🇫🇷🇲🇦 Winds of Time

Hello Adventurers, 

Since publishing the last issue of my newsletter seven days ago, I’ve done six marathons on two continents. And hit three different countries, one of which I’ve just landed in.

It’s a pace — and schedule — that would make others barf, but it’s my madman modus operandi: to playfully make each day feel like a race against the clock…where I aspire to wander as far — and see as much — as humanly possible. After all, that is the real goal of this project.

I engineered this approach long-ago on ‘marathon trips’ past to ensure I’d take nothing for granted, and I’m glad I did. Such leaves me with no time to laze around, which is of paramount importance for the success of this project (because a day lost is a marathon lost…which represents the high crime of 'things out there' left unseen).

Objectively, this approach isn’t relaxing and doesn’t feel good on the body (especially since I did another red-eye flight his week), but it is electrifying: every second has to count…or else I’m squandering my non-precious time in some very precious places (many of which I’ll never see again).

So yeah, I’m roaming the world like an electric Roomba-gone-haywire: sucking up all that I can…then leaving you with a vacuum bag full of bric-a-brac each week (i.e. the newsletter). This whole thing is free, and I’m not charging anyone anything for it. Rather, it is an offering; one I hope re/charges your imagination to see new possibilities in your own pursuits…as me and my imagination runs roams wild in my preferred pursuit.

And so here we go: from the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ supposed protector to the ‘eff you, nobody puts baby in the corner’ former protectorate…with me as your narrator…who is increasingly feeling child-like vulnerability as my English has decreasing use — and value — in these parts-to-me untold.

- Ben Pobjoy

P.S. The 'April Batch' of Pobjoy Postcards visited the Eiffel Tower before they were plopped in a Parisian mailbox (they'll likely arrive in the next four weeks). If you want to receive a monthly, one-of-a-kind handwritten postcard from me on my Marathon Earth Challenge, you can subscribe here.

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 19

• Flights taken: 28

• Kilometres flown: 48,986

• Marathons completed: 78

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 3,659.4

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 66,751

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: My airport-to-city taxi cab driver in Morocco identifying a gridlock-forming accident on the highway, and then reversing into oncoming traffic at like 40 km/h...to backtrack to an off-ramp about a click or so away so we could take another route. Neither of us had seatbelts on...because the car didn't have any😳

• The Biggest Obstacle: Nearly missing my Casablanca to Cairo flight...because my iPhone's 'automatic timezone' was faulty / incorrect. Note to self: use Google to check the actual time when I land somewhere new, and adjust my iPhone clock accordingly😒

• The Lesson Learned: Just a belated 'thank you' to my parents for enrolling me in the French immersion program in the public school system. TBH, it was very challenging, I mostly hated it, and it remains the most academically stressful thing I've ever done (i.e. weekly grammar tests from third grade to sixth grade were scarier than all university exams combined). However, it became the ultimate gift in adolescence and adulthood...and was the language I exclusively spoke in France and Morocco this past week. Parents, put your kids in an immersion language program...your kids will hate you for it...until they love you for it🤓

FIELD NOTES: PARIS, FRANCE (PART DEUX, SORT OF)

Liberté, egalité, fraternité...but for who?

Folks, I'm at the mercy of things like the weather, how nicely / un-nicely others treat me on the streets, and...well, my finite resources. And like France itself, I'm unable to fully walk my talk. You see, in the last issue of the newsletter, I promised to provide more field notes on Paris...but I was subsequently rained out on my two final marathons there, and couldn't overly risk whipping out my camera in the downpours (because I'm only travelling with one non-waterproof 'still' photography camera, and don't have the means to replace it).

That said, some higher order thoughts about Paris came to me on those two rainy Parisian marathons...thoughts about the collision of past and present there, and thoughts about the gulf between the place's supposed principles and its blue-sky-thinking promise...and said implications for the state of its society.

Anyway, as I marathoned concentric circles outwards from Paris' innards to its outskirts, I couldn't help but notice how the standard of living dimmed from the bright core to the shadowy periphery. And how that generally aligned with a monochromatic skin tone fade from light to dark, and from the bestest to the bleakest conditions.

