The Birthday Party

Turning 50 seemed like a big deal, something to celebrate, but not just a party. It required an event. Something that yelled out – this will be different. Something that said I am not going quietly. For me, the 50th was a celebration of life past, present and future. The gala event became a two week trip to Morocco including a week long trek through the High Atlas Mountains. As I began to make arrangements, reactions ranged from my being crazy to envy to jealousy. I could not be swayed.

For two weeks, Morocco was my birthday party, a happening with 12 other trekkers, a guide, a variety of Arab and Berber muleteers, and 8 mules. It was an exotic sensory experience. Walking through the narrow passageways of Old Fez, the aromas of the foods, the spices, and the tobacco comingle so strongly that you can actually taste it, your eyes burn with the flavours. Mules with heavily burdened packs take up most of the corridor, just barely missing you as you try to duck out of the way. Souks are around each corner, every one filled with a speciality. The coolness of the brass, the smell of the leather and the large vats of dyes filled with different colours. The sounds of the daily work, the mules and the noise of the sellers reaching out for customers intertwine with the sound of the praying from the mosques.

Morocco is filled with extremes that must be felt as well as seen. The Medina of Marrakech filled with street vendors including snake charmers, souks and opulent mansions. The intense heat of the summer day that leaves you feeling wilted. Your fingers brush against the variety of colours and materials in buildings and stroke the rugs that decorate the furniture and the floor. It is a place to not only see but to experience.

All of this would have been quite a party of its own, but add the seven day hiking experience through the mountains and Berber villages, and it became a celebration like no other. In the first three days of unending upward slopes to reach our top climb of around 12000 feet, my soon to be fifty year old muscles felt every step, aching for a hot soak and massage. Neither of which was part of the adventure package.

In the night, I experienced real darkness for the first time of my life. The noise of darkness amazed me. Sound was all around me, from the wind and the animals in the night. Every smell was more intense, and the changes in the weather bombarded my senses. Each evening was a unique experience: from the intensity of a sand storm against your skin; the coldness of a desert evening in the mountains; to the intense heat in the valley.

Walking through Berber villages that could only be reached by foot or mule provided another day of experiences. Only the splash of colours in the clothes contrasted to the barren environment. The women were covered from head to foot in layers carrying heavy packs on their backs. All of this intensified the feel of the hot air on my skin and the exhaustion I felt in every muscle.

The last day in the mountains was my actual birthday, and I had a party like no other. After a special dinner prepared for the celebration with the bottles of wine coming out of the mule packs, the sounds of our muleteers broke through the night singing happy birthday in Berber. It is a birthday event I will never forget.