With a Ph.D. in medieval history, Cassandra Hannahs spent most of her academic career at Middlebury College in Vermont, where she was a tenured professor of history. At Middlebury, Cassandra regularly taught courses on Celtic, Viking and Anglo-Norman Studies, as well as more general courses on the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and the history of Christianity. In her research and lectures, Cassandra explores the cultural and political exchanges that have historically linked Ireland, Scotland, England, and Europe. As Study Leader for the Smithsonian since 2000, she enjoys sharing her love and knowledge of the British Isles and Ireland with travelers on land and sea.

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Archaeologists see the past in layers, vertical timelines in square holes.  The oldest stuff is buried deepest, and each successive strata gets closer to the present.  History is not so neatly stacked for us on this tour of “Scotland’s Treasures.”  As we travel north from Glasgow making a loop through the Highlands and then south again to Edinburgh, we ricochet around the centuries.  A discussion about monuments over breakfast veers from Pictish stones (6th-9th centuries AD) to chambered cairns (4000-2000 BC) to memorials that mark the graves of clansmen who died at Culloden (1746 AD).  “Don’t forget Hadrian’s Wall (2nd century AD),” someone adds helpfully from another table, reminding us to define our terms.

Still discussing distinctions between monuments and a military fortifications, we’re soon driving past Inverness to Carrbridge to see the oldest stone bridge in the Highlands (1717).  A delicate arch over the River Dulnain, it was designed for pedestrians and pack horses, clearly too steep and narrow for wagons.  We’re told that local teenagers still use it as a diving platform into the river, a daring and chilly prospect even on this August day.

Figure 1: Packhorse Bridge at Carrbridge.  Photo by Doug Madsen, 2013, reproduced here with permission.

We continue driving to Kincraig to watch the collies at Leault Farm working their sheep.  We’re impressed by the intelligence and intense work ethic of the dogs, each one responding to a specific set of whistled instructions.  An excited seven-month old puppy can’t resist joining his elders, and although his happy, clumsy enthusiasm confuses the flock, it warms our hearts.  After the sheep have been collected by the dogs, some of us take turns shearing them and feeding the lambs.  One member of our group who spins her own wool at home is invited to collect all she wants from the piles of fleece left in the field.

Figure 2: Shearing a sheep at Leault Farm, Kincraig. Photo by Janet Lohl, 2013, reproduced here with permission.

Afterwards, we pass the ruins of an 18th-century military barracks which had been built on the ruins of a 13th-century castle near Ruthven.  Layers upon layers:  it was here that several hundred Jacobites reassembled after the Battle of Culloden (1746 AD) and vowed to keep fighting.  Their resolve collapsed, however, after receiving Bonnie Prince Charlie’s message acknowledging that their cause was lost and urging each man simply to save himself as best he could.  Burning the barracks was probably the last collective action of the Jacobite army.

Figure 3: Chapter House, Dunkeld Cathedral. Photo by Doug Madsen, 2013, reproduced here with permission.

Following lunch in a Victorian resort town, we tour a local whiskey distillery.  Dunkeld Cathedral next deserves a visit, and we stroll around its romantic ruins on the banks of the River Tay where a church had existed since the 6th century.  It was here that Kenneth MacAlpin had Saint Columba’s relics brought from Iona when he combined the lands of Dál Riata and the Picts under one crown, founding the kingdom of Alba (the Gaelic name for Scotland) in the 800’s AD.

Figure 4: Ruins of Dunkeld Cathedral. Photo by Doug Madsen, 2013, reproduced here with permission.

While the great Cathedral of the 13th and 14th centuries was destroyed during the Reformation (1500’s), the chapter house survives and serves today as a museum of local history, providing a timeline of local history from prehistoric to modern times.  It is almost reassuring to see the centuries behaving themselves in this display, lined up properly in chronological order.  But inside the remaining bell tower of the Cathedral they resume their haphazard dance, and we’re exhilarated to find a Viking gravestone (10th-12th centuries), beside a Pictish stone (7th-8th century), under wall paintings from the early 1500’s.

Figure 5:  Viking Gravemarker, in the bell tower of Dunkeld Cathedral.  Photo by Doug Madsen, 2013, reproduced here with permission.

Back on the bus, we flip through the centuries as we sort out what we’ve just seen.  And I suggest to my fellow travelers that what we’re doing is a kind of archaeology in reverse:  instead of extracting artifacts from specific strata and excavating them from a physical site, we are encountering a wide and disordered array of historical data and figuring out where they fit in the framework of centuries.  And as these artifacts of our journey click into place and fill out our own timelines of Scotland’s past, our understanding of this nation and its people deepens and becomes personal in the way that can only happen when we gather the evidence for ourselves.  It is a privilege and a pleasure to discover Scotland this way, with a group that understands implicitly that the real treasures we find here are the insights and memories that we share on the journey.

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To learn more about our Scottish Treasures trip, click here.

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God’s Own Country …an outrageously ambitious tag-line for the southern Indian state of Kerala conjured up by a wizard at an advertising agency for the state’s tourism department. Surprisingly, this epithet really fits this tiny but beautiful state and has resulted in huge numbers of people coming here to discover for themselves the charms of Kerala.  How can one even begin to describe the amazing natural beauty of Kerala? Lush green hills, their slopes covered with verdant forests bearing unique medicinal herbs and plantations of the most aromatic exotic spices – cardamom, cloves, ginger, pepper, nutmeg, mace as well as coffee and cashew nuts.  Kerala boasts of a coastline with an ancient legacy – from the time of the Romans to the Arabs, Portuguese, Dutch, and British, there have been major trading ports located here. Kerala is home to endless rice paddies, tender green at first and then changing to a burnished gold as the rice ripens.  And then of course, Kerala is synonymous with the ‘Backwaters’ – those languid channels of water that run parallel to the Arabian Sea where the brackish sea water and fresh-waters of rivers meet.

Journey Through India, the latest offering by Smithsonian Journeys allows for a fascinating exploration of the many aspects of India and culminates in Kerala, God’s Own Country. After twenty days of being in North and Western India, we flew from Mumbai, the bustling financial capital of India to Kochi, one of the major cities of Kerala.  As the aeroplane flew low over the city, one could see hundreds of coconut trees in every direction. No wonder, this state was named Kerala for kera means coconut. After landing in Kochi, we transferred to a coach which was to take us to the backwaters. Driving through the countryside was fascinating – Kerala is amongst one of the most developed states in India with a high standard of living and this really shows in the grand shopping malls, majestic apartment complexes and fancy homes we passed as we drove along.

Soon, our bus got off the main highway and onto a narrow country road. We stopped near a village surrounded by verdant green rice fields and the ubiquitous coconut palms. A few minutes of walking got us to our astonishing quarters for the next two nights – an impressive rice-boat cruising down the beautiful palm-fringed placid backwaters. We get on-board and are led to a beautiful open to the sky deck where hot tea and snacks await us. Even as we are drinking in all the beauty, it is time to set off. We watch a beautiful sunset and all the Smithsonian travellers get out their cameras to capture the beauty of the backwaters in the glow of the setting sun.

The rice boats that ply on the backwaters are known as Kettuvallams and are made from a local wood called anjali, planks of which are tied together with coconut coir ropes coated with a mix of cashew and fish oil. Once upon a time, these boats were a popular way to transport rice but today, rice is shipped by road and these boats have been converted to host tourists and take them down the waterway offered by the backwaters. Sitting on the deck, watching the stars in the clear sky, our group of travellers relax, the calmness and quietness of the balmy night seeping into our souls. We dock for the night and it is time for a lovely dinner cooked on board by the gracious staff.

