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Published: December 14th 2013
Morocco has long been on my list of places to visit, but had never made it to the top. Perhaps I was unmotivated because it regularly used to get voted as one of the 'hassle capitals' of the world.
I had heard that there had been a concerted government campaign to change that behaviour because of a tangible reduction of the number of visitors.
This might be old news, but I can say at the outset that I would now class this as a low hassle country with some of the most kind and pleasant people you would care to meet.
Morocco also has the advantage of allowing Britons free entry for 3 months and is served by several budget airlines from theUK. We paid £30 (+ baggage) each way for flights to Marrakech.
As we were going to arrive in Marrakech in the evening I wanted to arrange our initial accommodation in advance. I couldn't find any double rooms in our price range online, so I booked a couple of dorm beds in a backpackers hostel in the city centre. This has some upside optionality, so I figured
that there was only a 50%!c(MISSING)hance that we would actually end up sleeping in the dorm.
We arrived amid a major thunderstorm and took a taxi into the city, not realising that traffic cannot penetrate into the lanes of the medina. We were dropped off nearby and a boy guided us through the streets to the hostel. Fortunately we were damp rather than drenched when we arrived.
We presented ourselves to the hostel manager with our booking. He looked a bit agitated and asked us to wait in the seating area with a complimentary tea. The seating area was basically the floor of the ground floor of the hostel covered with cushions and rugs and a few random young people.
After a lengthy wait the manager reappeared.
'Sorry, the dorm is full. I have arranged for you to stay in the building next door.'
This turned out to be a nice ensuite room in a pleasant
riad (traditional house) in which we passed our time in Marrakech for the price of a couple of dorm beds.
(Summary: They don't want us oldies spoiling the party).
The happening part of Marrakech is the bigplazaof Djemaael-Fna. A hive of activity comprising minstrels, street theatre and snake charmers as well as juice stalls and flatpack table restaurants, islands amongst the flow of the crowd. The nasal wail of reed flutes permeates the air as you peer over shoulders and through legs to try to ascertain what is occurring. Point your camera at an individual troubadour and an assigned accomplice materialises between you and the subject with palm outstretched.
Many streets emanate from Djemaa el-Fna, all worthy of exploration. We ventured further to visit an old palace, an old madersa and some old tombs. Each was equally as interesting as the walk to find it.
I booked into another backpackers hostel in Essaouria, not with any tactics in mind, but simply because they offered a double room for £10. They were friendly enough, but the question ' Do you want the room with or without electricity?' and the rudimentary nature of the empty room plus mattress ensured that we did not stay more than one night.
Fortunately, Essaouria is a sizable town and it didn't
take us long to find a very pleasant hotel in the medina for £15 including breakfast. (The breakfast enabled us to rationalise the extra fiver).
The medina is typically the original part of a town, often built around the 17
th century.
In those days there were lots of pirates and robbers, and occasional invading armies, so they built their towns with a protective wall around them and sometimes built another fort in the centre – the Kasbah. The streets and buildings evolved according to the topography and the wealth and business of the occupants.
In the modern era 'New Towns' have expanded the footprint beyond the medina walls as the populations have expanded. Medinas remain mainly lived in by local people, with the quaint parts turned over to tourism as a means of income.
The medina of Essaouria was built by design. The sultan hired a French architect to plan the town on a rocky piece of land by the sea. The name itself means 'well designed'.
Cannons still point out to sea from the ramparts, green from the oxidised copper content in the metal
(I hope that's right).
The characterful medina is fronted by a large plaza which can be crossed to reach the port. Here there is an active industry of fishing and boat building. Fishermen gamely put up with the hoards of tourists pointing their cameras at them while they trim the nets and gut the fish. Calling seagulls circle all around searching for scraps.
A few steps further on you will find the town beach. When the tide is out it is a golden horseshoe of glistening sand, inviting you to walk for miles.
When the tide is full you may find yourself walking alongside the rubbish strewn dunes and progress is hampered by an occasional camel ride tout. Placid dromedaries await near the prime surfing area, their dry dung balls accumulating along the high tide line.
Essaouria is known for its strong winds, reliable enough to attract reams of kite boarders, but not reliable enough to base a holiday upon, I would suggest. In our experience, it was like a shift worker – four days on & four days off. The wind also creates waves suitable for surfers
of all abilities. This is theAtlantic Oceanthough, wetsuits are required.
