Morocco

When I decided on Morocco as the destination of the year, I have to admit I had certain images in my head and pictures I wanted to take of sunsets over dunes and busy bazaars, of spice piles and date palms. Since doing a solo trip to Tunisia when I was but 18, I had craved a return to northern Africa so, as always, there was only one solution: buy the tickets and go.

We left in September and flew into the capital of Rabat. I really had no idea what to expect, short of what Lonely Planet described as a charming gem, and that soon proved very true. It was afternoon and a toasty 82 degrees. Fortunately, we had booked an absolute gem in the center of the Medina - a two story riad called Marhaba run by a delightful French couple. Cecile, a beautiful woman who had lived in Rabat for some 5  years, got us settled in a spectacular room and immediately brought us steaming hot mint tea on the rooftop terrace overlooking the city. And this was a hostel! 

Freshly-made goat cheese, jiben

We spent the rest of the afternoon chilling at the riad as the call for prayer resounded from loudspeakers throughout the city. It was Ramadan so there was fasting from breakfast to sundown. Out of respect, we waited until then to go in search for dinner. We settled on the west end of the Medina. It was neat to see people starting to emerge from their homes, jellabas everywhere, filling the ancient streets with noise little scooters crammed with whole families carrying huge woven baskets full of knoobz. 

We bought a box of almond cakes to munch on before we settled on dinner from a street vendor making knoobz stuffed with fried sardines, peppers and spices. It was one of the best meal I'd ever had. Simple and perfect. We bought a round of goat cheese, jiben, from another vendor and headed back to the hostel.

The riad's rooftop terrace

Street vendor making khoobz

Breakfast on the roof terrace was delicious - rghaif (a folded pastry), mesemem (Moroccan pancakes) and khoobz with argan honey and apricot jam. I missed coffee but here it was all about the mint tea. Stomachs full, we were off to explore. First stop was La Gare Rabat to get train tickets to Fes tomorrow, then a small archeological museum which had a nice collection of mostly Roman artifacts. After that, we went to the kasbah at Chellah. The site was initially settled by the Phoenicians, only to be taken by the Romans in 40 A.D. It since fell to Berber rule but eventually ended up being claimed by Merenid sultan Abou, who built a necropolis atop the existing city. It was a beautiful structure, peppered with colorful mosaics and dozens of stork nests, some perched precariously atop the minaret towers. 

Nesting stork at Kasbah Chellah

Rabat is called the City of Cats and lives up to its name. There are cats everywhere, some in better shape than others. Being a cat person, it was a bit hard to take in (even after feeding them plenty of sardines from lunch). It was nice to see, however, that they are respected for their hunting skills and provided with tidbits from the street vendors. 

Morocco has a rich French influence, especially along the coast, and Paris-style cafes were dotted all over Rabat. It was odd being in Northern Africa and being able to get a perfect cafe-au-lait and cheese as good as any in Montmatre. In the afternoon we walked to Kasbah des Oudaias, which is a walled section of the city close to the Mediterranean where all the houses are bright white and cerulean blue. There was a pretty Andalusian garden as well.
 

Kasbah des Oudaias

Kasbah kitty

 As it turned out, there were no trains out the following day. It had rained hard all night and a train had derailed so everything had been cancelled. Fortunately, we were able to spend another night in the riad, see the mausoleum of Mohammad V and then take a minibus out of town the following morning. We passed through the amazing Bab ar-Rhouah city gate, a fine farewell to beautiful Rabat.

Mausoleum of Mohammad V

Mausoleum guard

The drive to the imperial city of Fes took about 3 hours, passing through rolling, dry hills where sheep grazed and groves of olive trees stuck out of the dry land. Fes is an interesting place. It sits up against the Rif mountains and houses an ancient medina, which is an absolute labyrinth of narrow streets crammed with every possible bargain, thousands of people and donkeys, and hung with myriads of colorful fabric tarps, for want of a better word. 

We found a hostel, Pension Dahlia, which despite its completely gaudy decor, was very nice. The owner's brother was a guide (surprise!) and we hired him for a short city tour in the afternoon. We visited Mellah, the Jewish quarter, and the beautiful King's Hassan III's Palace, then did a short tour of a veterinary hospital that an American woman had set up to care for the city's donkeys. Afterwards we did the obligatory pottery tour but it was interesting and the potters were not pushing to buy anything.

