Morocco, Day 3 (Bring Sensible Shoes)

On our third day, Saturday the 20th of August, we devoured our breakfast quickly and headed out before 9am to get to our pre-booked excursion to the Ourika valley. We had no idea whether this tour would be any good, or whether anyone would turn up at all to take us. This seemed increasingly more likely as 9am came and went, but we were waiting with one other chap from Uruguay, which made it bearable.

Eventually a man came by and told us the guide would be arriving shortly as he was picking up some people from the other hotels and within a few minutes, we were greeted by our very friendly guide (whose name escapes me at present). We were bundled into the back of a van with a bunch of Spanish people (there were 7 of us altogether) and we were on the road.



We drove for a while along the flat and barren semi-desert landscape past the royal palace with its many uniformed guards and past the new luxury hotel super-complexes, some of which are only half finished. On and on we went, not really knowing which direction we were going, only that it was vaguely into the sun, so eastward. We passed dry riverbeds and empty fields and a massive water themed fun park.

Eventually hills started looming before us and we pulled over several times to take in the breathtaking views (I'm going to try to pace myself on adjectives here, lest I run out. Please forgive me if I re-use some). There was a very mysterious fog-like haze that obscured any long distance view, even though it was approaching 30 degrees. You can see it in these photos of a Berber village on the other side of a river valley:





Onward we drove into the hills, which became mountains. The roads became windier and steeper and we couldn't help but notice the soil and how red it was in these parts. I'm not sure how long we drove for, but it can't have been more than 2 hours.









We stopped off at one of the Berber villages where they produce argan oil by hand. It was a little bit touristy and they tried to sell us their natural perfumes and handcreams in the shop at the end. Having said that, they really did live in a collection of brick and mud-plaster houses in the middle of nowhere, so you have to appreciate that just a little.







We carried on and found ourselves on a very narrow road running alongside a quite substantial stream. This water was the lifeline for a string of properties that lined its banks, rickety rope bridges connecting them to the road. We followed this along for about half an hour, at which point we reached a bit of a settlement and the paved road ended. This is where we parked the van and hopped out, still quite unaware of the true object of our trip (other than the vague notion of a waterfall).







And so began our ascent. We finally understood the instructions of the man who booked our excursion the day before. "Wear sensible shoes" he had warned us. Our choice of Converse sneakers did the trick for me, but Kristen's left her feet a bit blistered and raw. It should be noted at this point that our guide was leading us up the mountain having had absolutely nothing to eat or drink all day. Onwards and upwards...



Now, stop for a minute and admire the scale of things here. Those jagged peaks are far up and high and surrounding us on all sides, enveloping us as the cruel sun beats down on us from above, as we in a gesture almost mocking climb higher towards it. Our one and a half litre bottle of water has dwindled to less than half, but this doesn't worry us too much as the locals have a cunning solution:



Berber fridges! Using the cool mountain stream to keep drinks cold. However, still more marvellous sights await as we climb upwards.





I don't think the photos capture the full awe and majesty our heat addled brains were experiencing at the time. We even arrived at the first waterfall to rest for a few minutes and our guide told us that this was the 'tourist' waterfall and that we would be going higher. This involved climbing up a rickety ladder put in place by an old man when we approached, scrambling up slick, wet rocks covered in loose shingle with no hand-holds and negotiating narrow ledges with a sheer drop on one side. Here is me looking intrepid:



I don't think you're fully appreciating the scale at this point. So here's a picture looking up the waterfall. You'll notice that I've circled a climber in red:



There are not words enough to describe the feeling on being on the side of that mountain looking down at the valley below. Photographs tend to flatten out and lose depth and the sense of mind boggling hugeness goes away.







Finally, we made it to the top of the track, where a cascade plunged down the steep cliff and into a shallow pool. I don't know if it's possible, but humour me and imagine how that icy cold water felt on my sore feet after climbing for an hour up a rocky cliff face in 35 degree heat with no shade.







