New Year’s in Essaouira

At the end of December 2010, I received a visit from Margie and Jacy, friends who’d served in Peace Corps Benin with me. We hadn’t seen each other since 2007, when we were all still in Africa. Now both of them are in law school and had come to Morocco for their winter break. After they braved the blizzards on the East Coast and waited out the painful 48 hours of chaotic delays at JFK, we reunited with a seemingly endless stream of reminiscent stories from Benin plus three years of catching up. After a day in my village, we headed for Essaouira to spend New Years with a group of Volunteers. About a dozen of us PCVs and our holiday visitors rented out a Riad in the heart of the medina for a couple nights.

On the 31^st, Margie, Jacy, and I walked across the beach to the horses and kite surfers with the aim to go riding. I go there each time I visit this city, and I’ve dragged my friend Martin out horseback riding a couple times. I’ve learned a bit how the horse guides operate and managed to track down the one named Grek to get a good deal. I made sure to tell him we all knew how to ride and wanted good horses. Grek gave me his horse Silver, a beautiful grey. Jacy got Djambo, a young chestnut, and Margie got a big bay that looked an awful lot like Martin’s last horse, who the guides had affectionately nicknamed “son of a whore” for his apparent lack of spark. As we got moving though, it became clear he was a much different steed. He was spunky and rather jittery, and we later realized he didn’t have a traditional bridle on. He wore a glorified halter because as Grek explained, the horse otherwise tends to grab the bit in his mouth and run away.

We had a pleasant ride out, crossing Igrounzar River towards Diabat village and meandering through dune trails and the old palace ruins Jimi Hendrix is said to have visited in the late 60s. On the way back, the four stallions were rearing to run. As soon as we stepped onto the beach, Margie’s horse took off at a full gallop as she leaned back on the reins in a vain effort to stop him. This is when the non-bridle detail became especially noteworthy. It’s not nearly as effective at stopping a horse. Once we caught up to her, Grek had her get down and decided to give him his horse’s bridle. Margie understandably argued that if the bay horse doesn’t like the bridle, then she shouldn’t ride him with it on because he may lash out. Grek demonstrated that there was nothing to worry about but she wouldn’t have it, so he agreed to ride the bay while she took his more docile horse.

Once that was settled, Jacy and I galloped our even-tempered stallions side-by-side down the beach, feeling like we were in some sort of Ralph Lauren or Virginia Slims commercial. We eventually turned around to see Margie far behind, fighting to get her “calmer” horse to move. We watched her silhouette in the distance, arms flailing and legs kicking as the horse plodded along passively. Grek laughed and told her “I told you so” as they switched horses again. This time we all got a good couple gallops in before returning to the horse camp. It was smooth and exhilarating, a worthwhile 100dh!

That evening, after an afternoon of wandering the enchanting blue and white alleys of the medina and chomping on 5dh fresh sardine sandwiches, everyone gathered on the ramparts to watch the sun set over the Atlantic; an appropriate way to bid farewell to 2010. We returned to the Riad to drink wine amidst good company and humorous storytelling. Champagne bottles popped and a stream of silly toasts rang in the New Year. It was a memorable night. I rushed to bed after getting a warning bout of heartburn at about 1:30. My head was spinning so much though that I instead pulled on my running shoes, grabbed the house key, and dashed out into the cold deserted streets without a word to anyone. I ran a long loop around the medina, navigating somewhat drunkenly through the alleys I’ve thankfully grown to know well enough. I found a couple shops still open and bought a bag of chips before hurrying back to the Riad. The run and the junk food rid me of the spins, though it wasn’t my finest moment. I fell fast asleep. Thus began 2011.