Pool in Mellah

In the evening we went out for a full Moroccan dinner with something like twenty little dishes of delicious foods - olives, baba ganouche, favas, potatoes and large beans - and main dishes of preserved lemon chicken tagine and lamb with almonds and prunes. It was heavenly. 

A feast!

Our theatrical waiter - he didn't spill a drop

We spent the next day wandering around the Medina with an Australian couple and one of the guys from the hostel. It was an amazing place and we would have probably gotten lost without Abdel, so we tipped him copiously and ended up agreeing to a day trip into the mountains since, well, they have monkeys and I love monkeys.

Fes' colorful covered Medina

The walk ended with a trip to the tanneries - fascinating place but incredibly unhealthy for the workers who are literally up to their knees in lime and pigeon crap, used to tan hides, all day. This rather dangerous process has been used for millenia and turns out some of the finest leather in the world.

Hides being processed at the Fes tannery

The Fes tannery

Leather sandals made by the tannery shop

We also visited the Medersa as-Seffarine theological college, a beautiful building worth a visit. Then it was on through the quarters of the silver smiths, potters, plate makers, and finally a huge food market full of chickens, goats, olives, dates in huge piles and plethora of different spices.

Dyed wool

Next day's drive towards Bhalil passed through olive groves and sheep pastures. Once we reached the sleepy little town, we were invited into the home of an elderly man, Mohammed, who very proudly showed us a section in the Lonely Planet where he is mentioned. He went through the traditional mint tea ceremony that ended with many cups of very sweet tea and him singing to us in English, French and German. Very talented indeed.

Bhalil

Mohammed and the magic tea

Shepherd outside Azrou

The next town was Azrou where we had a nice lunch in a small tajine cafe, then we started climbing into the hills to see the Barbery apes. I asked our driver to stop several times along the way so I could take pictures of shepherds and the beautiful, rugged landscape. Once we reached the top of one of the hills and got out of the car, we were quickly surrounded by a small horde of cheeky monkeys grapping at our pants. It turns out that monkeys will be monkeys all over the world.

A night of traveling on a couple of buses and we finally ourselves in the spectacular Todgha Gorge in the High Atlas Mountains. We did not have anything booked there either but found a nice hostel, the Auberge le Toile des Gorge, which sits up snug against the gorge wall. Interesting plaace. The hostel had a whole network of terraces built into the rock, including one to hang our laundry. A walk around the tiny town revealed a shimmering blue river, a few little restaurants and a couple of stalls.

The people of Todgha were some of the friendliest yet, the women in particular were very chatty although we had some obvious language differences. As in most places, you can get far with hand signals and smiles.

The next day we did a nice, long walk of the gorge. There were narrow trails leading into deep side canyons and along the Todgha river grew date palms, fig and pomegranate trees. It was a very fertile valley, composed primarily of limestone, and in places the canyon walls reached as high as 1,300 feet. It felt like an oasis in an otherwise parched land.

Kids playing in the Todgha River

We spent the next couple of days trying out the few little eateries and walking in the gorge. It was so relaxing it was hard to leave. The hostel served delicious Berber omelettes for breakfast - absolutely unmissable if you come to Morocco - and huge mugs of milk coffee. There was a little internet cafe where we were able to connect with the outside world for an hour or so before the power failed. In the end it was time to leave so we squeezed into a regular-sized taxi with three people in the front passenger seat and five more in the back, stubbornly defying the laws of physics. We spent the 3 hour drive to the bus station showing the kids in the back seat a cartoon on our iPod, which made the time pass.

Hostel owner Fatima

Ramadan had just happened and everyone were trying to get home so getting a bus onward to the desert oasis town of Skoura was difficult until we got "adopted" by a carpet salesman who by some mysterious means managed to get us a couple of tickets. We felt obliged to pay back his kindness and bought - no, not a carpet - but a Tourag necklace that his son had allegedly made and which was really quite pretty. Safe on the local bus, crammed into a corner for the next three hours, we passed through some amazing desert landscape, the High Atlas mountains creating a beautiful and arid backdrop. And we saw our first camels, albeit at a distance and through some very dusty windows. But still.

In the afternoon, we finally arrived in Skoura where we got into bit of a bind since no one seemed to know any places to stay or speak neither French nor English. After a bit of hustling we ended up  with another carpet salesman, Najib, who surprisingly did not initially try and sell us a carpet. The backpacks might have been a dead giveaway that we definitely did not have room...