Next morning, after breakfast, we set off, the coconut and banana fringe on the edge of the backwaters parting now and then to reveal brightly painted homes. We watch people begin their day at the water’s edge – washing their faces, bathing, washing dishes, hanging up washed clothing, filling up water, chasing birds from their fields, walking to work, praying and meditating. There are groups of neatly dressed school children waiting for their boat ride to school – sure beats a boring school bus any day. On the backwaters, fishermen ply their narrow boats, checking on their nets and transporting their catch. Churches appear along the shore, impressive in their soaring height, offering some competition to the tall coconut palm and betel nut palm. A temple or two announce their presence with religious music.

Soon it is time to dock and go for a village walk, the sight and sounds so different from what we have seen so far on this Journey Through India. The villages are more prosperous here, the money being repatriated by people from Kerala working in the Gulf countries and elsewhere. Houses are painted in bright shades and have beautiful verandahs that offer respite from the bright sun. The local flora is fascinating – the flowers, spice plants, medicinal plants and fruit trees in the home gardens offering a glimpse into the reasons why Kerala has been in the forefront of the spice trade and the centre of the ancient Indian healing tradition of Ayurveda.  Back to the boat and some more cruising along the backwaters till we reach an ancient church – there is a baptism going on and the Smithsonian travellers are delighted to view the proceedings in the beautiful church.

After a splendid lunch of traditional Kerala cuisine on the boat, it is time to soak in the sun on the breezy deck and swap stories of travel. We dock at a boat-building yard,  which makes for a fascinating visit. There are new boats being built and old ones being repaired – we see for ourselves the ropes that tie the boat together and how they are water-proofed with the different oils. The boat-builders are very skilful, not stopping for a minute as we walk from boat to boat, the rhythmic sound of their hammers and saws a nice accompaniment to our tour of the yard. Back to the boat in time to catch  yet another gorgeous sunset.

All the travellers are relaxed and refreshed, going over pictures of the places we have seen so far, making plans for other travels. We tuck into another delicious meal and it is time to go to bed for we travel to Kochi next morning. Kochi with its delicious amalgamation of native Kerala traditions and Arab, Portuguese, Dutch and British influences is a story for another time. For the moment, the backwaters and the rice-boat cast their spell and we enjoy every moment of the leisurely languorous mood here.

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To learn more about our Mystical India tour, click here!

Grant Nel holds a BSc (Hon) degree in Zoology, has worked in the African wild for 2 decades and has also travelled widely internationally. For the past 12 years Grant has lived a few hundred meters from the confluence of the Chobe and Zambezi Rivers (both of which feature prominently in your itinerary). The Victoria Falls and Chobe National Park are virtually his back yard. He is a highly respected professional guide and conservationist in the region. He is a former CEO of The Selinda Reserve, and sits on the boards of two local environmental organizations.

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The Zambezi River is hardly a creek. Indeed it is Africa’s fourth largest river that collects nearly half of south central Africa’s rainfall and deposits it, after a 1700 mile long journey, into the Indian Ocean. Its name translates from the Tonga language as ‘The Great River’ which is an apt and befitting moniker. A Smithsonian African Safari is a modern day exploration of this mighty waterway; our itinerary taking us in the footprints of that most legendary of African Explorers, David Livingstone. However, unlike Dr. Livingstone, we have the luxury of modern transport to cover in two weeks what took him many years of grueling pioneering. I have often wondered what drove Livingstone in his quest to open ‘God’s Highway’ to the interior of Africa, and I think I may have found one of his greatest motivators.

A Smithsonian Safari through Zimbabwe, Botswana and Zambia makes use of just about every modern transport vehicle bar trains. We do game drives in specially adapted 4×4’s, boat cruises on luxury river craft, view the Vic Falls from helicopters, move from one country to another in luxury coaches or private aircraft, and skim along the Zambezi in small power boats in search of the formidable Tiger Fish. We are so habituated to the sound of the internal combustion engine (or as I call it – the infernal combustion engine) that we consider its intrusive racket as normal. Dr. Livingstone, I presume, would not approve.

 When our group of Smithsonian Travelers reached the Royal Zambezi Lodge in Zambia’s remote Lower Zambezi National Park (after a bus ride, ferry crossing, another bus ride, a private charter flight, and a transfer by 4×4) many of us were ready for the tranquility that epitomizes this destination. The lodge offers a wide variety of activities including two of Livingstone’s preferred modes of transport: walking and canoeing.

Simeon, our guide and de facto protector, instructs us with a stern lecture prior to our departure. “Remember” he says, “should your canoe tip over or you fall out, swim as quietly as possible to the shore. Do not splash about as this attracts crocodiles.”. Enough said!

In truth, canoeing is a safe as walking across a busy street – if you obey the traffic lights you are unlikely to get hit by a car. We clamber into our fourteen foot Canadian canoes armed with nothing but our cameras and binoculars, i.e. we are paddleless! This is because each canoe is paddled by a young man from the lodge who knows these waters intimately and is adept at keeping us out of potential trouble.

 Once we set off the serenity of the river takes over almost immediately. The flow of the Zambezi has us in her gentle grasp and we quickly hit our individual mute buttons. Simultaneously our ‘other’ senses start working and we begin to notice so much we have missed before. Every bird chirp is a loud proclamation of territory, the snap of twigs gives an elephant’s position away, the unmistakable smell of a baboon roost, the sucking noise of antelope drinking, the audible snap of a bee-eater hawking an insect on the wing, the blast of air from a surfacing hippo’s nostrils. The only intrusion to this is the dip and splash of our helmsman’s paddle. The afternoon sun is at our backs and bathes the scene before us in a magical light that emphasizes the verdant river banks of giant mahogany and winter-thorn trees. It picks up the glisten of the crocodiles’ scales as they sunbathe, mouths agape to show off their weaponry, and illuminates an elephant in a halo as he throws clouds of dust over himself. It was at about this point that I was struck with a thought. David Livingstone conducted the first ‘European’ canoe safari on the Zambezi River and what we are witnessing is a scene that must have been a daily experience for him. Ageless wild Africa becomes apparent and, at this moment, a thread through time connects us. Generations of bee-eaters have made their nests in the sheer clay banks we drift past; the lineage of elephants that have drunk from these waters is unbroken; the fruits of the giant trees have provided sustenance for countless baboon dynasties, and always the river flows in a never ending continuum.

All too soon we reach the end of the channel and the connection is lost as we are collected by motor boat for the trip back upstream to our comfortable lodge. Livingstone, on his side of the wormhole, is setting up camp on the bank of the river, staring out over a cooking fire at the mighty Zambezi and looking forward to doing it all again tomorrow.

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To learn more about our African Safari tour, click here.

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Mosi-oa-Tunya. The phonetics of the word is romantic all on its own, but the translation is even more so. ‘Smoke that Thunders’! This is the Tonga name given to one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the world and possibly the most visually spectacular experiences any Smithsonian Traveler can ever have. I am of course referring to the mighty Victoria Falls.

Our visit to this tour highlight is delayed by another truly African experience – the border crossing between Zambia and Zimbabwe. Little did we know that the pressing lines, bustling taxis and buses, colorful people, laden bicycles, mingling baboons, rumbling trucks and general melee of a busy border post would contribute so much to our appreciation of Victoria Falls. As time ticked away and each passport was laboriously stamped, so the sun started its journey from zenith to nadir, beginning the play of shadows and light that makes photography in Africa so rewarding.

