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Bedouin woolen tents
Photographed in model Bedouin camp in UAE, 2000 April 22Bread rolls and croissants with preserves and café-au-lait and orange juice pursued us throughout the rest of Morocco.
Rolling through the countryside was a delight to me. Jean and I usually sat together on the bus, and she didn’t want the window seat. For long periods of time, I looked out the window at the not-quite-desert landscape. I could see “forever” across a barely undulating landscape of a dull cinnamon colour, touched by scrub bushes. Sometimes indifferent goats wandered across my view. Occasionally, in the distance, I saw a large Bedouin tent encampment. Their long, dark tents blended into the landscape, as if they were a natural feature. As we drove through villages and towns, I was intrigued by the variety of women’s dress. Some wore traditional dress and some wore Western styles, even amongst professionals and office workers. Within a group walking together, about half would be in one style or the other. To my imagination, it seemed that a woman would wake up in the morning and choose traditional or Western dress just for that day, perhaps choosing otherwise on another day. Lunch on the road was heavy for some and light for others. Apparently
if you went in the dining room, you ate the full lunch. I stayed on the terrace, as did a few others, despite cool, cloudy weather. I had lentils in a small amount of broth with a 2-inch cube of beef in the middle of the soup plate. Best of all, they served the local bread that is leavened, but is a low, round loaf (2 ½” high, 10” across). The flour seemed to be unbleached white and coarser than we have. Tasty. I had a 7-Up (“see-veen-ip”), failing to understand any other of the names offered. The driver took pity on my single state and came to drink coffee with me, although I steadfastly refused coffee, in deference to stomach when travelling. We had a smattering of French between us
The architecture in Marrakech was unique – at least I had never seen it before. Even large new buildings were designed in a heavy style of large blocks cut through with rectangular entrances and windows. The finish was red-clay in colour, although perhaps more modern materials were now used. The feel was of a city confident in its historic identity. Because this was a large bus tour, we Sacred building in Marrakech
Tower for the call to prayer didn’t get to alight and take photos. I tried to make mental pictures that would last. Unfortunately, questions were not encouraged; the commentary was scripted and delivered in English, French and German. I “practiced” my French by listening carefully to that commentary - essentially the same as the English patter.
The tagine this evening was closer to stew than the one we had in Fes. It had several different vegetables, such as tomatoes and green beans.
1989 October 11 Wednesday Marrakech
Lunch was the hotel meal today, because of the special “Fantasia” tonight. It was a smorg of excellent, and changing dishes. My tastes were: a white fish fried in a light cream sauce, deliciously spiced saffron rice with carrot (common ingredient), very smooth dark-tasting spinach, crisp French green beans, shredded carrot, and creamy nut torte with divine dribbles of chocolate.
“Fantasia” was fantastic. It was staged in a purpose-built outdoor courtyard a few miles outside Marrakech. As we came through the gates of the thick walls, horsemen in desert regalia greeted us, then singers and drummers, then women dancers ululating. A great cacophony as we walked along the red carpet. Just as
we came to huge tents set in a U, women threw rose petals. We were led past the gigantic honorific tent at the base of the U. A minister from Guinea or Ghana (I think that means the guide didn’t know) was visiting and being feted by the Moroccan counterpart. Rugs and cushions were spread around box-shapes built up from the floor. We were led to a large, permanent tent on one side. Inside were 8 – 10 smallish tables for eight with small chairs. Around the sides of the tent were cushioned banks for seating. The décor was on a gold and white theme.
After some time, our guide Antonio brought around bread. He evidently thought the servers were not attentive enough, although we saw them rushing about seating dozens of tourist groups. The bread was in large, round, deep baskets (24 inches across?) with high conical basket lids. Each table was allotted four bottles of wine, a good amount since only half our table drank wine. I stayed with the red - a full-bodied, full-flavoured Moroccan wine. All the wines here have been good – a strange reputation for a Moslem country. (In all the cafes they
only drink coffee or mint tea.)
The soup course was the delicious, somewhat anonymous, thin soup we have come to expect. This one had lentils in it.
As we ate these courses at a relaxed pace, the dancers and drummers and singers who greeted us strolled in for short performances. One set were racy, and the women picked out men in the audience (especially those in djellabas) to dance lewd scenes with them. This of course made for raucous entertainment and excellent digestion.
The tagine we were served was the one I have a recipe for, with prunes and lamb – juicy, tender and delicate flavours. Then came the couscous. This was a disappointment – it was far too mild, although the vegetables (carrots, celery, tomatoes, onions) were good. The couscous at lunch was a bit spicier, especially with something like curry flavours. The couscous looked very attractive on a large silver platter – large, pale, round with the colourful vegetables in the centre.
Dessert was something I had never before encountered. My best guess was that it was something like filo pastry, deep-fried, arranged on a large tray, dribbled with a barely sweet cream sauce,
Our guide in Marrakech
Making his way through the crowd to us sprinkled with nuts and cinnamon. The result was quite addictive, rather like a dessert version of nachos, where you just keep picking, in spite of your appetite.
The horse activity from the field in the centre of the U distracted us from dinner. Antonio had told us it would be put on again later, but a manager came by to say we had better to look now and have coffee and fruit afterwards. A welcome interlude in any case.
Previously, I had seen dancers out on the field. Now the horsemen were riding past, brandishing old guns. They gathered at the far end, for wave after wave of the dash to the guests. The idea, from my Nigerian experience, was to dash as fast as possible and pull up as short as possible in front of the guests. I think they did it more dangerously in the one I saw in Nigeria, but then I was in front and not at the side. It was thrilling! These fellows let off their muskets with great sparking as they pulled up.
A couple of riders did some trick riding, but the
Duce sisters at the Stampede were better. These
Snake charmer in Marrakech
A character from exotic tales male riders would probably be shocked and dismayed to think some women in Canada were better than them. The whole show came to an end with a long and spectacular fireworks show. That culminated with the spelling in fire of “Fantasia Marrakech”. Excellent entertainment that gave a real feel for festivals here.
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Isabel Gibson
non-member comment
You've done some amazing travelling and this trip to Marrakech almost 33 years ago is no exception. Interesting to see how your interest in photography has grown/changed - maybe in part due to the move from film to digital. The ceiling (mosaic tile?) is fabulous. Imagine the logistics of creating it . . .