problem is that all parts of society do not agree about these reforms, and there is not a strong way for them to be implemented in all places. Women in cities will have more rights than those in more conservative and traditional rural areas. Also, one of our guides commented that the fact that the king makes ultimate decisions means that these policies could change if Mohmmed VIs successors feel this is a good idea.

THE BITTERSWEET PARTS… BUT VISIT MOROCCO1

Day to day experiences also show that while travel opens our eyes, our knowledge will always be limited. Language is a big issue. Kate tried to learn some basic Arabic, but found it hard. We both speak some French; Many Moroccans speak French because of their colonial past. it must have been a far different dialect; our attempts at talking with them didn’t work. Happily, many people study English in school for at least a year, and we could talk with them.

The real economic differences between regular people and travelers are another reality. The tour took us to cities and towns that appeared to be stable economically. We encountered people who begged for money on the street. We heard that these people were drug addicts, but since many of them were women who wore burkas and other traditional clothes, I questioned this

We felt welcome and safe in Morocco, although we found that some people see western travelers as a source of income; this is also true in other developing world countries we’ve visited. The huge, labyrinth like public markets are amazing, but if you even glance at a seller’s wares, that person will go after your attention like a thunderclap. I often wondered how some of these merchants stayed in business, especially since tourist season wound down for the year. I bought two pairs of hand-made earrings for holiday gifts in one market, and the owner thanked me strongly since evening was coming and I was his first customer that day.

We also found many people who hung out on the streets, watched for baffled looking travelers, and came on hard to them with a friendly, “Where are you going? I will take you there!” We found ourselves feeling rude in a lot of situations since we knew these impromptu guides wanted to be paid. I wondered how many of these people spend their time watching for confused looking travelers, and again, how they all survived.

Travel can be confusing and bittersweet. No country is a paradise to voyagers who want to understand the world as far as they can. If idyllic destinations existed, trips would be unchallenging and ultimately dull. Morocco is as complex as any country Kate and I have visited, and the trip raised intriguing questions that remain unanswered. It is also beautiful, surprising and fascinating – I am sharing photos that I hope make this point. The people we met were welcoming, and excited that we wanted to learn about their country. If you want to go to Morocco – do it! Watch for more articles on Morocco, and on Andalusia. Peace.

STAIRWAYS OF TANGIER

REFERENCES

Family law, women’srights, and the king https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2025/07/morocco-family-law-moudawana-reform-governance?lang=en

Arrest and prosecution of recent protestors

https://www.cnn.com/2025/10/29/world/morocco-charged-over-2400-gen-z-protests-latam-intl

Upper Bidwell Park

A SEASON’SPASSAGE

Autumn’s fleeting. Its sweet sting fades.

Cool breezes shift towards fog and storms.

Kaleidoscope sycamores, willows, oaks free their leaves

when rain comes. They turn the ground yellow, orange, gold,

Then crumble and drift towards brown. Scrub jays, titmice, quail

Chant once more before chilled silence comes.

Autumn drifts away and longs for rest.

It calls, “Show up now!” to Taurus, the night sky’s bull.

Then Orion, and Sirius his dog appear.

“Dance with the pale Pleiades,” autumn tells them all

as it wanders on, and winter’s chilled face

peeks around the corner. November flows.

Wisdom needs to travel. Let’s not cling

as autumn calls snow geese. Their cries fill the wind,

join sandhill cranes’ glockenspiel chants.

Kaleidoscope fungi thrive on crumbling leaves,

Give bears, slugs, and squirrels a cold weather feast.

Coral fungi, Paradise Lake

…………………………….

Allegheny Avenue, my street in Emsworth. My house is the one in the middle.

Emsworth, a borough of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was my often-enchanted hometown, especially on weekends and in the summer when I didn’t have to go to school. The hills that surround this region are part of the Allegheny Plateau, an extension of the higher and more rugged Allegheny Mountains. Maples, beeches, and oaks crowded their slopes, and gave deer, owls, garter snakes, gray squirrels, blue jays, raccoons, and many other critters a great habitat. Us kids (that’s what we called ourselves) escaped into the forest to visit our friends and neighbors whenever we could. We knew one spot where thick vines dangled from trees; we named these the Tarzan Vines, and the boys among us swung from then and tried to yell like Johnny Weissmuller. Girls swung as skillfully as we did and imagined they were tougher Janes than Maureen O’ Sullivan.