Absolute bliss. Heaven on Earth. I sat there for half an hour, my back against the rock face, my feet dangling in the water, giddy with happiness. It was sad to have to pack up and head back down the mountain, as forever would not have been long enough there.



Once we reached the bottom of the mountain again, we were taken to a restaurant while our guide had a well deserved kip and had another beautiful tagine meal. We were bundled back into the van and driven of back towards Marrakesh by our half delirious driver. We stopped off to be dicks on a very dodgy bridge along the way.









I could go on and on about the beauty of the countryside. It's not at all the desert I had assumed it would be.



We arrived home, tired and spent after having been passed by the King himself in an insane motorcade. I will leave this entry with a sunset. No matter where I am now, when I see a sunset, I will always be reminded of Morocco and the strangeness and wonder I felt there.

Marrakesh, day 2

I guess you could say that our second day in Morocco began at 3:30am as the 5 minute long call to prayer started up at the mosque about 20 metres away from us. We were awoken immediately from our slumber, but not at all surprised as we had been expecting this. In fact, it became a contest of will not to let this local custom get the better of us and so each morning we met it with a determination to sleep through it. I believe we failed at this for the most part.

When we finally awoke at 7am, it was to the soft light of the day peeking through our curtains as we lay uncovered on the top of our sheets. I have to say it went from around 30 degrees when we went to sleep all the way down to around 15 at some point during the night, so we did shiver just a little. Despite any discomfort, I really can say that I felt well rested from my sleep and we were ready by 8am to head to the terrace for our breakfast of breads, spreads, OJ and coffee:



I want to put the reader now at the mercy of my rambles at this point. I feel this is necessary as by this, the second day in Morocco, the layers of my mind were beginning to peel back like an onion and reveal the vulnerable core inside. The first day, I was tired and bothered and overwhelmed by it all and I was feeling quite bothered by all the locals to be honest. But that's the magic of travel; what seems at first so alien and foreign to the way I do things quickly becomes natural and normal if I can open myself to them and accept them. I love to just soak and osmose other cultures through my skin.

I came to a realisation, for example, on the second day that every place that I've travelled since London has had its signature beverage; one which I have tried there and latched onto for the duration of my stay. For Germany, it was the hot Gluhwein, which infused my freezing bones with welcome warmth. Paris, it was the wine, of course. At least one glass, or a carafe with every meal. I swear I was half drunk my whole time in France. Belgium was all about the beer. I had several bottles of Chimay Bleue and loved the sense of ceremony and love lavished on every bottle by the bar staff. So what about Morocco? Well... Read on after the donkey.



After breakfast we both headed down to the Dar Si Said museum which was closed the day before. For the small price of 10Dh we wandered through to a cramped riad style building with a series of museum-like displays of local and Berber pieces from carpets to clothing. This occasionally opened up to a courtyard, quite like the Bahia palace. We were not at all prepared for the part where we climbed up some steps and found ourselves in the grand ornate chambers up there. Unfortunately they were quite strict about controlling the cameras there, so no pictures.



Next up we found our way back to the closest excursion guide shop near our riad and booked ourselves in for a trip to the Ourika valley from 9am the following morning. With that bit of business out of the way, we went to the square and sat down at our favourite cafe there to plan the rest of our day.



We had a few things we wanted to do, so over a coffee and an almond/milk concoction we planned to hit the souq in a big way and actually interact with the locals. We were assisted in this by a local kitten. We also wanted to see if we could find where the famed lamb alley could be found, although we knew it would be closed for Ramadan.



So we wandered to the other side of the square, where we were drawn to the tower of the biggest mosque in town. This lay on the other side of a busy and chaotic road that looked a bit more paved than the others. There was a crossing, but it didn't seem like anyone really paid attention to it.



So we had a poke around there, seeing what appeared to be hundreds of prayer stations lined up on the outside. Non-muslims are not welcome inside the mosques, so I have no idea what goes on inside at all. But anyhow, by this point our pockets were being weighed down by the wads of unspent cash, so we dared to re-enter the shade of the souqs.