And really, it just got me thinking about France's national motto, and wondering...but for who? Like really...who is it for? Is it for some or is it for all? Is it dumb-ass or Dumas? Because to me, wandering around...it just seemed like something for the sang bleu of empire's homegrown breadwinners...rather than the decolonized descendants, y'know those still defeated by deficiencies in things as varied as public policy and policing.

Unless you've pounded Paris' pavement like I have, this may be hard for you to understand, let alone visualize. So I'd encourage you to read up on the 2005 and 2007 riots here, and/or watch fictional movies like Les Misérables or Athena. Neither of those flicks were great IMO, but they do sorta explore a question I too was thinking about on my marathons over here: if there isn't liberty and equality, then how can there be social unity via cohesive fraternity in French society?

Paris is becoming more African (i.e. Maghreb and Sub-Saharan) with each visit, and IMO this gives the city more depth via diversity. But it is contentious. And it shouldn't be...because that's history, and the revolving door of movement and migration between yesterday's empire and today's colonies of yesteryear, in France and elsewhere.

And looking in, there's this clear sense that you reap what you sow...and France has to sew the widening rip in the fabric of Parisian society...shitily made with the fibres of a motley motto and then partially unraveled by the sphere of influence. And the latter is such a whopper, that not even a once great punk band could write a decent song about it.

Anyhoo, I live in a former colony turned colonizer where sensitive settlers couldn't even handle an artist fact-checking the Canadian national anthem. Everyone's so triggered these days...and that's why I pulled the trigger on going from a former-colony-turned-current-colonizer to a former-empire-with-œuf-on-one's-face to protectorate-seeking-independence-cum-kingdom. And whether it's Canada or France of Morocco, it's what makes this project so neat; it is one giant marathon through space and time, through history and politics, through everything...and me constantly observing the human condition while wandering the countries and the societies I traverse...thinking, "But for who?"

FIELD NOTES: CASABLANCA, MOROCCO

The internet was wrong

I returned to Morocco with some reservations. Yes, like I had an Airbnb reservation, duh. But me, I'm more so talking about returning with some baggage, despite the fact that I'm not travelling with luggage. Huh? Well, my last trip to Morocco in 2018 was both super special and super strange (even though I did a non-special and non-strange thing there by sneaking in an ultramarathon).

Overall, it was special because I took both my girlfriend AND my fiancé on that Morocco trip* (big baller energy), and special because we had an unintentionally hilarious dinner beside Robert Pattinson (not baller energy...the dinner wasn't expensive). And strange because I got shoved a few times by pushy locals for no good reason, strange because some vendors in the market were super misogynistic and objectively rude to my missus, and strange because I took the missus hiking to this one place that had really, really bad vibes (where other hikers were beheaded by Daesh a month later).

But look, when it comes to travel, one can have wrong experiences that form strong impressions. Alternatively, one can have strong experiences that form wrong impressions. And that's why I was willing to give Morocco another shot. And that's why I went to Casablanca instead of going back to Marrakesh.

And that's why you should occasionally shot block anything I say, suggest, or feel strongly about in this newsletter...because everything is subjective, and because 'place is a prism' where each of us can have a different or random or similar experience...all of which can change by the second.

Anyhoo, the internet repeatedly warned me that Casablanca is Morocco's boring economic centre. They were absolutely right, and I had a really excellent time there, as evidenced by the following...

*I proposed to my missus on that 2018 trip to Morocco, and that's when my girlfriend became my fiancé in the Agafay Desert (and has likely been regretting her decision ever since, LOL). Also, the missus claims that I asked her, "To be my wifey"...but FAKE NEWS! I'd never use such cornball language. That said, it is realistic that I'd say/ask something like, "Can you be my wife and pay for the WiFi?"

There are two main things you need to know about Casablanca: 1) I wasn't kidding when I said it was boring / I had an excellent time there 2) It is a breezy, coastal city on the Atlantic Ocean, and that really informs the place insofar as it has a major port, and has many beaches. The latter are must-visit...but not for the typical reasons.

There's a major boulevard in Casablanca that runs along the edge of the ocean, and it is flanked by a dual-lane'd promenade that accommodates both walking and cycling, and I basically hit it daily. And not because the beach is great. Objectively, it isn't: it is covered in a lot of trash and the shore is quite rocky.

