Anyone who knows me knows that I live under a perpetual pop culture rock. I never remember the names of my favorite songs, artists, or movies, and I am overwhelmingly frustrating to have a conversation with regarding these topics. Even since being here, I have talked to Moroccans about American music and movies, and after they have made it obvious they know way more than I do, they ask if I am even from America (I kid you not, this has happened twice). This character flaw of mine is what makes it so shocking that I have been attending more concerts here than I do in the states. In the past year in the U.S., I have been to three concerts. In the past 3 weeks that I have been in Morocco, I have been to three concerts. Why am I expanding my musical/cultural exposure? The answer is Mawazine.
Every year in Rabat, there is a huge music festival called Mawazine. It lasts eight days and has several different stages. Each stage is assigned a “region” of music- international, Moroccan, African, and Arab. It is a huge deal, with the concerts aired on the local channels and huge attendance numbers. Additionally, all of the concerts are free!
The first concert I saw was Bambino, an African artist at the stage close to my house. I went with my host sister, who was not at all impressed with the artist. We ended up leaving early and going home to get dinner.
The next two concerts were much more exciting, I promise, so keep reading. On Wednesday night, Hardwell played at the further away, international stage. Before even going into the actual concert, I have to comment on the difference of concert attendees in Morocco compared to America. For a Hardwell concert in the States, you would assume that 99% of the attendees are heavily intoxicated, on drugs, or both. However, in Morocco, the crowd just seemed genuinely happy to be there and have a good, sober time. Interesting yet refreshing.
Every year in Rabat, there is a huge music festival called Mawazine. It lasts eight days and has several different stages. Each stage is assigned a “region” of music- international, Moroccan, African, and Arab. It is a huge deal, with the concerts aired on the local channels and huge attendance numbers. Additionally, all of the concerts are free!
The first concert I saw was Bambino, an African artist at the stage close to my house. I went with my host sister, who was not at all impressed with the artist. We ended up leaving early and going home to get dinner.
The next two concerts were much more exciting, I promise, so keep reading. On Wednesday night, Hardwell played at the further away, international stage. Before even going into the actual concert, I have to comment on the difference of concert attendees in Morocco compared to America. For a Hardwell concert in the States, you would assume that 99% of the attendees are heavily intoxicated, on drugs, or both. However, in Morocco, the crowd just seemed genuinely happy to be there and have a good, sober time. Interesting yet refreshing.
Hardwell was great. I had no idea what to expect, but I had such a fun time. There were six Americans with one Moroccan, so we stood out as being very American in the sea of Moroccan teens. Since Hardwell is a DJ, he mixed in a lot of popular American songs that we recognized and could sing along to (further drawing attention to us because we knew the words to all of the songs in English). The guys around us were intrigued by us American girls, and we were asked about a million and a half times if we had Facebook. I lied that I did not have an account because I wanted to avoid the pokes, likes on really old photos that I don’t want to see again, and endless messages. Facebook messenger is a major form of communication here, and they are relentless if they manage to find you on Facebook. However, after being tagged in photos with the same group of people, many of the lovely men managed to add me, and my Facebook friend request list is swiftly growing with names I cannot pronounce.
Finally, on Friday night, we saw Pitbull. I was most excited for this concert because I actually know some of his songs (shocking right?). We got there in time to be about in the very middle of the crowd, and once he started performing, we were working our way slowly closer to the front. Suddenly, we saw many people running out of the crowd and leaving in front of us, so instead of being logical, we were excited to get to move closer!
Then it hit me. I had no idea what I was inhaling, but it burned my nose and eyes, and made my lungs feel as though they were drying out and shriveling up. The host brother of one of the girls grabbed arm and we tried to run with the rest of the crowd. But everyone was shoving through the crowd and it was almost impossible to move. I still did not really understand what was going on, but I guess my natural instinct told me to run. It ends up a fight had broken out right in front of us, and to break up the fight, the police (or someone, who really actually knows) sprayed massive amounts of pepper spray. If you’ve never been pepper sprayed, consider yourself lucky. It is so very uncomfortable, and the burn did not go away until late into the next day. We stayed for the rest of concert, but were all separated. I ended up with one of the other Americans, and the two Moroccan guys who happened to go with us. It was a random group. After the concert, we all met up and taking the sketchiest “taxi” (random van that just shoved us all into the back) to Pizza Zoom for strawberry juice and gelato. Overall, Pitbull still performed a killer concert, almost worth the pepper spraying.
Finally, on Friday night, we saw Pitbull. I was most excited for this concert because I actually know some of his songs (shocking right?). We got there in time to be about in the very middle of the crowd, and once he started performing, we were working our way slowly closer to the front. Suddenly, we saw many people running out of the crowd and leaving in front of us, so instead of being logical, we were excited to get to move closer!
Then it hit me. I had no idea what I was inhaling, but it burned my nose and eyes, and made my lungs feel as though they were drying out and shriveling up. The host brother of one of the girls grabbed arm and we tried to run with the rest of the crowd. But everyone was shoving through the crowd and it was almost impossible to move. I still did not really understand what was going on, but I guess my natural instinct told me to run. It ends up a fight had broken out right in front of us, and to break up the fight, the police (or someone, who really actually knows) sprayed massive amounts of pepper spray. If you’ve never been pepper sprayed, consider yourself lucky. It is so very uncomfortable, and the burn did not go away until late into the next day. We stayed for the rest of concert, but were all separated. I ended up with one of the other Americans, and the two Moroccan guys who happened to go with us. It was a random group. After the concert, we all met up and taking the sketchiest “taxi” (random van that just shoved us all into the back) to Pizza Zoom for strawberry juice and gelato. Overall, Pitbull still performed a killer concert, almost worth the pepper spraying.
0 Comments