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Published: February 2nd 2013
Bonjour/es salaam alaykum.
Having being in a state of semi-awakeness for over 36 hours, we stepped off the plane at Casablanca airport. Unusual for us, we had pre-booked a hotel room and an airport pick-up by taxi, but it was a great choice, given that it was late and our ability to negotiate prices in a French/Arabic mix was hindered somewhat!
We rested in a rather pleasant and spacious hotel room with a balcony and lots of windows - we were quite lucky to have found a room like this for so cheap!
In the morning we explored the streets, souqs (markets) and medina (old part of town) of Morocco's largest city. We twisted through the labyrinthine alleyways and discovered a seemingly endless amount of vendors selling almost anything imaginable... We certainly got our fix of fresh fruit and fresh warm breads. The noises and smells in these areas are an integral part of the experience. They are neither good nor bad, but the olfactory senses can be quite overwhelmed at times. And acute vision and hearing were essential to avoid being mowed over by motorbikes and donkeys.
By far the most impressive sight in the city
Close up!
The top of the giant door and the tile-work of the mosque... Casablanca.was Hassan II Mosque. Its 210m high minaret makes it the tallest buiding in the country and it is decorated by incredible tilework. The doors are gigantic, boast wonderful craftsmanship and are covered with carvings. Very impressive!
We boarded a train to Marrakech, about three hours to the south of Casablanca, where we spent many hours getting lost amongst the maze-like, signless medinas and souqs. But that was what it was all about - just wandering and exploring the delights of these fascinating areas. The Marrakech medina was very impressive. There were many things to see and experience. From snake-charmers to jugglers to orange juice vendors to clothes stalls. There were antique dealers, fruit sellers, welders welding, carpenters, cake makers, potters, you name it! A beautifully dressed lady in her full veiled outfit approached Theresa attempting to sell her a henna tattoo.
"Non merci", but the lady persisted.
"Non merci."
Then, suddenly, surrounded by three ladies, one grabbed Theresa's hand and started to draw a flower with the henna gel.
"No!", Theresa yelled, grabbed her hand back and said, "take it off!" She just giggled and said "no", walking away. Not that Theresa was unfamiliar
Buying Fruit.
From a vendor in the Casablanca medina. with henna tattoos, but the principle of 'henna-ing' someone against their will was not acceptable. Just one example of the pushiness of many of the people, especially if they have something to sell and you are a walking target/tourist.
Haggling in the souqs was an experience to be had. We found the experience quite disappointing due to the fact that most shop keepers could speak English and were just higher on the slimy list. That being said, bartering is always a learning experience and is great for a story or two. Theresa bought one item at the souq and later discovered that she paid way too much for it. No worries, it was just a scarf. But we are conscious of the other tourists that will be duped in future dealings. Sigh, such is the way...!?
Some friends of ours told us about the tajine with dates - a delicious, flavoursome stew of veggies and your choice of meat with dates or prunes. We had a chance to try this lovely dish a couple of times and we were not disappointed. It is served sizzling in a metal bowl and is piping hot - very, very good!
Buying more food.
Casablanca Medina. Whilst walking down the main drag towards the Market, we were approached by a local man (i.e. dodgy character) from Marrakech. He claimed to have a friend who worked at a tourist office and that we should invest in a good map of the city, even though we told him repeatedly that we had a map and knew where we were going. He insisted that his map was better and that we should meet him on the corner two blocks down. (Yeah right!) He told us that there was a short cut to the markets - but anyone and their dog could tell that he was trying to scam us. Theresa rolled her eyes as the interaction continued. The man started to lecture us, "You Canadians are afraid and shy. I know many Canadians from when I lived in London so why are you like this? Other Canadians don't react like you two", he said in a vexed tone. We were speechless in his tone of accusation as we got more and more aware of the manipulative behaviour. Finally, Theresa lost her cool...