However, I was fascinated by beach culture in Casablanca because of its unique-to-me modesty and Muslim flavour. What is first apparent to any visitor is that most beachgoers hang-out on the beach, few people swim, and even less surf.

In terms of wardrobe, some men are topless and in trunks, while women tend to be in tees and leggings. That may rankle some, but what I found very progressive was that all of the free-to-use public toilets along the beach were unisex. Male, female or trans...anyone could enter, and that would likely melt the minds of gender-obsessed fundamentalists in North America.

Mondays were the busiest day at the beach, and I enjoyed the camels hanging out on it as well the reckless teens riding horses at a million miles an hour along the shore.

And lastly, some other notable things near the beach:

• Sidi Abderrahman (pictured above) is an islet with a tomb for the 18th century hermit / healer namesake. It's nothing extraordinary, but warrants a visit just to cross the cool bridge to it

• Piscine Eden Rock is an abandoned public pool complex that is interesting to explore. It looks like it can collapse on itself any second / unhoused people squat there so explore accordingly

• El Hank Lighthouse is on a little peninsula that is fun to walk around. There's a nice lookout, lots of fishermen, people swimming from the rocks, and young couples sat on their motorbikes enjoying the views

If you're Edward Said's Orientalist nemesis, then you will be disappointed by Casablanca...because it is a fairly modern city. Yes, there are some old parts but this place is full of buildings and traffic. And I really enjoyed both. The buildings feel the wrath of the salty ocean air, and they're just so visual and textured due to their need to be constantly re-plastered and re-painted, and because they're also covered in satellite dishes, air conditioning units, and everyone's laundry. And the interplay between the motorbikes and the cars and the feral cats and the roundabouts and the roads is honky dory. Like really, the non-stop honking is wild. I spent hours on the streets in the city centre just because it was so loud, alive, and visual...and fun.

Also, Ain Diab is so wealthy that parts of it look like Beverly Hills. I mention this just so you don't come to Casablanca expecting Moorish architecture everywhere.

Casablanca was founded and settled by Berbers, conquered by Arabs, Portugal / Spain / France diddled it for hundreds of years, and Jews were largely there the whole time until Israel bought some of them. All of this is to say, that this place is a melting pot of many old and different cultures. As such, there's some wonderful traditional wardrobe on display. My personal favourite is the unisex Djellaba because it has a cool silhouette and big wizard energy.

And a funny anecdote...I posed for numerous photos in Casablanca because locals thought my tiny running shorts and my big-ass red beard were a hilarious lewk. I agreed, and we shared lots of laughs...because few men wear shorts here (it just isn't customary). I explained that I was wearing what I was wearing because I'm marathoning the earth, and that would constantly usher in cheers of 'welcome' and 'thanks for visiting us.' And right back atcha habibi!

I am sharing this photo for no other reason than the fact that these two miniature horses were adorable, had great hair, and were better dressed than me, and pretty much everyone I know. They were being walked by a boy who explained to me that the horses were five years old and fully grown. Swoon!

I love all things handmade, and was delighted by all the painted signs I saw in Arabic and Tifinagh. I always have to remind myself that the former is written from right to left, and the latter is just so visually striking and graphical. I found Tifinagh to be more present in Marrakesh, but one does see it from time to time in Casablanca...and it is always a treat for the eyes.

Scratch that, I love youth culture more than I love hand-painted stuff. It just makes me smile from ear to ear; seeing young people having fun, doing their thing, horsing around with mates, and making their own scene. Love it, forever.

Now, I know skaters hate rollerbladers and vice versa, and yada yada...but it was cool as hell to see young people throwing down big tricks at the Skatepark Rachidi (Nevada)...because the majority of the in-line skaters there had crappy gear. I'm talking base-level skates not meant for tricks...that were beaten to shit. And it almost brought a tear to my eye...not them 'making do' where I pitied them, but them going HAM without needing the requisite gear. I loved this passion because that's literally how the hardcore roll. We don't need the best gear...we just need the best attitude to make progress in our pursuits. No excuses, just excellence.