The ever-industrious Najib

One of Najib's creations

Najib turned out to be wonderful. He seemed to know everyone in town, pranced us around like he had won a prize and was overall one of the most likeable people I've ever met. He knew his stuff, offered us a reasonable price to guide us around, and was a wealth of information on the history of the area. Never pass up a good guide! He booked us into a genuine kasbah (fort), Kasbah Ait Audou, some 30 km outside of Skoura for the bargain price of $22 a night. There was not a single tourist around so we had the place to ourselves and were served a lavish tagine of chicken and apricots in a Bedouin tent in the courtyard. It was a nice little luxury among a long string of run-down hostels.

The luxurious Kasbah Ait Audou

Bread ovens

Kasbah Amridil - built in the 17th century

Oasis Skoura - view from our room

We spent the next day wandering around the oasis with Najib, who told us about the history of several of the other kasbah and showed us how they irrigated their small patches of corn and simultaneously fed the fig orchards. It was another place that was peaceful and hard to leave but leave we must so the following morning we got a car back to Skoura after many handshakes with our new best friend, Najib.

From Skoura we managed to get the last seats, as always, on a minibus to Ouarzazate which just happens to be the Mumbai of Morocco. Atop a hill sat a huge movie studio, inside a kasbah, a strange slice of modernity among mud-brick houses and the ever present donkey. According to the local posters adorning the walls of the studio, Lawrence of Arabia and The Mummy were shot in this area. We were in Mollywood! While waiting for the bus, we bought wide, airy desert pants in preparation for the foray into the Sahara and visited the little movie museum. Possible not worth the exorbitant entrance fee...

 

From the bus and into the desert

The bus ride into the desert was spectacular, cresting mountainous passes and deep, nameless gorges. The small clusters of houses that had lingered in the outskirts of Ouarzazate were swallowed up by the hills and replaced with wide uninhabited stretches of increasingly drier land. The bus was hotter than hell and we sweated through hours of ups and downs but mostly up as it climbed far into the mountains, crested a pass and descended into the desert. It was almost ten at night by the time we reached a small outfitter where we would be staying overnight and then heading into the Sahara the following morning. Exhausted from the heat and long journey, we barely registered that they had pulled a bait and switch on us - we would be riding camels all the way, for four long days, instead of the camel-jeep combo I had booked. And, almost as an afterthought, the rather pricey fee we had paid did not include all the water we would need. Ah, the joys of travel. I guess if we had wanted uneventful we would have gone to Munich.

So the following morning, after a pretty cool night - nothing to hold the heat in the desert - we were confronted by a hearty and very delicious breakfast and a man who was introduced as The Water Guy. He unashamedly told us we would need at least 4 liters per day, at the bargain price of $3 per liter. Yes, we knew they had us by the throat but we did need water and we had come all this way, so... An hour later we were presented with the camels, a sturdy looking bunch though not as enthused as I was at the prospect of riding them for the next four days. In retrospect, I think humans my size are not really meant to ride camels. They are like twice as wide as a horse and that stretches things in places that are not usually stretched. Needless to say, the first day was not the most comfortable transport I had ever embarked on - but it was really, really cool!

My noble steed, Hara'at

  

100 percent attitude

The Sahara is gorgeous. Contrary to what you might think, and what I thought, it is not all soft sand dunes. Actually, most of it is this incredibly hard-packed sand that meanders in wide swaths among said dunes. It does make it easier to walk on for human and camel alike. Before we started, we were introduced to our three Bedouin guides - Mohammed, Aziel, and Hassan - who were young and all smiles, and another couple who would be joining us from Seattle. Small world, eh? We got a quick lesson in commands for the camels but fortunately the guides would be leading them by ropes as well. And then we were off.

It was painful and really awesome. Within a couple of hours I knew it would be one of the most excruciating yet memorable experiences of my life. The temperature quickly rose to linger in the 90ies and we switched between riding and walking to give our sore thighs a rest. The land was stunning, rolling red dunes shimmering in the harsh sun. When we had gone for several hours, we stopped for lunch which the guides prepared - a simple meal of bread, sardines and cheese - then continued until dinner. And that's when the rain storm happened. It was insane. Within fifteen minutes the desert was transformed into a giant mud puddle and we were pelted with fine dust that covered and caked everything. It was kind of awesome. Until the sand storm hit. Yeah, it was a fine day.

Luxury dining!