At last we are through and quickly make our way to the Victoria Falls National Park. It matters not how many times one sees the Zambezi River plummeting 330 feet into the giant scar of the Earth’s crust that is the Batoka Gorge; it is literally breathtaking every time and always exceeds the expectations of the novice visitor. David Livingstone’s 1855 description of ‘…a scene so beautiful, that angels must gaze upon it in their flight.’ still holds true and few could describe the scene more eloquently than that. Our border delay has been an unforeseen blessing. The late afternoon light backlights a 500 foot curtain of white spray whilst rainbows arc across a chasm of black rock that is fringed with the verdant accents of the perpetually wet rainforest.

The resonance of 40,000ft³/sec of water crashing into the gorge is palpable; reverberating beneath our feet, in our ears and against our bodies. Our guide tells us that Devil’s Cataract is so named because the flow of the water above the precipitous plunge has been used for centuries as a form of baptism by the local tribes to wash out and banish evil spirits to the gorge’s depths. The falls extend from this cataract for another mile to the Eastern Cataract and we follow the drenched pathway within the rain forest, emerging every so often onto a lookout point for another view that always seems better than the last. We happen upon bushbuck and vervet monkeys, and get serenaded by birds that are near impossible to see through all the foliage. Suddenly there is a commotion up ahead and a ripple of excitement passes through our group. We step out of the rainforest and are treated to a scene that is primeval Africa – three bull elephants are grazing and walking between the islands just back from the brink of the falls. This is a drama that has surely played out countless times in the 150,000 year history of Mosi-oa-Tunya, but it is a first for me! The ‘diminutive’ figure of the largest land mammal on Earth bestows a sense of scale to Victoria Falls that makes it hard to tear our eyes from the image. For the travelers who set out on this Smithsonian Journey hoping to see this iconic animal in its natural habitat, there can be no better fulfillment of this vision than what is lit before us in the golden afternoon sun. In a matter of minutes the scene dissolves as the elephants wander into the deep forest and reed beds of the islands.

To Zambian border bureaucracy, I say a big ‘Thank You’ for reminding me that impatience in Africa goes against the grain of its Karma. Every delay is just a new, and often wonderful, opportunity to experience something unique and deeply gratifying.

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To learn more about our African Safari tour, click here.

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“There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who have seen the Taj Mahal and love it and those who have not seen the Taj and love it.” Truly this comment by former US President Bill Clinton sums up the magic and mystique of the Taj Mahal, perhaps one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. An ode to love, the deep abiding love of a King for his beloved Queen, the Taj Mahal is one of the most visited monuments in the world.

A symbol of everlasting love, the Taj Mahal figures high on the list of reasons why the travellers choose to come to India on the Smithsonian Journey’s Mystical India trip. And surely, the Taj Mahal never disappoints. If anything, the Taj is even more beautiful than one had ever dreamt of. On every Mystical India Trip, I have watched our guests stand in the presence of this awe-inspiring monument, their eyes widening to take in the wonderful vista of a snowy white building arising almost out of nowhere.

Built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan in the memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal, the Taj Mahal is a mausoleum that took over 22 years to build.  The great Indian poet, writer and artist Rabindranath Tagore, the first Indian and non-European to win the Nobel Prize for Literature described the Taj Mahal as ‘a teardrop’ which ‘glistens spotlessly bright on the cheek of time, forever and ever’.  The Taj Mahal is primarily made of gleaming white marble from Makrana in Rajasthan and inlaid with 28 precious and semi-precious stones. The surrounding mosque, guesthouse and gateway are a great blend of marble and sandstone. Pattern and prayers abound on the exterior walls of the Taj Mahal complex – the pietra dura or inlay work comprises of beautiful flowers, geometric pattern and verses from the holy Koran.

On a recent Mystical India trip, guests could not stop clicking pictures of the Taj Mahal from the moment they had their first glimpse of this beautiful edifice from the grand entrance gateway. As the first rays of the sun fell on the perfect white marble onion domes and the walls inlaid with semi-precious stones, the Taj Mahal seemed to be enveloped in a wonderful golden glow. The Taj Mahal always exceeds expectations, appearing grander and much more magnificent than one has imagined. As they walked closer to the Taj Mahal, it seemed to fill their senses, looming larger than life with each step. Truly, nothing can compete with being at the Taj Mahal in person.

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To learn more about our Mystical India tour, click here!

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During our farewell banquet on Coral Princess II, an interesting question arose: What color best represents this Smithsonian Journey to you? The majority answer was Green. As an ocean fanatic my choice was (and always is) Blue. I had to admit though, if I could add a “blue modifier” to some of the greens, green was indeed the correct choice.

Starting with the carpet in the ANZ waiting room in the Christchurch airport, green predominated. The carpet was modeled after aerial photographs of the surrounding farms on the Canterbury plains. On the flight to Queenstown, the squares of each shade of green to brown reflected the productive agriculture – a real-life version of the carpet.

Agricultural greens were soon replaced by the deep greens of alpine forests topped with a dusting of snow. These endless greens and craggy peaks continued right into our landing between the peaks near Queenstown. The valley greens covered the lower, glacier-scoured valleys that spread between the more sharply cut peaks that had escaped the glacial smoothing. Snow again provided a white contrast on the peaks to complement the ever-present white of sheep grazing in the valleys.

My favorite, blue, finally appeared in lake Wakatipu, the third largest lake in New Zealand, that ends at the Queenstown beach. But even here green had to be included to form the turquoise color of the lake’s waters. Recent runoff of glacial silt from the mountains had greened the lake to a beautiful compromise between blue and green. As the afternoon progressed, the waters seemed to spawn a growing population of the “young and beautifuls.” Twenty-somethings in their backpacks and leisure garb grew to cover the park in front of our Queenstown hotel with their drum music, tightrope walking, acrobatics and sit-and-talk groups. My temptation to join was tempered only by my age and lack of acrobatic skills.

The greens during our outing to Milford Sound took on deeper shades of the temperate rain forest and towering tree ferns. My blues finally ruled as our boat cruised out over the sound with the almost mandatory rains feeding the waterfalls.

In Sydney, I had to venture into the extensive Royal Botanic Gardens where green replaced the sandstone and concrete buildings. Australia Day in Darling Harbor provided a rainbow of people and fireworks to satisfy anyone’s choice of “trip color.”

Finally the Coral Princess II cruising up from Cairns to Lizard Island gave me my blue colors but most were again modified by a green tint of either coastal water or sandy patches on the numerous coral reefs. Weather provided a challenge for our captain to navigate to areas where we could enjoy the promised colors of the Great Barrier Reef. He mastered the increasingly rough waters to Ribbon Reef 9 for a great glass-bottom boat,  snorkel or scuba excursion to the reef face. Green dominance suffered here as the reef fish enjoyed presenting every color of the rainbow in a beautiful example of evolutionary extravagance.

A quick dinner and relaxing evening at the Shangri La Hotel in Cairns gave us a finale to the story of our journey that is certain to turn our friends at home green with envy. I’m ready to go again!

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To learn more about our Australia and New Zealand Tours, click here.

Pepper Trail has traveled around the world in the course of his studies on the ecology, behavior and conservation of birds. After receiving his Ph. D. from Cornell University, Pepper did post-doctoral research at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute and the California Academy of Sciences. An expert photographer and writer, his work has appeared in publications ranging from National Geographic and American Birds to Science, Evolution and Conservation Biology. Pepper has led natural history tours in Africa, Costa Rica, Brazil and the Amazon, and his enthusiasm and sense of humor always convert a few ‘non-birders’ to ‘birder’s every trip. He is the ornithologist for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service National Forensics Laboratory in Ashland, Oregon.