We also knew a place where rain and wind had eroded gaps in cliffs formed from sedimentary sandstone. This spot was our sanctuary; we pretended we were a community that lived in small caves here and never had to work or go to school. Lady and Dixie, two horses lived on a nearby ranch. We gathered apples that grew on my friend Mike’s family trees and brought these offerings, along with carrots to these mythic creatures. We dreamed of owning a farm where we could all live together one day, and imagined the horses who’d be our pals.

Emsworth sits on the banks of the Ohio River, and it has its own set of locks; barges carried big piles of coal and other goods through them and continued down the great river towards the Mississippi. My gang and I fantasized getting jobs on the barges; my mother and sister taught me a lot about cooking, so I imagined preparing meals for my friends who’d work on the crew. We also wondered what it would be like to pass through the locks in a rowboat or a Huck Fin type raft, and were very disappointed when grownups told us this was illegal.

We were a ragtag bunch who gathered beneath a streetlight on summer evenings to catch lightning bugs or play hide and seek. Our neighborhood had tons of bushes, trees, and walls that gave us hiding places. Boys and girls hung out together like a huge extended family; some of the girls were better at kickball or Red Rover than I was. It was ok; I was known to not be an athlete, but I was a famous storyteller and creator of fantasy games, like our Tarzan adventures. We sometimes built imaginary towns from Legos, wooden blocks, and Lincoln Logs and acted out real complex stories that I often came up with. I was also the only kid who could really do the Tarzan yell.

I got my tale-telling skill from my dad, who would gather us on our porch during evening thunderstorms to tell us about Thor and Loki’s encounters with the frost giants and how Odysseus tricked the cyclops. Nearby lightning bolts made us jump out of our pants. We sometimes saw distant flashes which we called heat lightning. Mike’s mother finally told us this was lightning several miles from our town, and our idea that summer’s heat had created it was gone. We were disappointed, but happy to be mature enough to understand reality.

Sometimes at night, us kids watched the smokestacks at Neville Island, the chemical plant that sat on an island in the river. They blasted flames and dirty smoke towards the sunset. We might feel innocent and proud – this was our area, and we were manufacturing things for the country. Other times we realized these dragons were poisoning our air. We wanted to don our armor, mount our horses, and ride into battle, but we knew we would lose.

We considered ourselves sweets and soft drink gourmets. Our local pharmacy was an easy walk away. It specialized in penny candy: red, black, and green licorice sticks, candy pills, and small chocolate bars. Jaw Breakers and Sweet Tarts cost a nickel, and we could get cherry cokes at the counter for a dime. These were our version of a fine wine; we found them superior to vanilla or chocolate cokes. All this did wonders for our teeth.

We had many philosophical discussions while we drank. Were those Protestant kids actually nice, or would they beat us up and martyr us for our Catholic faith? How could a round piece of bread really turn into God? Would we have to go to school or work in heaven, or would it be something like our lives in our forest? Could we organize rescue squads to beat up devils and rescue people from hell?

We were working class. My dad, a disabled veteran worked from home as a watch repairman; my mom had irregular hours as a telephone operator. She was the main breadwinner; my friends’ moms were usually housewives, though there was an occasional secretary or nurse. My friends’ dads were steelworkers, carpenters, and plumbers; one drove a bread delivery truck, My family was relatively secure financially, because of my mom’s wages and my dad’s disabled veteran’s benefits, but some of my friends were poor. One family often ate cold cereal for supper.

Our neighborhood sat in the middle of a hill that stretched to meet our beloved forests. We all had red wagons that we pulled to the hilltop and rode three long blocks down to an alley where we turned before hitting the car and streetcar dominated main street. This was also our sledding route in winter, when ice covered our street. My friend Daryl’s house had a huge back yard; this was where we built igloos and snow people in winter and held not too violent snowball fights. Sometimes we buried each other in snow and used watches to see who could free themselves quickly.