I also loved the hundreds of people in attendance cheering...from the old men in Fez caps to young women in burqas. Why? Because, I've grown up in the West, and for most of my life I've been on the receiving end of the entertainment establishment's anti-Arab / anti-Muslin films and television shows that depict these peoples as no-depth-characters-as-caricatures (i.e. the terrorist, the fundamentalist, the oppressed), and it's just such bullshit (and propaganda).

This is why I really encourage people to go to the Maghreb and/or the Middle East once in their lives. Yes, some of our beliefs, customs, and clothes are different...but when kids do big, bad-ass tricks outta the bowl...humans the world over love it (no matter where the damn skatepark is).

One aside, the Arab League Park is beside the skatepark. It is really nice, has a beautiful water feature, and is where I used the washroom about three times a day for free.

The Old Medina Market in Casablanca's city centre isn't that remarkable. Like, it isn't snaking and windy and covered like the Medina in Marrakesh, and isn't expertly merchandised like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul.

However, it is super cheap, and something I hit daily for food and beverages. For example, I got a 12 ounce cup of fresh squeezed orange juice for 80¢ USD and a giant bag of fresh strawberries weighing over a pound for $1.50 USD. One caveat...medina culture is always sorta push-y and yell-y, but don't be put off by it. I just ignore everything and only make contact with those I want to do business with. If you're an anxious person, you might find some of the vendors overbearing and annoying, but if you don't react to them then I promise you that they'll quickly pester someone else who does react.

Overall, Casablanca is super inexpensive...like city-wide. One's money goes far here in terms of accommodations and eating out and whatever else. Like, I had the most over-the-top 90 minute-long, extravagant haircut experience in the city...which is nonsensical because I am balding...and it cost less than a cinema ticket in Canada and was 1000x more entertaining.

As a tourist, the living is good in Casablanca...if you like doing nothing and enjoy like-nothing prices.

I'm not into religion because I believe the point of life is for one to determine what the point of life is. Said another way, I don't want to be given instructions by some organized religion...because then I'd have too much free time on my hands, and I'd waste even more time looking at dumb memes on the interwebz or going down more rabbit holes on Wikipedia.

However, the Hassan II Mosque is stunning, and is the inarguable landmark in Casablanca, and I'd encourage you to read more about it. Basically, it's the seventh largest mosque in the world, the minaret is nearly 700 feet tall, and 105,000 worshippers can gather there for prayer.

I really enjoyed visiting it at night when the waves crashed around it, the prayers over loudspeakers echoed off of its grounds, and the vendors out front rented little battery-operated cars with neon lights to kids.

Casablanca is a pretty tolerant place within the Arab Muslim world, and this mosque is fairly unique in that non-Muslims can take guided tours of it in-between prayers. In addition, things like the Jewish Cemetery and the Museum of Moroccan Judaism exist in the city too, and that type of coexistence is really worth checking out and celebrating in this part of the world.

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

On my first marathon of Casablanca, I was cruising out to Sindibad to go to the beach, and a minivan on the side of the road caught my eye. I thought it had broken down...but then I noticed the back doors were open, a huge umbrella was hanging off of it, a chill dude was standing there manning it, and there were some stools neatly arranged around the van on the shady part of the sidewalk.

And then the chrome shimmer of the espresso machine caught my eye...so I slowed my roll, rolled up, and ordered a doppio espresso. And oh daddy, it was the real deal: perfect crema, thick-ish in viscosity, chocolate-y in taste, and so strong that it'd put hairs on your chest.

And best of all wasn't that it was just 60¢ USD, it was that the whole coffee machine was powered by a solar panel on the roof of the minivan.

This represented my best discovery in Casablanca, and I hit these 'coffee vans' like 3-5 times daily (they're all around the city), and should I get kidney stones in a few weeks, know that I gladly gave them to myself courtesy of Casablanca's choice coffee.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought in Casablanca (all prices converted to USD):

• Three 330 millilitre cans of Pepsi Max, a 100 gram bag of barbecue chips, a 100 gram bar of dark chocolate, a 340 gram can of corn, a 400 gram can of carrots, and a 380 gram can of hummus from a grocery store: $10.08

• One pint of fresh raspberries from a street vendor's pull wagon: 49¢

• Haircut, beard trim, clean shave, hair wash, facial mask thingy, face exfoliation, face massage and just all around madness that was well-beyond my control / what I asked for...from an outstanding barbershop: $19.88

MARATHON MUSINGS

Skye's the limit

Real talk...only you can motivate you to change your life for the better. The courses, the books, the podcasts...sure, they're all inputs...but they don't mean zilch if you don't take a giant leap...via first step...towards whatever your desired destination is.