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The very word “Patagonia” conjures up images of untamed wilderness, windswept and remote.  And indeed, that is what our group of intrepid travelers experienced again and again on this journey – climbing to the base of the Martial Glacier in Tierra del Fuego; standing on the cliffs of Cape Horn, looking south toward Antarctica; walking among a herd of wild guanacos beneath the towering spires of Torres del Paine National Park; hiking above treeline on the Osorno Volcano in Chile’s Lake District.  All this adventure was cushioned by our nightly return to luxurious lodgings, where we relived the day’s events over gourmet meals.

In the finest Smithsonian tradition, we learned as we traveled, with lively discussions on topics ranging from how Gondwanaland lives on in Patagonia, to how Darwin’s explorations of the region shaped his theory of evolution, to the extraordinary adaptations of albatross and penguins to their challenging world.

Finally, our experiences in two great South American capitals, Buenos Aires and Santiago, were the perfect prelude and postscript to our Patagonian journey. Whether we were watching a stunning tango show in Buenos Aires or creating our own special red wine blends at the Verramonte Winery outside Santiago, these cities provided a sophisticated and glittering frame to our wilderness adventures.

For all of us, “Patagonia” is no longer terra incognita, the uttermost end of the earth.  It is a place filled with memories, of adventures with an extraordinary group of fellow travelers, and of transcendent landscapes which will remain part of us forever.

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To learn more about our Patagonian Explorer tour, click here.

Bob Szaro grew up fascinated by nature and started bird-watching while in grade school. His love of birds has led to travels and research around the world including many trips to Central and South America. His passion for different cultures, natural history and photography has led to his exploring the variety of landscapes found in Costa Rica starting in 1982 from the cloud forests of Monteverde to the dry forests of Guanacaste. Bob retired in 2008 as Chief Scientist for Biology for the US Geological Survey in Reston, Virginia. Bob received a Dual Bachelors Degree in Wildlife and Fisheries Biology from Texas A&M University (1970), a Masters Degree in Zoology from the University of Florida (1972), and a Doctoral Degree in Ecology from Northern Arizona University (1976). He also completed the Senior Executive Fellows program at Harvard University (1993). Bob currently serves as a consultant to the Smithsonian Institution on biodiversity, climate change, and tiger conservation.

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January 6-17, 2014

Traveling through Costa Rica you learn to expect the unexpected.  Everyday something new and exciting was waiting for us as we drove through the mountainous volcanic region of Costa Rica ending with a few days on a gorgeous beach along the Pacific Coast of Guanacaste.  Our journey was one long treasure hunt for cultural highlights and natural wonders.

One of those cultural highlights was spending time talking with Marvin Rockwell (now 91). He was one of the original Quaker settlers of Monteverde. His story amazed us all with how they came to Costa Rica in 1951 and settled their “Green Mountain.” They were attracted by the beauty of the country and the fact that in 1948 Costa Rica abolished its Army to fund schools.  The journey was not easy as several decided to travel from Fairhope, Alabama by land in a few vehicles to bring some of their belongings.  At that time, the Pan American Highway was more myth than reality.  When they traveled through Nicaragua and reached the Costa Rican border they found no road at all.  It took 3 months to travel the 12 miles to the nearest settlement. The Quakers chose Monteverde in particular because of the high elevation and the sizable area of relatively flat land.

Max Vindas (our tour director) and Marvin Rockwell at the Bat Jungle in Monteverde (Photo by R. Szaro)

The fabled nature reserve they helped start is now a major destination for those seeking to experience the cloud forest. With its many vines, epiphytes, and trees it is one of the natural wonders of Costa Rica. It is also famous for the Resplendent Quetzal and hundreds of other bird species. One of the features of the cloud forest that is hard to miss is, of course, the clouds. Walking through the forest with the mist swirling around us was truly a magical experience. And if that was not enough, we found ourselves at the end of the rainbow.

Don Gerardo Montoya Traditional Mask-maker (Photo by R. Szaro)

Visit to Elementary School (Centro Educativo Cerro Alegre) near La Fortuna (Photo by R. Szaro)

Enjoying the wonders of the cloud forest (Photo by R. Szaro)

Waterfall and lush vegetation in Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve (Photo by R. Szaro)

Resplendent Quetzal at the entrance of the cloud forest reserve (Photo by R. Szaro)

At the end of the rainbow in Monteverde (Photo by R. Szaro).

But many other natural wonders were waiting around every corner.  It is tough to only highlight a few as we saw so many. They included the Three-toed Sloth crossing the road near Arenal National Park, the crocodiles and monkeys along the Tempisque River, and the many butterflies and iguanas we saw everywhere we went.

Three-toed Sloth crossing road near Luna Nueva private rainforest reserve (Photo by R. Szaro)

Green Iguana displaying for a mate (Photo by R. Szaro)

American Crocodile relaxing along the banks of the Tempisque River (Photo by R. Szaro).

White-headed Capuchin drinking along the Tempisque River (Photo by R. Szaro).

But I would be remiss if I did not mention the birds. We saw and heard birds at every stop including toucans, tanagers, trogons, jays and hummingbirds.  In fact, we were even able to have hummingbirds land on our fingers at the hummingbird gallery at Monteverde.

Collared Araçari along Lake Arenal (Photo by R. Szaro)

Yet, best of all, we were able to meet some wonderful people and make many new friends. Enjoying travel with others makes great times even better.  Pura Vida!

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For more information on our Costa Rica’s Natural Treasures, click here!

Kenneth Perkins

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In a country where almost half the population lives in rural areas, it is Morocco’s cities which attract the most attention from international visitors. Fez and Marrakesh are certainly the best known, and the most dramatic in putting forward living images of Moroccan traditional life. No visit to the country would be complete without spending some time in each of them.  But fabulous as they are, neither is my favorite Moroccan urban center. That is Rabat. The modern part of the city was conceived by the first French resident general, Hubert Lyautey, but constructed in consultation with the architect and urban planner Henri Prost.  The intent was to shift the political focus from the traditional capitals of the interior (Fez, Marrakesh, and Meknes) to the Atlantic coast, thus making the center of Moroccan government more accessible to the West and its ideas and less prone to disruption by the tribal forces of the interior. Rabat’s compact downtown, with its early twentieth century building designs, could just as well be anywhere in the south of France or elsewhere in southern Europe. Lyautey and Prost insisted on a distinct separation between this modern city and the old traditional medina, thereby enshrining a pattern apparent in all Moroccan urban centers of the traditional walled city physically separated from the modern European one. The resident general justified his decision on the grounds that it would preserve traditional arts, crafts, and practices, which it did, but at the cost of creating two distinct worlds which later critics interpreted as the imposition of a colonial apartheid.  Similar thinking led the fiercely Roman Catholic Lyaytey to ban Christians from entering mosques – a prohibition later adopted by independent Morocco and honored (with the colossal Hassan II mosque in Casablanca the sole exception) to the present day.

As the national capital, Rabat has always hosted a diverse diplomatic community which has contributed to its cosmopolitan flavor. Today, the currents of globalization have underscored that characteristic.  One example can be seen in the Catholic Cathedral dating to the 1920s. The mix of diplomats from all over the world at a Sunday morning Mass are now joined by large numbers of sub-Saharan African migrants from former French colonies who have come to Morocco in search of employment, or perhaps as a stopping off point in their anticipated journeys to Europe.

Rabat’s link with Europe is by no means new and evidence of it abounds in the city, whose signature landmark, the Tour Hassan, was built by a twelfth century ruler who presided over a domain that included Andalucía and much of North Africa all the way south to the Sahara and beyond. The tower stands guard over the mausoleum of Sultan Mohammed V, widely seen by Moroccans as the father of the independent nation. Every time I visit this site, I am struck by at the number of Moroccans, and especially Moroccan families, who come there. The monarchy enjoys a position of respect in the country similar to the situation in Great Britain and this burial place, not only of Mohammed V, but of his son, Hassan II, who ruled the country from his father’s death in the 1960s until his own in the 1990s, is a vivid reminder of the ongoing prestige (and power) the institution enjoys.