Each night we ate dinner under a sea of stars and a sky as black as ink. The guides raised a canvas tent in which we all slept together under camel blankets that smelled like wet dog after that first rain but despite the occasional discomfort I loved every minute. One day, after walking for miles, we lay in a punchbowl, covered in flies, watching the little pellets of camel poo roll down the sides of the bowl and not caring and laughed until our bellies hurt at the ludicracy of it all. Quality time indeed.

Ninja making Berber whiskey

Getting ready for another day in the saddle

The day-end collapse

Our wonderful guides

 
After four days we reached Erg Chicaga, one of the tallest dunes in Morocco at 200 meters. It was huge. We walked to the top after lunch and again at sunset, the view and colors of the orange desert incomparable. It is still one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

View from Erg Chicaga

Erg Chicaga at sunset

Celebrating no more days in the saddle!

A last party before we left

A last view of the desert

We slept in real beds that last night in a small hut at the end of the road. The next day we were taken back to civilization in an ancient Jeep on a road that was really just a strip of hard sand, making several stops in small villages to stock up on lunch and other provisions along the way. 

Our lunch lady near Col du Tichka

Gnarly road in the Atlas mountains

Stuffed camel vendor

Once we reached Marrakesh 500 km later and settled into the comfortable Riad Hotel Assia, it was time to explore the city we had heard so much about. For one thing - we needed dinner. Fortunately, the Riad was only a five minute walk from Djemaa-el-Fna, the main square which at night magically unfolded into a thousand food vendor. It was wonderous! I've never eaten so much good food in one place before.

Merguez? Yes, please!

Garlic-fried snails? I'll take that, too

Among all the amazing food there were other vendors selling just about anything you could ever need or want. And some fun musicians... Djemaa -el-Fna is simply the gathering place for the whole city.

Djemaa el-Fna minaret

Spice stall

Tajines

After wandering around the market and down several streets, it became apparent that everything was for sale. Eventually we returned to the riad and slept better than we had in days, being in real beds, which seemed a bit of a luxury. The following morning we had breakfast on the roof terrace and just spent the day wandering around town. We got tickets to our next destination, Essaouira, since we were unfortunately running out of vacation time. We spent the afternoon at the Koutoubia minaret and gardens which were lovely. The evening found us back at the market, eating and enjoying our last night in Marrakesh.

The next morning we caught the early bus to Essaouira which took about 3 hours. We settled into Hotel Vague Ocean Bleu, a bit off the main streets in a quiet neighborhood, so that was nice after the hectic days in Marrakesh. The city definitely had a laid back beach vibe with lots of small art places, pottery shops, ice cream stalls and cafes. There is a heavy French influence so the coffee and pastries were excellent. We had a very good lunch at Chez Sam - fish & shrimp omelette, then walked to Port du Skala, a bastion facing the sea.

View of the city from Port du Skala

Lots of kitties around, most taken well care of by shop owners

Art shop along Artisinale Cooperative

 We eventually ended up on a street called the Artisinale Cooperative where local artists sells their wares and where the prices are fixed. It was nice not to have to haggle over everything and there were lots of beautiful pottery, baskets and other gifts. The artists were very nice to chat with and most of them fortunately spoke good English as my French is rather inadequate. In a little grocery store we got some cat food which we fed to some of the homeless kitties, all very friendly, so they are obviously used to being hand fed.

French...?

The heavy French influence had also left Essaouira with some delicious breakfast options and croissants were on the menu for breakfast. Mike took a day of chilling so I roamed the streets in search of gifts for people back home and ended up with an unhealthy quantity of delicious Argan oil. I spent some time wandering on the beach and visited the butcher shops in the Jewish Quarter. Dinner was found at Opera Sud off Place Moulay Hasson where they had excellent calamari.

The next day we took a bus to Casablanca from where we took another bus, after several hours of waiting, to Rabat. It was a rather uneventful day, except for watching an old man trying and finally succeeding in stuffing a live goat into the bus' luggage compartment, then getting onboard with twelve chickens in the main cabin. We checked into the Hotel de la Paix close to our old riad and had a nice dinner of fried calf brain, liver and ratatouille at Petit de Beur and my first glass of wine in 4 weeks. It was excellent!


We were leaving early the next day for the airport but the owner of the hotel got up even earlier so he could bring us coffee and croissants. After hugs and farewells we took off and then it was homeward bound, full of wonderful memories of all the things I would never forget. Morocco really is a land of wonders. Stressful at times, even a little aggravating, but one of the most beautiful places I have been.