All the dads were veterans; the Memorial Day parade was a high point of late spring. My cub scout pack led the procession, and one of us got to carry the flag. A marching band, a group of cheer leaders, and the veterans followed. I sometimes made myself feel like we were in the center of the universe, a perfect place where I could live forever. But this holiday became one of those times when reality started to hit me. My dad was very much a New Deal Democrat, maybe a social democrat, and a critic of cold war foreign policy. He wasn’t welcome at the Veteran of Foreign Wars gathering after the parade. Mike’s dad would take his kids and me to the celebration where we feasted on hot dogs and orange pop, but some of these adults seemed to glare at me. I was lonely, scared, and angry.

The boys thought we’d be honored when we were drafted into the service like some kids’ big brothers, but we sometimes admitted we were scared. The idea of work and marriage troubled all of us; what would happen to our fantasies, our free-ranging lives, our adventures? Yeah, we wanted to feel like childhood was idyllic, but we were often confused. Then middle school grabbed us, and sometimes one of our relatives died. Such is life in Emsworth, and everywhere.

WHISKEYTOWN LAKE AND KLAMATH MOUNTAIN FOOTHILLS

42,000-acre Whiskeytown National Recreation Area lies west of the town of Redding in the northern Sacramento Valley. Whiskeytown Lake, which is a reservoir, sits at 1,201 feet above sea level; the rugged Klamath Mountains’ foothills that surround it sometimes reach 6,000 feet. This area offers great opportunities for hiking, swimming, and kayaking. Drought adapted chapparal plant communities cover the south facing Klamath slopes, which receive their share of direct sunlight. Tough plants such as manzanita, toyon, and chamise find homes here. Douglas firs, black oaks, and ponderosa and sugar pines prefer shaded, moister north facing mountainsides. Osprey soar over the lake while hummingbirds dart through the forest. We’ve yet to meet a resident bear or mountain lion here, but we did startle a gray fox once.

Lassen Volcanic National Park lies in the southern part of the Cascade Range; Mt. Shasta, Mt. Hood, Mt. St Helens, Mt. Ranier, and other volcanic formations stretch north from this point.. The elevation here varies from roughly 5,000 feet above sea level to spectacular Mt. Lassen’s 10,467 foot high peak. A cinder cone and other volcanic features also fill this park, and a beautiful hike into Bumpass Hell reveals bubbling mud ports, boiling pools, and sulfur vents whose smell is inescapable. Quaking aspen, ponderosa pines, red firs and other high-altitude trees form forests where snowshoe hares, black bears, and mountain lions hide. American pikas prefer the high rocky slopes. Night hawks, bald eagles, white headed woodpeckers, and many other birds also grace visitors with their presence.

MOUNT LASSEN AT DUSK

We grew more excited as our time to visit these well-loved places approached; we planned to camp at Whiskeytown on Oct. 1, and to have a warm cabin near Lassen’s Manzanita Lake. We were lucky to have a relatively cool summer in northern California this year – temperatures peaked around 105 degrees Fahrenheit, rather than 112 degrees, which we experienced in 2024. Also, we’re currently enjoying the early cool weather and rain, but scat happens. We heard about predictions of very low temperatures and rain in both parks as Oct. 1 approached.

The other scat that happened was the shutdown of the federal government, which hit on October 1. The bitter arguments over health care subsidies remain unresolved as I write this on Oct. 21. This comes at a time when National Park Service’s 2026 budget is projected to be more than $200 million dollars less than in 2025. Also the Trump administration’s reduction of the federal workforce led to a 24% reduction of the agency’s employees. This includes seasonal employees who spend their summers working in the parks. Some of the parks appeared to remain healthy to visitors during the summer of 2025, but observers noted that biologists and others who monitored the land and species who made It their home were not working. The information they provide is essential if the parks are to remain healthy places.

