The Dangers Of Guided Tours, And Observations On Africa
I was on the beach when it hit me. We were playing Frisbee, surrounded by dozens of young boys doing back flips in the sand, men chatting quietly amongst each other and women in hijab walking silently. As I peered at the people staring at us, puzzled by our game (or, as I prefer to think, amazed by our skill), it hit me: I’m in Africa.
More specifically, I was in Morocco. Now, three days after returning from the whirlwind weekend trip, I’m still struggling to put meaning to it.
On study abroad to learn new cultures, these three days could have been some of the most meaningful— my first visit to Africa, my first visit to a majority-Arab country, my first time eating in a king’s palace, etc.
They weren’t.
Instead, I spent more time this weekend riding buses than seeing Africa. The activities that could have been valuable were rushed: 30 seconds riding a camel, five minutes seeing where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Mediterranean Sea, seven and a half minutes exploring a cave.
The 4-star hotels we stayed in were nice, but they did little to add to our cultural education. The highlights of the trip, and this should tell you something, were that Frisbee game on the beach and hours of card games in our hotels.
All of these problems I credit to the nature of our trip – a guided tour. It’s difficult to see a country when you are being herded with 52 other people by guides that don’t speak your language so you can fit a structured schedule.
So let me offer this advice: Avoid guided tours. Maybe you’ve had good experiences with them in the past, but, well, you just got lucky that time. Instead, I suggest you go on your own, as some of my friends are doing this weekend in Morocco. It’ll probably be cheaper, too.
It would be unfair, however, to end this post on that note. After all, my weekend wasn’t completely worthless. I returned home with my first soccer jersey, a steal at $11. And yes, I learned a bit about Africa.
Actually, there are dozens of things I could tell you about Africa—from the ancient homes that were all painted blue, supposedly to repel mosquitoes, to the tobacco (or marijuana; we’re not quite sure) one of our guides kept on his hand all day so he could sniff it whenever he wanted.
But I’d rather briefly tell you about something Africa was not: what I thought it would be.
In the United States, our reaction to that continent has been socially programmed. Just hearing the word “Africa” conjures images of poverty, desperation and AIDS. The same feelings exist in Spain, although it lies just nine miles from the continent. My host parents warned me of the trip several times, and demanded all the clothes we took on the trip be washed immediately upon our return.
Expecting to see a destitute area, I instead saw a modern, capitalist, liberal, and above all, likeable country. A late night show in a club featured dancing and acrobatics. Women in hijab readily helped us with directions on the street. And a McDonald’s served as one of group meeting points.
Yes, we did see some of the Africa I expected. Men followed us down the street for blocks at a time. My friend Alex bought a hookah for $22 when the original asking price was $60. We were hounded on the street by vendors trying desperately to sell us bags and bracelets.
You’re probably thinking that I would have seen more of this stereotype if our trip had been less structured. And you’re right.
But even in just three days of mostly bus rides and hotels, I did see some of the real Africa. And I liked it.
So one more piece of advice: Visit Africa.
I am blogging my adventures in Spain on the195.com, a multimedia site by Northwestern students studying abroad. Please follow me there.