That may sound pessimistic, but I promise it isn't. Rather, I hope the following demonstrates the transformative power of possibility that resides in us all...if we're willing to put in the work.

About a decade ago, I was a human dumpster fire. Like, a totally fat piece of shit. And not a piece of shit because I was fat (bigness doesn't mean inherent badness via less human worth), but because I felt like shit a lot of the time...because I was morbidly obese.

Now hold your horses...I'm not body shaming anyone that is fat...because many are happy in their bigness and know they wear it well. Your body, your choice, and no judgment on my part...I promise.

More importantly, I want everyone to know that I never felt any shame in my bigger body (it was great for landing jokes via physical comedy and I never had any issue landing babes either). But my obesity was slowly killing me...because it was increasingly necessitating more visits to the hospital. And that was my personal, lived experience with it...one I don't project onto others because I'm not them.

At this time in my life, I was running an art gallery with my bestie Darv, a hopeless high-school dropout who was the crown king of all fuck-ups.

Danielle was our gallery assistant. She was physically tiny yet had massive vitality and an unmatched zest for life. And was just always down to help anyone.

And Jeremy was Danielle's friend (if my memory is correct). And he was someone who occasionally swung by our gallery for vernissages. He was a nice chap...I didn't know him that well...I think I just originally knew him as a skater which meant he was an auto-homie.

Those four people were all very different people. And they've all become very different people compared to their former selves...because they took some wild leaps, put in the work, and stayed the course to sunnier outcomes.

Me? I started moving in early 2015, lost 100 pounds in eight months, and found indescribable happiness thereafter trekking 66,000+ kilometres by foot around the world / now going for a world record. I got there, then kept going.

Dave honed his craft and became the best sign painter in Montreal, painting signage for the best restaurants in the city where he remains in constant demand. Today, he's painting works of art with five figure prices. He got there, then kept going.

Danielle studied nutrition, and helped many people improve their lives. And became a subject matter expert. She got there, then kept going.

Jeremy co-founded a little technical wear company with his mate Mike. It is/was Ciele Athletics, and it has evolved to be one of the world's best running brands. They just opened their first flagship, brick and mortar store. They got there, then kept going.

And all these different people have helped me in different ways.

Dave is my forever friend and one of my biggest supporters...who I can always count on to provide the realest critiques about my creativity.

I originally hired Danielle to overhaul my diet (and such remains the best few hundred bucks I've ever spent...in my life, and for my life). I learnt A LOT in the process, and Danielle's tweaks and recommendations completely reorientated my lifestyle.

And last month Mike and Jeremy from Ciele Athletics kindly sent me hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of complimentary technical gear (to outfit me on the second 'leg' of my Marathon Earth Challenge). Just because they're such honest supporters of my project (and they legitimately asked for nothing in return).

I can't believe I am here now, as I am today, totally transformed. And I can't speak for the others I've mentioned, but I hope they too recognize their wild transformations.

And me, I'm not boasting..but, like I just can't believe how I was able to turn my life around. It never seemed possible...until I made it possible.

The common thread?

We each put in the work. A first step followed by many more. And all of us stuck with it when it got hard. And each of us helped and/or supported others to make it easier for them. And we all kept going, because momentum powers growth. And if we stop, we know that our progress dies, period.

There was a time when I took taxi cabs absolutely everywhere because any physical movement would make me huff and puff.

And yet an athletics brand just sent me a huge box of free athletic gear.

This would've been totally unimaginable to my old self. Like, just all of it.

But I took a step along the way and got here.

And now adorned in gear I adore, I wouldn't ever stop...but now I really can't stop because I'd never be able to look Mike or Jeremy in the eye, LOL.

Anyway, there's a path. It may be in front of you, you may be on it already or you may be close to exiting it.

Go and keep going.

You'll be surprised by where you end up, and be surprised by who you can become.

Have any questions about the content of this newsletter? Reply to it, and I'll try and answer you when it's safe to do so!