As the shutdown progressed, the parks’ lack of workers became more visible. Base jumpers held parachutes and hurled themselves from El Capitan’s cliffs in Yosemite National Park with a scant emergency staff to help them if they were injured. Hikers began the difficult trek to the top of rugged Half Dome without permits, with few rangers to rescue them from falls or sudden storms. Squatters make themselves at home on campgrounds; workers who could enforce needed regulations about unsafe and ecologically harmful behavior were few and far between.

Fans and employees of southern California’s Joshua Tree National Park remember the tragic impact the 2018 – 19 shutdown had on this desert treasure. Vandals covered rock formations with graffiti, drove off- road vehicles into fragile areas, and cut down Joshua trees. No one knew how they could protect the park this year.

Some people claim that national parks are unimportant; I’ve heard their positions for ages. They describe the very troubled relationship between early park advocates and Native Americans, which led to some tribes being forced to leave their land. This is true of course, and the National Park Service could work more closely with indigenous communities. But the land and the wild animals and plants that live in the parks are not responsible for this situation, and if these parks are lost, there will be no way to make positive changes. Others state that some early park advocates were elitists who wanted to create vacation spots for the rich. There is some truth to this position as well, but Aldo Leopold and others began to promote the ideas of wildland ecology in the early 20^th century. The National Park Service strives to preserve wild habitat, and to educate people as to why it is essential.

Another point is that a big focus on remote wild places takes attention away from important natural and human habitats in other areas, including in cities. I’ve taught kids and others about local environments and agree that they are essential, but I don’t see why someone can’t love undeveloped places and community ecology. Tons of people from all walks of life love both. Also, many local economies rely on healthy national parks, and people in these places need jobs.

Yosemite Valley might have gone from being a grazing pasture for sheep to who knows what if it hadn’t been protected. Areas that became parks more recently would have been harmed – Redwood National Park might be a well-logged second growth forest, and Point Reyes National Seashore would undoubtedly be a housing development. The parks demand love and care.

Resistance Rangers is a group of one-thousand retired, off-duty, and recently fired rangers. They state that their job duties can include scientific research, accounting, education, fee collection, plumbing, emergency search and rescue work, and much more. They advocate strongly for public lands’ needs and their rights and other workers’ rights during the funding crisis and beyond. Their website recommends that people who come to visit the parks be patient with all workers who will be very stressed since their numbers have been cut. The group also asks visitors to be exceptionally aware of their impact on these beautiful and fragile places. People should bring their own trash bags and carefully clean up after themselves. They should also bring toilet paper, since no one may be available to restock it in bathrooms and outhouses.

As October 1 crept closer, on-line forums and discussions sometimes recommended that people who really love the parks stay away during the shutdown. Some folks said that the staff would be bare bones and stressed, and that crowds would make these peoples’ work difficult. We called Whiskeytown and Lassen several times as the big day approached; employees told us they didn’t know more than we did, and couldn’t offer any advice about the situation. This was frustrating, but I now suspect that the current National Park Service top brass had told workers to say nothing to the public – I need more evidence to verify this. As pro-labor people we strongly considered staying away, but as park lovers we wondered if we could be even more careful than Resistance Rangers asked. Maybe I could write an article about the parks’ conditions under the shutdown.

The weather made up our minds for us. We heard that cold temperatures and rain were more and more likely at Whiskeytown, and cancelled our reservation several days before Oct. 1. We kept the Lassen reservation until the day before we were scheduled to have the cabin, but news of very cold weather, rain, and possible snow convinced us that the trip wasn’t wise. We also heard that our cabin may not have enough heat. A report of people who huddled and shivered on their beds near Manzanita Lake convinced us that we were wise to save both trips for other times.

Another adventure cheered us up. On October 2 , we made our way to Llano Seco, a wildlife preserve south of our town, Chico, Ca. We found ourselves engulfed in the first wave of autumn’s migratory birds. Sandhill cranes and white fronted geese filled the habitat with their presence and their noise. Local red-winged blackbirds and kildeer added their calls to the ruckus. The irony is that although a group of agencies manage this spot, the federal government appears to handle the outhouse – it was locked. Under the circumstances, it seemed funny, but like the whole political situation in the U.S. this is very serious. Remember the parks and their workers – they need you.