"You know, I'm getting rather tired of your accusations. In fact, you are being very insulting
towards us. I do not at all like your tone!" And without another word, he jumped onto his motorbike and rode off. It was like he knew he was not going to be able scam us and decided not to waste his time. We also wondered if a woman speaking to a man this way was also too much for him to handle in his culture. We will never know... And we are perfectly fine with that! We continued our stroll towards the markets as we called him unpleasant names and had a good laugh. We had no idea what his intentions were - but he sure to heck knew ours!
After few days in these hustly-bustly cities, we decided to head to the mountains for some fresh air and hiking. Imlil was our destination. So we headed to the taxi stand on the edge of the city, where long distance taxis were waiting for customers. They took one look at us and knew there was money to be made. Yes, we got ripped off, but at least Dave bargained to pay at the end of our trip vs. paying half now and then half at the end.
We stayed in a cute little campsite in the midst of the village of Imlil. We were close to all the little shops and an internet cafe. It had a gorgeous view of the mountains, and a lovely view of people coming and going from the public drop toilets, just behind our campground! Until the next day, we did not realize that our landlady was indeed a fruitbar. Read on.
We hiked a little way into the mountains, enjoying the break from the crazy city that lay only a few miles up the road. People were dressed in traditional clothing and lived out very simple lives in Imlil. Many were cattle or goat herders and many worked in small stores selling handwoven fabrics from the artisans around the area. Of course, people tried to sell us stuff every few yards and we got bugged by tour guides who wanted to tour us around the area. We really just wanted to enjoy the fresh air and not be hassled. But we were learning that this is not possible. We had quite a tough time telling them that we just wanted to explore on our own and just wander. They had
a hard time accepting this fact.
We sat and rested on a rock more than a mile above sea level before wandering back down the steep footpath that meandered back to Imlil. On the way down Theresa's foot started to have pain upon pressure, making our descent a little slower... Back in town we decided that an X-ray was needed to see if any damage had been done... We chose to head back to the city...
When we decided to leave the campground we had made the executive decision to trade the tent for some fabrics with one of the locals. The local gentleman (who was very likely called Mustafa) asked to see the tent, so I led him down to where we had it set up. He was happy with what he saw and we made a deal. When the campsite owner saw our bags packed, with him onsite, she started to freaked out, yelling in French at Mustapha and at us! Our French is not great, but we gathered that she was unhappy with us, because we were 'apparently' moving to another campsite with Mustafa. We tried to explain that we were heading back to the
city and did not need the tent any more, but she was having none of it, so off she trotted to the cops! All we could hear was screaming and shouting in a bucketful of different languages. She eventually calmed down, but she was still most displeased with us... Afterwards, I asked the police if there was still a problem and they responded by telling me that there was!
"She is the problem", said the main police chief. "She is always the problem - she is crazy."
We'd kinda gathered that already!
We waited by the side of the road for a ride back to the city - the crazy lady and the cops were watching us... We don't think they liked us very much?
Our shared taxi drove at top speed all the way back to Marrakech, occasionally skidding to a stop to drop people off or to pick them up. When we got out of the vehicle all we could smell was brakes and clutch - it always puzzles us as to why people from poorer countries, more often than not, drive completely recklessly?! Of course that is just a generalisation - but it
Ding-a-ling
Medina life, Marrakech seems to be fairly accurate.
We spent the next couple of days in Marrakech, drinking fresh grapefruit juice and exploring more of the narrow, winding lanes - but it became quite apparent that we wouldn't be doing a great deal of hiking this time around due to Theresa's injured foot, and although we could've found some sunshine and taken it easy on a beach somewhere - we decided to move northwards instead... Where good healthcare in English, and an x-ray machine awaited.
Stay tuned...
Dave and Theresa...
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Just Cuz
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Casablanca Dave and ......
Lady Theresa of the Madina....hope your foot was okay...... As usual, everytime you send me your travel blogs, I look outside my window at the - 30 to -40 weather and cry! Thanks ......I guess I needed that :) lol I\'m so happy you guys are doing what you love to do........explore, be wise and be careful...... Best to you both Cheers