I can't remember the exact order that things occurred here, but at some point we worked up enough courage to buy a pair of Fez caps from a vendor. Now, the buying process is not simple at all. The shopkeeper will lead with an outrageous price and it's up to you to bargain and see how desperate he is to sell it to you. It can be hard walking into a shop and seeing a lot of pretty, shiny things and spending 15 minutes haggling for something only to give up in frustration when you know you don't want to pay more than your last meagre offer. The magic: when you turn around to leave, saying "no, no, I'm sorry" and the shopkeeper grabs your elbow and says "OK, OK 150 dirham" when he started bidding at 600.

Did I mention that Kristen is good at bargaining? It got to the point where I would just casually point to something I wanted and the just let her go at it and she would invariably get a good price. However, the market isn't all niknacs and junk. We found the chicken and rabbit market, which stunk like you wouldn't believe and seemed a little cruel until you realise all these chickens are plump and probably arrived in this morning. The fruit and vegetables also seem very fresh.





After a good burst of shopping, we headed back to drop off our plunder and then hunted out the Earth Cafe, a vegetarian restaurant, for some lunch. I had a filo envelope stuffed with feta cheese and vegetables while Kristen had a kind of vegetarian haggis. It was absolutely amazing and lavish and worth every penny.



This is where it all went wrong. I checked the temperature earlier, it was only 36 degrees. How could I know it would skyrocket up to 41? We had decided over lunch to haggle for more goods and so we crossed over the square, the heat feeling like the inside of an oven. A monster was rising up inside me, born of heat exhaustion and dehydration. I have to admit I lost my mind and my temper a little and I left Kristen to her own devices in the souq. (I knew I just HAD to get out or I would be on the floor, foaming at the mouth). Here's what she did:





Meanwhile, I struggled back across the square towards our favourite cafe and I took a seat and ordered up a strong cafe au lait (it comes in a little glass with sugar cubes). This is the part where I talk about my personal beverage of Morocco. Are you ready? It's water. Pure, cold, clean, wet water. In that heat, with my brain slowly boiling in my skull, there was nothing quite as amazing as that 1.5 litre bottle of water.

After an hour of watching the goings on of the square, Kristen came back with her purchases and I was just paying up. We limped back to the riad together to await the sunset. We also met a turtle who seems to live on the terrace. I believe he looks like his name is Siegfried.



So, night fell and we crept once more into the souqs to look for bargains. We did go a bit crazy with the shopping, but if you could only see all the stuff... Look at this guy with his mountain of sweets:



So, finally we come to dinner. Remembering the hassle of last night's dinner, we headed down another street that seemed to have a few nice restaurants. We ignored the people trying to convince us to come upstairs with them to a place with beer and wine (unlicensed for sure and being sneaky) and found our way to a chawarma hut with outdoor seating. Here, I ordered the lamb and lemon tangia and Kristen had the beef and prunes tagine.



Just thinking about that tangia now makes my brain turn to mush. It was absolutely amazing; a mixture of salty and sour and sweet with big pieces of fatty lamb on the bone all through it. Such a simple recipe, but so perfect in execution and it has been done that way for centuries. Of course, the keen eye will spot the large bottle of ice-cold water accompanying the meal. Perfection.

Marrakesh, day 1

Thursday 18th August:

We woke up at 2am and caught the N207 at 2:45am to Marble Arch and then from there to Victoria station to catch the 3:30am Gatwick express to the airport. We arrived at 4am and checked our bag and had an hour or so to spare in the duty free area. The flight departed at 6:25am and we arrived at Marrakesh airport at about 9:30am local time after an only slightly uncomfortable flight.

It was about 23 degrees at the time we left the plane and heated up to 36 degrees as the day went on. We went through customs with no problems and took out 2000Dh cash each from the ATM, which is about £160. When we emerged from the airport we wandered over to where the taxis were parked and tried to bargain a good price for a taxi into town but failed quite badly due to being tired and bewildered. We ended up paying 20 Euro and were dropped off down the road from our riad.