Both the tower and the mausoleum stand on a plateau overlooking the river Bou Regreg, recently the focal point of a tremendous revival. A decade ago, the most direct way to visit Rabat’s sister city of Salé was to be rowed across by one of a fleet of boatman who plied the river. They are gone; their former bailiwick now a marina for pleasure boats. Less than a mile further downstream, the river empties into the Atlantic Ocean near a cluster of sandbars that once served to protect its banks from European naval vessels pursuing the swift and elusive corsair ships of the so-called Salé Rovers whose victims included Daniel Defoe. Hardly any tourist visits Salé these days, but one of the highlights of this trip was a luncheon in a private home in that city as guests of its owners, descendants of the government official who built it as the first structure outside the city walls,  in the 1930s.  Driving back across the river on the bridge carries not only vehicular traffic, but also the carriages of the light railway that now serves Rabat and its suburbs, including Salé  – another recent addition to the cityscape – serves as a reminder of Rabat’s constant evolution, which values heritage, history, and progress in equal measures.

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To learn more about our Splendors of Morocco tour, click here.

Minhazz Majumdar is a writer and curator of Indian art, and co-founder of the Earth & Grass Workshop, an organization promoting arts and crafts as livelihood. Minhazz has served as a development consultant for the government of India and for many Indian NGOs and has extensive experience leading groups through India.

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Coming to India is a sure tryst with colour, verve and vibrancy. And if you come in time for the biggest Hindu festival, Diwali (held in October or November as per the lunar calendar), you are in for a super-sized magnificent celebration that exceeds your imagination.  Diwali or Deepavali is one of India’s most well-known festivals and is celebrated with gaiety and pomp throughout the country. The name Deepavali comprises of two words – deep meaning light and avali referring to a row -   the name thus translates to a row of lights.  A festival of bright lights, fireworks, beautiful floor paintings called rangolis, beautiful new clothes, mouth-watering delicacies and sweets, Diwali is an opportunity to spend wonderful moments with loved ones.

Like many other Indian festivals, Diwali has its roots in ancient times when it must have started off as an important harvest festival. Several myths revolve around Diwali and thus it is a celebration with multiple meanings spread over five days. In North India, Diwali celebrates the return of Lord Rama, the hero of the Indian epic Ramayana who was banished to 14 years of exile by his father King Dashrath to fulfil a wish made to Rama’s step-mother Queen Kaikeyi. Rama, the heir to the throne, is a dutiful son and leaves for the forest accompanied by his wife Sita and younger brother Lakshmana. In the forest, Sita is abducted by the demon-king of Sri Lanka, Ravana and taken away to his island kingdom. Rama, aided by his devotees including Hanuman, the monkey-god, wages a battle with Ravana and brings Sita back. Diwali marks the night Rama comes back to Ayodhya, the capital of his kingdom with Sita and Lakshmana after 14 long years. The people of Ayodhya are joyous and light up the night with row upon row of oil lamps to celebrate his return, a practice followed even today.

Diwali also symbolizes the victory of Lord Krishna over the demon Narakaasura who troubled the gopis ( milk-maids) of Vrindavan. In the south of India, Diwali celebrates the defeat of Bali, a demon king by Lord Vishnu who appeared before him in his avatar as Vamana, the dwarf. The king offered to fulfil any wish and Vamana asked for three paces of land. The moment Bali agreed, Vishnu assumed his magnificent form – with one stride, he covered heaven, with the second, the nether-world. Bali in humility offered his head for the third stride and in doing so, attained immortality. Vishnu made him the king of the underworld and Diwali is the one day Bali is allowed to return to Earth so that his devotion to Lord Vishnu and his good deeds can be celebrated.

The Feminine is not forgotten on Diwali – Goddess Lakshmi, the consort of Lord Vishnu who is the goddess of wealth and prosperity is worshipped in every home. In India, ‘spring cleaning’ happens in autumn before Diwali as homes are renovated, painted and cleaned thoroughly in Goddess Lakshmi’s honour. Beautiful floor patterns called rangolis are made with rice-flour, coloured powders or flowers in different parts of the country. In the eastern Indian state of West Bengal, Diwali brings the worship of Goddess Kali, the fierce deity who represents power.

For our group, what better place to await Diwali than the holy city of Varanasi, one of the most sacred pilgrimage centres for Hindus all over the world. Even though Diwali was the day after the group was leaving for US, all of India was caught up in anticipation of this amazing festival. In fact, from the moment the trip started in New Delhi, Diwali ‘fever’ was in the air. The road to Jama Masjid, the biggest mosque in India was lined with shops selling fireworks and guests were able to see people buying up myriad crackers for Diwali. Colourful banners advertising the major firework brands lined the narrow streets of Chandi Chowk where we went for our rickshaw ride – a spell-binding ride if ever there was one.

En-route to the Dera Village retreat and thereafter to the city of Jaipur, the highway was punctuated by colourful stalls selling brightly hued yarn and tinsel-embellished truck decorations as well as black tassels to remove the evil eye, beautiful scarves, pennants, etc. For a truck driver, the truck is not just a machine – she is a beautiful woman, precious to the truck-driver and deserves to be gifted with ornaments. The stalls were a photographer’s delight – row upon row of intense colour and bling, a quintessential India image.

As our trip progressed, so did the Diwali ‘fever’ accelerate across the cities we visited. In Jaipur, all the markets were being decorated with strings of bright silver and gold tinsel spread out like a canopy overhead. Loops of lights were being festooned from one building to another and colourful fabric gates were being erected on all major roads – the bamboo scaffolding for the gates were like gigantic art installation in themselves. Stalls selling terracotta lamps or diyas  were prominent in all the markets. Stores dealing in electric lights and lamps were not far behind in advertising their wares by stringing up these lamps right out in the street from trees, bamboo poles or street-lights. Clothing stores, showrooms for cars and electric goods, furniture shops – each shop was bedecked as a bride with bright flowers, fabric pennants and fairy lights beckoning customers to come over. Customarily, most Indians invest in new appliances, clothing and vehicles at Diwali and it is a bountiful time for these stores.

Our last stop, Varanasi, was especially brightly lit up for Diwali was just a day away. Our boat-ride was magical that evening with the lights on the ghats. Early in the morning, there was a mile-long queue of devotees waiting to get into the Vishvanath temple as it was the auspicious day of Dhanteras, the day to worship Goddess Lakshmi and Lord Kubera, the deities representing wealth and prosperity. It is also a day to buy metal – precious ones like gold and silver  or less expensive ones such as steel and iron. During our bus ride through the city, we saw utensil store display a wealth of steel vessels, containers, pitchers and lunch-boxes. Another interesting and eye-catching display seen across the city were temporary stalls selling clay images of Lakshmi and Ganesha, ranging from plain terracotta colour to poly-chrome painted ones. Everyone in the group could not resist clicking pictures of these statues. Varanasi was well and truly geared up to celebrate Diwali and so were we!!

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To learn more about our Mystical India tour, click here!

George Losey, Professor Emeritus, University of Hawaii, received his Ph.D. from Scripps Institution of Oceanography working on the behavior and ecology of the fishes of the East Pacific. His research, mostly on coral reef fishes, includes cleaning symbiosis, intraspecific aggression and learning behavior. His most recent work on ultraviolet vision and coloration in reef fishes led him to Australia’s Lizard Island Research Station on two research expeditions.

