Trippy Tiles

Yesterday our driver, Zamir, took us to Volubilis, the site of Roman ruins dating back to the third century BC.  Built on a hill looking out onto what was once probably a much more fertile valley, the settlement appears to have been as large as Pompeii.  It has the stamp of empire with the columns and the arches and the basins that once were bath houses.  In contrast to Pompeii, the aren’t that many fountains that have been excavated.  Instead, there’s a large circular fish pond surrounded by pillars and numerous stone bath tubs that could seat an entire family.  

What was most remarkable about the site were the mosaic floors of some of the temples…

…and of some of the rooms where I’d like to imagine the storytellers hung out…

…or couples met with amorous designs.

By the ninth century the Romans were gone and it became the seat of the Idriss empire which was moved in the eleventh century five miles away to Moulay Idriss Zerhoun where the first ruler of the Idriss empire, Idriss I is socked away in a tomb.  Zamir motored us to Moulay Idriss.  

Ella asked me what we were doing there, and I blurted out, “The tomb!” I hadn’t the faintest idea of what I was talking about, but I thought it might be a cross between Lenin under glass, or King Tut’s catafalque.  Little did I suspect that it took a caloric burn to be honored with a far off glimpse of its ceramic green tiled roof.  Ella will relate how were barnacled by an improvisatory tour guide, but I can only say it was like floating by on an Amsterdam canal trying to look up and spot the window to Ann Frank’s attic.

Done with this underwhelming experience, Zamir took us to Meknes.  It’s a city a little smaller than Albuquerque, an agricultural hub noted for its wine that was inevitable result of the French expropriating land during their occupation.  

Sultan Moulay Is’mail made Meknes the capital of Morocco in the early eighteenth century, so it has the minor glory of former power.  It’s like visiting Detroit and wanting to see what a Cadillac plant was like in the Fifties.  Well, maybe less industrial, but the power vibe is still there inside the fortress walls.  There’s the requisite famous gate, but most mind blowing was the mausoleum of Moulay Is’mail.  You can be drug free and still get stoned experiencing the the blend, from wall to floor, of the intricate hallucinogenic tile work.