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Atlantic article on the national parks’ situation https://www.theatlantic.com/science/2025/09/national-parks-maintenance-research-trump/684379/

Yosemite National Park and the shutdown
https://www.sfgate.com/national-parks/article/yosemite-national-park-shutdown-illegal-activities-21093093.php?utm_campaign=CMS%20Sharing%20Tools%20(Premium)&utm_source=share-by-email&utm_medium=email

Joshua Tree National Park and the shutdown
https://www.sfgate.com/national-parks/article/joshua-tree-national-park-shutdown-confusion-21088711.php?utm_campaign=CMS%20Sharing%20Tools%20(Premium)&utm_source=share-by-email&utm_medium=email

Center for American Progress article on cuts to public lands funding article https://www.theatlantic.com/science/2025/09/national-parks-maintenance-research-trump/684379/

Whiskeytown National Recreation Area https://www.nps.gov/whis/index.htm

Lassen National Park https://www.nps.gov/lavo/index.htm

Resistance Rangers https://www.resistancerangers.org/

1. My life- partner and fellow free-thinking vagabond Kate!

2. Places we’ve visited: Costa Rica, Ireland, Germany, Turkey, Norway, Finland, Nepal, Canada, Mexico, lots of the US, and more. Also, the many hikes we’ve taken in many parts of the world.

3. Flash mobs: surprising expressions of joy by communities of artists. I have saved videos of a number of these events. I recently kept one of an elaborate performance of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” on a Paris street. Dozens of musicians and singers participated; locals and travelers were delighted!

4. Oktoberfest and St. Patrick’s Day. I’m ¾ German, and ¼ Irish, so I cook vegetarian versions of traditional meals in October and in March. These include veggie sauerbraten, and veggie Irish stew – Kate gives all the meals a thumbs up.

5. Pt. Reyes National Seashore.

6. The fact that it’s been raining in the Northern Sacramento Valley, and the increasingly beautiful autumn is growing around here.

7. The band “Wake the Dead.” They do (and I’m not kidding) acoustic Gaelic versions of Grateful Dead songs and more. Check them out.

8. A range of other musicians: John Contrane, Billy Holiday, Louis Armstrong, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen (ok more of a poet than a musician, but fine musicians accompanied him), Dwayne Allman, Janis Joplin, Carlos Santana, and many, many more – yep. The Beatles, the Dead, and Dylan.

9. Real eroticism – or do I even need to say that???

10. Science. Like all honest scientists and science nerds, I know about the atrocities that have been committed in its name. Still – these don’t reflect on the scientific method itself. Besides, there have been many wonderful discoveries, and if science is done correctly, it is a form of discovery and even play. I’m a nerd.

11. Kiddos. I’ve been a science/nature educator and storyteller, and I will work to do more in the future.

12. The sandhill cranes and other migratory birds who are starting to arrive in the Northern Sacramento Valley – there will be many others soon

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13. The many fine bands and musicians we’ve heard here in Chico, Ca. – in spite of the fact that too many of the venues have mediocre acoustics. Go figure.

14. A wide range of writers. I am fully aware that some of the writers I like were total jerks, but I’m in the separate-the-artist-from-their-work-and-criticize but-don’t-cancel school of thought here.

15. Upper Bidwell Park.

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16. Creative silliness and wild senses of humor.

17. Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Vivaldi, etc – yep.

18. My hometown, Pittsburgh, Pa along with its neighborhoods, its creativity, and its range of eclectic characters, including my eclectic family, both the living and the gone.

19. A whole bunch of great movies. We just re-watched Bergman’s “The Seventh Seal’, which is grim, but a real work of art. “Casablanca” is another favorite, and relevant as tons of us need to find some ways to get past cynicism.

20. The night sky, and the fact that Orion will show up soon.

21. I’m a real light drinker, but I do enjoy a good beer or wine on occasion.

22. Mt. Lassen National Park.

I could go on, but I won’t; I’ll just say these are some of my favorite things. (Do you hear the orchestra playing in the background?) Please find your joys, it’s really possible that we share some, and stay strong.