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I love the contrasts in traveling. I look forward to the contrast of my destination with my home. The destination may be inspiring, challenging or awesomely beautiful, but usually makes the return home very comfortably familiar. Our Natural Wonders of Australia and New Zealand Journey was a stark contrast with nearly every day distinct from the previous day. The Great Barrier Reef challenged some of us to snorkel far out to the coral and giant parrot fish. Others near the beach were suddenly yelling “turtle” as a green sea turtle swam between their legs. Then when I was silently admiring a giant clam, my flippers were brushed aside as a turtle passed just beneath, either oblivious to my presence or possessing a cheeky desire to startle me (successfully!).

Kuranda and the awesome beauty of the rainforest were, for me, almost belittled by the beautiful olive-backed sunbirds nesting in the middle of the food court yard with their nest hanging from a vendor’s display. They busily traveled out and back, feeding their young, despite our violation of their privacy. Then walking down into the lower market it was transformed into a familiar set of commercial activities to a holdout hippie-style community as an echo of the old days in Kuranda.

Travel to Alice Springs and Ayers Rock brought additional contrasts. I was very pleased to have a stop at the local headquarters for the Royal Flying Doctors Service. Years back they had evacuated a very sick me from Mackay to Townsville in a rather nasty storm. Thanks Mates!

On to the outback, that contrasts not only with other places but with itself. The harsh red of the ground clashes almost violently with the stark blue sky. The remarkably complex and ancient culture of the people from Uluru is difficult to rationalize with our own. Many carry on with the traditional lifestyle that dates back many thousands of years. I chose my aboriginal painting purchase to remind me of that contrast AND the wichitee grub that I was challenged to eat during the bush tucker demonstration. (It was actually quite good!)

Then iconic Sydney from Opera House to Bondi Beach that all fit nicely into expectations only to clash that night with dinner in a Bavarian Bier House complete with sausage, Oompah band and nail hammering contest.

Mount Cook with clear skies and a sprinkling of snow forced us to dig a bit deeper into our luggage to stay warm. Our group split into various activities ranging from bush walks to a glacier to scenic cruising on an alpine glacial lake.

One portion of our trip that had little contrast was the quality of our accommodations. They were absolutely top flight with delicious meals, great wines and friendly conversations. Our Tour Guides contrasted in style but not in the depth of their presentations as the bus portions of our tour progressed. All of us left this journey with a contrast in the scope of our knowledge of Australia and New Zealand and an eager desire to visit again.

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Read more about upcoming departures of our Natural Wonders of Australia and New Zealand

tour here.

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When people hear that I’m going to Peru again, they often assume that it is to visit archaeological sites such as Machu Picchu or others in the Cuzco area.  Or perhaps it’s to see some of the spectacular scenery – snowcapped peaks, the rainforest, or Lake Titicaca.  But more and more these days, when asked why I go to Peru, my answer is “for the food.”

In recent years, Peruvian cuisine has become world famous, thanks to the work of such noted chefs as Gaston Acurio and his wife Astrid Gutsche, who have several restaurants in Lima and elsewhere around the world (several of our tour participants have been lucky enough to secure reservations for one of their Lima spots – but this takes much planning well in advance of the tour).  But every one of the hotels that we use on the Smithsonian Journeys tours have great restaurants, so it is possible to sample a wide variety of typical dishes as well as some of the new eclectic fusion plates and the local wines.

One item that surprises many first-time visitors to Peru is cuy (guinea pig) – usually served roasted, and frankly not an everyday dish for most Peruvians .

Photo courtesy of James Kus

Consumption of cuyes is most often associated with special celebrations for Peruvian families, but tourists may have a chance to sample roasted cuy at a restaurant in Cuzco.

A very typical Andean food is the potato – several hundred varieties are grown in mountain regions.  Although baked, boiled, or fried potatoes are part of many meals, a great introduction to the Peruvian potato is a dish called causa – essentially cold mashed yellow potatoes, stuffed with chicken, seafood, or vegetables.  My favorite is a causa stuffed with mariscos (shellfish), but some restaurants, such as the dining room at the Inka Terra hotel, feature three different causas as an entrée.  Another typical entrée is ceviche – often a white fish, shrimp, or shellfish prepared in a strong lime/onion/chili pepper mixture (the citric acid “cooks” the fish).  Usually thought of as a coastal dish, some highland restaurants now serve a ceviche done with local trout.

One of the most typical main courses found on dinner menus is lomo saltado – thin slices of meat stir-fried with french fries and vegetables and served with a side of rice.

Photo courtesy of James Kus

Other dishes that you might find on the menu include lots of varieties of chicken (my own favorite is aji de gallina – shredded chicken in a mild spicy sauce over rice) – or try pollo a la brasa (whole chicken roasted on a spit).

Then there are desserts – a whole range of sweet treats made with local fruits –try lucuma ice cream for something distinctly different.  But my all-time favorite has to be the messy sundae at the Inka Terra restaurant.  That’s the name for it (although on the menu it’s called the “miskey sundae”) – vanilla ice cream, homemade brownies, and a fudge sauce to die for, with the serving glass dipped in the sauce to create the “messy” name.   !

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Read more about upcoming departures of our Legendary Peru tour here.

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The evening sun is casting long shadows across the vast Andalusian plain and from the vantage point, high on the balcony of the Parador in Carmona, it is easy to contemplate the rich history of the Iberian peninsula. It is autumn, yet the air is still warm and redolent with the scent of boxwood. It is also harvest time and row after row of the silvery blue olive trees hang dense with the promise of another season. Gold begins to tinge the leaves in the vineyards also ready for harvest. In the distance, we see thin wisps of smoke as farmers clear brush and prepare their fields for the rainy season still to come.

From this perch, it is easy to imagine the thunderous sounds of horses’ hooves on the plain and the clang of steel as armies of Romans, Visigoths, Arabs, and Christians clashed over centuries to seize the promontories and thus take control of these precious agricultural lands. The very stones we have tread on our walk around the charming town of Carmona evoke Roman soldiers marching across ancient Hispania and merchants haggling over the prices of fruits and vegetables: “No thank you, Tullius! Your oranges are much too bitter, only good for decorating the garden or marinating that suckling pig I intend to roast next week!” Today’s faithful enter churches populated by the subtly carved saints and richly embroidered tapestries of renaissance- and baroque-era bishops, but whose foundations were laid by Visigothic kings or Moorish emirs.
In fact, as we enter through the horseshoe arches of the gates of our parador, once a fortified palace, and walk past the courtyard with its lovely portico of slender marble columns, patterned stucco walls, and bubbling fountains, we cannot help but think of the Moorish kings who built and defended these very walls and spaces for centuries or of King Pedro I, whose love of Islamic ornament guaranteed that mudejar workers would continue to elaborate and expand the palace after it fell into the hands of Christian conquerors.
But now as the sun begins to set, we finish sipping our glass of sherry from the nearby Jerez region; it is time to retire and our minds turn to the gifts of art and culture that this amazing peninsula will reveal to us tomorrow.

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To learn more about our Treasures of Southern Spain and Portugal tour, click here.

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Storks. They were quite a topic during our Fall 2013 Old World Europe tour. Particularly true in Poland, where the stork is an iconic figure. Twenty percent of the world’s population of storks—as many as 50,000—make Poland their summer home. And while storks migrate to Africa for the winter, they return to their massive nests when the weather warms.

Villages are proud of their storks, whose nests are tucked into all kinds of rooftop alcoves and built even atop chimneys. People see themselves sheltered from bad fortune by the presence of those nests. And the nests are astonishing: up to six feet wide, they can weigh over a thousand pounds. They are easy to spot.