We walked up the street in the direction we needed to go and quickly became lost and overwhelmed in the almost enclosed alley/road with scooters rushing by. We headed down another side alley and found ourselves wandering lost and so asked a workman for directions and he asked a local who was riding by on a donkey with a cart. We agreed if he could get us to our riad that we'd give him 30Dh and off we went down the road behind the donkey and cart.

5 minutes later we turned down another nondescript alleyway and were shown to a heavy wooden door on a plastered wall, which led to our riad. He rang the doorbell 3 times and just when it seemed no one was going to answer, the door opened up and we were ushered inside. After a bit of confusion as to who we were and where our booking was, we were taken up to the roof deck and given some tea as our room was not yet ready. Half an hour later we were led up to the adjacent rooftop and given our small but amazingly decorated room.

By this time it was 11am and we were eager to get out and explore, so we dumped our possessions and made our way out and onto the nearby main square, the Djema el Fna, which was an explosion of activity and craziness. There were snake charmers, men with monkeys, a man with a whole table covered in human teeth, scooters, taxis, donkeys, heat and smells of every kind. We crossed the square and found ourselves being drawn into the main Souk in town.

The souk is a covered market; a warren of cool and shaded shop stalls all crowded together and displaying a multitude of colourful wares. Despite the very faint warning in the back of my head not to wander mindlessly, I found my feet taking me in random directions down alleys and we quickly found ourselves to be hopelessly lost. Somehow this didn't matter and my logic told me that if I walked in one direction long enough I'd come out, but even now I don't think that's true. It seems more like Narnia in that once one passes the entrance, there's another world that goes on forever.

We did eventually end up looping around and coming out again at another part of the main square, at which point we went to the cafe and had some lunch of a lamb tagine and chicken cous cous and then decided to do the Lonely Planet guide walking tour, starting with a visit to the Bahia Palace.

The palace seemed rather nondescript from outside and we actually walked right up to it and then away at first not imagining that could be what we were looking for. Half an hour of wandering and 10dh (77p) each, we were admitted to the palace. We didn't know what to make of it at first, but we soon passed through the entry halls into a lush garden courtyard and then wandered from room to lavishly tiled room. I will let the pictures speak for themselves here:

After that we went looking for the Dar Si Said museum, which was closed from 3pm due to Ramadan, but we made a note of the location to come back tomorrow. Of course, by this stage we were getting a little bit tired from the heat and the lack of sleep, so we wandered aimlessly for a bit and I let us get pulled aside by a spice trader who delighted in telling us what everything was for in his shop, then invited us in for tea.

It was a very strong brew he made us and of course he couldn't share it with us, but he was a really nice guy and delighted in showing us his pet lizard. He even let me hold it! We sat and enjoyed the shade of his place for a short while and bought a few spices and tea from him; he even gave us some gifts.

But by that stage I was exhausted and just needed to relax for a while, so we went back to the riad and I chilled out for a short while as Kristen went out to the square to look around by herself. She came back about 30 minutes later after being accosted and painted by some extortionist henna tattooist and some crazy medicine man. Also, she discovered how disgusting and chauvinistic the men are - they really do take lewd comments and dirty looks to a whole new level.

We went back to the square together and I had my heart set on going to one of the balcony cafes overlooking the square. We had tea and coffee at one and watched the sun go down and the food stalls start setting up in the square. Of course at the moment the sun had disappeared at around 7:15pm, the mosques all announced that it was time to break the fast, which was a terrible, wonderful racket.

The night temperatures were quite a lot more bearable and we decided to check out the street food. Trying to just casually look around the dining areas is impossible as each shop has people standing nearby waiting to thrust a menu into your face and lead you to a meal. They'll do their best to try and impress you with their knowledge of English culture and try to make you laugh. It's really rather a pain if all you want to do is watch the spectacle and the only way it ever lets up is if you give in and sit down.

We did eventually pick a place to sit down at and the food was actually expensive for the portion size and not the best quality either. I'm not sure if that's how it always is there, but we didn't go back an try again as we found better elsewhere.

Another quick look around the souks and a 1/4 kg of Moroccan pastries later, we headed back to our room to sleep.