And that’s what our Smithsonian Journeys’ guests did in our first days of travel across Poland (Warsaw to Krakow) and on the dazzling ride across the Carpathian Mountains to Budapest. It became a stork-nest spotting competition: “I’m up to four,” cried someone in the front of the bus. “Oh, that’s nothing: my husband has seen six nests so far.”

“Counting storks nests” won’t appear in the promotional material for Smithsonian Journeys, but it’s a perfect example of the delight that characterizes this terrific itinerary across Old World Europe. We spend a generous amount of time in some of Europe’s most significant cities: Vienna and Prague, of course—the two that draw many guests to join this tour; also, Budapest which entices those who’ve never been and many who have longed to return.

The big surprises on the Old World Europe tour, however, are Krakow and Warsaw. Often, we aren’t taught much about these cities, unless we have Polish ancestry.

Recalling the unspeakable destruction of Warsaw in the Second World War, our Smithsonian guests aren’t sure what to expect. They discover a vibrant city filled with the country’s best talent, dedicated to making careers in the new, post-Communist economy. They see a swirl of fashionable young Poles, proud of their ultra-clean business district and excellent public transportation. And they shake their heads in awe, strolling through a resurrected pristine Old Town that war had reduced to ruble.

Krakow is an even bigger surprise. It’s just about the perfect European city.  Small enough so that you can traverse the historic areas in an afternoon, Krakow teams with activity. Museums, cathedrals, towers, arcades, and picturesque alleys remind us that this city was one of few to escape large-scale destruction in Hitler’s time. The miraculous survival of much of the Jewish Quarter allows us a rare chance to imagine how vibrant Jewish life was, before the horrors of genocide tore Europe asunder.

In my experience as Study Leader for this itinerary, I enjoy watching people fall in love with Poland. I hear comments like “I didn’t expect to be so impressed by Warsaw” or  “I can’t wait to come back to Krakow—I had no idea how wonderful it was.”

After all, travel is about discovery and enjoyment. Partly that happens with the impressive architecture and breathtaking scenery. But it happens, too, in the little moments: standing beneath St. Mary’s Tower in Krakow Square as, twenty-four times on the hour, a lone trumpeter serenades Krakow with the plaintive fanfare Hajnal. Or it happens when we breathe the fragrant air of the Łazienki gardens, realizing what a garden paradise Warsaw must have been before its destruction in World War II.

And it definitely happens as we look for stork nests! Ancient legend comes alive in the brave and loyal stork. Art, too, abounds in storks, as in this beloved painting by Józef Chełmoński entitled Storks (Bociany).

The Old World Europe tour is filled with generous blocks of free time in every city. So when you join us, walk just a few blocks from our hotel in Warsaw to the National Gallery. In its spacious galleries, expect to be captivated by storks and an array of dazzling images as you begin your journey into Eastern Europe’s beguiling history and tradition.

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To learn more about our Old World Europe tour, click here.

Dr. Moshe Gershovich is Professor of Modern Middle Eastern History at the University of Nebraska-Omaha (UNO). A native of Israel, he earned a B.A. at Tel Aviv University and a Ph.D. in history and Middle Eastern studies at Harvard University. He taught for three years at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology before traveling to Morocco in 1998 as a Fulbright Senior Scholar to

research the oral history of Moroccan veterans of the French Army. Moshe resided in Morocco between 1998 and 2000 during which time he also taught at Al-Akhawayn University in Ifrane. He is the author of French Military Rule in Morocco: Colonialism and Its Consequences (Cass, 2000) as well as numerous

scholarly and popular articles related to the modern history and politics of

Morocco and French colonialism. In recent years, Moshe has taken groups of UNO students to Morocco where they were immersed in the study of Arabic and North African history and culture. He is fluent in Hebrew, French, and Moroccan Arabic.

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A Cemetery and a Synagogue, an Orphanage and a Museum

Morocco is a Muslim country as anyone visiting it today can notice right away.  Anywhere you turn you’ll see mosques, madrasas, and other signs of Islamic civilization.  Virtually 100% of the population consists of Sunni Muslims.  Whether or not they observe their faith to the fullest extent notwithstanding, the religious homogeneity of the Moroccan nation is evident.  This, however, was not always the case.  Up to two generations ago, a small yet significant portion of the population exercised the Jewish faith while sharing a common heritage with their Muslim compatriots.  Numbering more than a quarter of a million souls at the time of Morocco’s independence in 1956 (out of a population of about 10 million), the Jewish community today has shrunk to about 5,000 members.  For all intents and purpose, Jewish presence in Morocco has vanished.  The reasons for the mass and rather sudden exodus of Jews from Morocco lie beyond the scope of this piece, as does the long and rich history of Judaism there.  What concerns us here is the manner in which the memory of that history is being preserved in a variety of ways, as our tour has discovered at three distinct locations:  Fez, Sefrou, and Casablanca.

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

The origins of Judaism in the extreme northwestern corner of Africa are unclear, but that presence may be traced back to ancient times, predating by at least half a millennium the arrival of Islam to that part of the world.  Jews arriving from the Eastern Mediterranean integrated among the Imazighren (Berber) tribes, some of whom may have converted to Judaism, before switching to Islam.  Andalusian Jews fleeing from the Christian Reconquista found refuge in Morocco and helped build its unique identity in later centuries.  Benefiting from their protected status as “People of the Book,” Moroccan Jews added skills and resourcefulness to the Sharifian Sultanate but remained a distinct minority group.  With the growth of European influence during the 19^th century, many among them embraced the economic, cultural, and educational opportunities it provided.  By the time the French Protectorate was established in 1912, Moroccan Jews had already began to assimilate into French culture, although they remained subjects of the Sultan, whose symbolic protection helped them traverse the painful era of the pro-Nazi Vichy regime during World War II.  With the advent of Morocco’s struggle for independence, however, Jews felt by and large left out, suspected of affiliation with the colonial order and with the newly formed State of Israel.  Presented with the opportunity to migrate, amid uncertain future in the independent Morocco, many Jews voted with their feet and left during the 1950s and early 1960s.  Another wave of migration came after the 1967 Six-Day War, which had intensified tension between Jews and Arabs throughout the Middle East.

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

A Cemetery and a Synagogue in the Mellah of Fez

On the afternoon of its first day in Fez, our group visited the old Mellah (Jewish neighborhood). Even though Rabat is Morocco’s political capital, and Casablanca its economic hub, Fez may be said to represent the soul of the nation.  The imperial capital of the north, built more than twelve centuries ago, has served as the seat of power and religion for most of Moroccan history.  The Mellah itself, originally created during the 14^th Century, as part of the Marinid construction of “New Fez,” was intentionally situated next to the royal palace, as if to signify the Sultan’s protection of “his” Jews.  The elegant balconies facing the main street of the Mellah, a tribute to the Andalusian architecture most original inhabitants of the Mellah had left behind, stand in stark contradiction to the austere and simple outward look of the old Muslim Medina.  In that section, which we had visited that same morning, a home’s beauty can only be appreciated once you pass beyond the simple, non-distinct façade.

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

Jews have resided in Fez since its creation twelve centuries ago and their history there includes periods of great scholarly tradition and economic prosperity, where others suffered poverty and persecutions.  The city’s most famous Jewish inhabitant was philosopher Moses ben Maimon, “Maimonides,” who escaped from Cordoba, Spain during the Almohade terror of 1165, and lived in Fez for five years, before moving to Egypt.  In modern times the local community underwent turmoil and changes.  In April 1912, a military uprising against the imposition of the French Protectorate resulted in a three-day attack on the Mellah and the killing of at least 45 of its inhabitants.  A few years later, Jews began to leave the Mellah and move to the newly built European city.  Towards the end of the Protectorate, the Jewish population reached 22,000.  Today, however, only about 60 Jews continue to live there and none reside in the Mellah.

One of these Jews, a caretaker, Monsieur Gabai, met us at the edge of the old cemetery and led us through it.  The cemetery dates back to the early 17^th century and is still in use today as can be seen by recent tombstones of community members who have deceased in recent years.  All tombstones are white and most are made of simple stone.  Many tombs are unmarked, bearing victims of the Black Plague, who had to be buried hurriedly.   While dotted with the graves of notable religious scholars and communal leaders, the cemetery’s most famous figure was 17 year-old Sol Hachiel, AKA Lalla Suleika.  A native of Tangiers, this beautiful maiden had been falsely accused of conversion to Islam and then reneging on her conversion.  When she refused to abandon her Jewish faith, she was condemned to death and beheaded in 1834.  Her martyrdom propelled her to the level of popular saint, revered by both Jews and Muslims.

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

From the cemetery we proceeded to visit the Ibn Denan synagogue.  This 17^th century house of worship, one of the oldest and most important still in existence in North Africa, had been built by a prominent Moroccan Jewish family and renovated to its present form in the late 19^th century.  It is a rare relic of a period in which the Jewish community of Fez had thrived.  Its importance comes from the fact that it contains the only complete set of Moroccan synagogue fittings in existence.  After suffering from many years of neglect and disrepair, due to the shrinking size of the Jewish community, the synagogue eventually became included in the World Monuments Watch’s list of 100 endangered monuments in need of preservation.  Its renovation involved contributions from various private and public bodies including the Moroccan government and descendants of the Ibn Danan family.  Restoration work began in the late 1980s and completed a decade later with a May 1999 dedication ceremony, patronized by the Moroccan government.

Standing inside the beautifully restored interior, facing the ornate Aron Kodesh (Holy Ark) with my fellow travelers sitting on both sides of the Bimah (raised platform) was the perfect setting for me to deliver an impromptu lecture about the long history of Moroccan Jewry and its relations with the government of the Sultan.  I also talked about the reasons for the departure of most Moroccan Jews and the prospects for the future of that community.

An Orphanage in Sefrou

The following morning we left Fez and drove east to Bahlil, a charming Arab-speaking village in the midst of a Berber-speaking region, where we were treated to a tea ceremony in a cave-dwelling.  From there we continued to Sefrou, the region’s administrative center.  Located at the foot of the Middle Atlas Mountains, 28 km (18 miles) from Fez, this town of some 80,000 inhabitants has played an important role as a trading center on the route of caravans from the southeastern oasis of Tafilalt, birthplace of Morocco’s ruling dynasty.  Nowadays, the local economy is based mostly on agriculture and the town is known for its annual cherry festival in the month of June.

Sefrou used to be a cultural crossroads where Jews and Muslims, Berbers and Arabs peacefully coexisted for centuries.  This cultural mosaic led numerous American anthropologists, notably Clifford Geertz, to choose Sefrou for their field research.  For much of its history, Sefrou had been one of a handful Moroccan villages with a high percentage of Jewish population.  By the time of Moroccan independence in 1956, Jews still composed a third of Sefrou’s population, about 5,000 living in the small Mellah.  Only a few remain there since the mass exodus of Morocco’s Jews in the 1960s and early 1970s.  The Jewish Mellah is now inhabited by Muslims and the property left behind is taken care of by them.

Our group visited one of these places, an orphanage named Em Habanim (“Mother of the Boys”), situated just outside the Mellah in an enclosed compound.  The orphanage had been part of the Em habanim network of Jewish Moroccan schools, established in 1912 by a group of Jewish women as a counterpart to the Francophone system of the Alliance Israélite Universelle.  The first school and orphanage was established in Fez and the Sefrou school was inaugurated in 1917.  It provided elementary education to Jewish children for five decades.  Today, the place is deserted for the most part, except for groups like ours who visit it occasionally.

Our tour focused on the orphanage’s synagogue, which is well preserved and contains a small library of Hebrew prayer books (Sidurim) as well as some books in French.  The pastel colored walls and decorations hint at the identity of its original residents.  A short clip from a 1997 documentary film by director David Assulin, called  Haaretz Hamuvtahat (“The Promised Land”) contains original footing, presumably from the 1950s, depicting Jewish boys eating and praying at the school.  The clip can be found on YouTube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SQiNNH6WOc.

A Museum in Casablanca

On the last day of our tour we reached Morocco’s largest city, Casablanca.  As we approached the city from its southern side, having arrived from Marrakech, we stopped at the plush suburb of Oasis to visit the Museum of Moroccan Judaism.  This is the only museum of its kind in any Arab-speaking country and one of only two museums in any Muslim country (the other is located in Istanbul, Turkey).   It is also the only museum in the entire city of Casablanca, the fifth largest city in Africa.

Situated behind the thick white walls of a lovely villa, which once served, just as in Sefrou, as an orphanage. The museum is surrounded by a beautiful garden, which blends well into this plush neighborhood.  There are no signs to guide the visitors to its location and only when you get there can you notice a generic plaque stating it’s a “museum” in Arabic and French.  A second sign above the inner entrance provides more proper introduction in four languages, including English and Hebrew.  Another plaque, in French only, is dedicated to the man who founded the museum and the foundation for the preservationof Moroccan Jewish culture, Simon Levy.

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

Widely regarded as Morocco’s foremost authority on Moroccan Jewish culture, Levy was born in Fez in 1934 and died in Rabat 77 years later. He was a professor in the Spanish Department of Mohamed V University in Rabat since 1971. A devoted activist since his youth to the cause of Moroccan independence and human rights, Simon Levy had been imprisoned numerous times during the late colonial period and again during the reign of King Hassan II.  He was a leading figure and active member of Morocco’s Communist party, in which he held key positions for more than 30 years. He was also the Secretary General of the “Foundation of Judeo-Moroccan Cultural Heritage” and the Founding Director of the Museum in Casablanca.

The museum contains a permanent display of artifacts related to the rich history and culture of Moroccan Jewry.  These range from large items, such as the restored bimah from a synagogue in Tetouan (Northern Morocco) to small dolls depicting Jewish brides in their wedding dresses.  Full-size garments are also displayed, along with stunning jewelry pieces worn by brides.  Various religious artifacts such as mezuzahs (doorposts), Hanukiah menoras, Kiddush cups, etc. can also be found in the exhibit halls.  Other than the permanent collection, the museum also organizes occasional exhibits on related topics.

Conclusion:  Judaism as a Component of Moroccan Identity

As we were about to exit the Jewish Museum, we stopped in front of a plaque in Arabic and French, containing the preamble to the newly revised Moroccan Constitution of 2011, which reads as follows:

“A sovereign Muslim State, attached to its national unity and to its territorial integrity, the Kingdom of Morocco intends to preserve, in its plentitude and its diversity, its one and indivisible national identity. Its unity, is forged by the convergence of its Arab-Islamist, Berber [amazighe] and Saharan- components, nourished and enriched by its African, Andalusian, Hebraic and Mediterranean influences.”

Photo courtesy of Moshe Gershovich

The official inclusion of both Berber and Jewish (“Hebraic”) identities as components of Morocco’s national identity is a very meaningful act, which recognizes the contribution of both Berbers and Jews to Morocco’s history and culture.  Thus, even though very few Jews continue to reside in Morocco today, those living in other countries (notably Israel, but also in Europe and North America) are still regarded as belonging to the Moroccan nation and are encouraged to visit it and invest in its future.  While the physical presence of Jews in Morocco may have nearly ended, their impact on its character continues to be felt nearly everywhere you go.

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To learn more about our Splendors in Morocco tour click here.