There are islands in the bay with a visible mosque, prison walls and some houses. These are
'Les Iles de Mogador', these days referred to as thePurpleIslands. They were settled by the Phoenicians in ancient times due to their population of murex snails.
The Phoenicians had developed a complex method of extracting purple dye from the mucus of these snails. It took about 10,000 snails to produce an ounce of dye which has the unusual characteristic of becoming more intense with exposure to the sun. Consequently the dye was highly prized and restricted to nobility, sometimes on pain of death.
This dye colour is known as Tyrian purple as the Phoenicians came from the region of Tyre, all the way over in modern-day Lebanon. The Greek name of this dye was
porphura, which is the derivation of the word purple.
Today the islands are out of bounds for humans. They are an important nature reserve for breeding falcons (and, possibly, murex snails).
The shifting tides of trade and conquest have led many Powers
to leave their mark onMorocco.
In El Jadida it was the Portuguese who built a fortress here in 1506. We spent a relaxing hour or two exploring the ramparts, which enclose a modest 'city'.
The original cistern, for the collection and storage of fresh water, is interesting. It is a large vaulted chamber, enclosed but for a hole in the roof which reflects ethereally in a pool of water on the ground. Those crafty Portuguese designed it so that, wherever you stand, it is impossible to get a photo which includes both the hole and the reflection.
El Jadida had a thriving snack culture, whereby local restaurants fiercely compete to provide the best chicken and chips. In our naivety we thought it would be a template for the rest of the country. Sadly not.
Rabat, the capital, was a pleasant surprise (ie. it was pleasant).
Our budget hotel was strategically placed on the lane at the entrance to the medina. That was handy during the day for our loping around but became a bit of a crush zone in the evenings when the city's population
turned up for their constitutional. That was a bit scary, so we crossed the road in the other direction for a coffee in the New Town.
In this case the Kasbah is impressively located on a strategic cliff top overlooking the point where a wide river meets the ocean. It dates back to the 12
th century. Outside its walls an old cemetery creeps down to the sea.
Across the river the sister town ofSaléalso has a huge cemetery between the city walls and the sea. The long bridge over the river has a footpath so we could walk over and have a look around.
We took the train to Meknés, which turned out to be the least interesting place of the trip. It didn't help that all the pavements were being dug up so we had to walk in the road a lot. By now we were becoming picky in our medina comparisons.Mekneshad big walls, a big plaza, impressive gateways and a nice museum, but didn't win any prizes.
The general atmosphere did not seem as easy-going as we had experienced elsewhere. We put this down to the
local drinking culture – Meknés has more bars than any other Moroccan city.
Most other towns are dominated by café culture, which is generally restricted to a male clientele. I would assume that few Moroccan men spend the evening at home when they could be chatting with their mates at their favourite coffeeshop.
We visitedFezon a day trip as it is only 40 minutes from Meknés by train and I could not locate anywhere economical to stay.
There is a huge, confusing medina and we were lost straight away. As we wandered around the backstreets the inhabitants would say 'No, go this way', then around the corner another would say 'go this way' and we would soon find ourselves back where we started. After a couple of hours of disorientation we eventually found a landmark on our guidebook map and manoeuvred ourselves into the touristic section. One visit was sufficient.
Another day trip took us to Moulay Idriss, a picturesque hilltop town 20 km from Meknés. This used to be a hyper Islamic town, named after Idriss the first, a great grandson of the Prophet Mohammed. He unified
much of northernMoroccoin the name of Islam around AD 790 and his tomb is in the centre of the medina. Non Muslims were not even allowed to venture into this town until the middle of the last century.
There are a couple of viewpoints overlooking the town centre. We found one on our own, a local lad showed us around the corner to the other. He seemed to be hanging around so I dropped him 5 Dirham.
'The Guide Fee is 50 Dirham' he complained.
I didn't know the Arabic for 'Dream on'.
Azrou is a market town nestled in the heart of the Middle Atlas mountain range. Each day we would walk to one of the surrounding hilltops and admire the bucolic plains spread out into the distance.
At dusk, each of the local cafés boiled up a big pot of Harira – traditional Moroccan soup. A bowl of this with crusty bread cost about 30p. I sampled some freshly boiled snails from a street vendor.
After a day descending the Middle Atlas mountains and ascending into theRifmountains, we came to Chefchaouen.
This charming medina of winding alleys and blue and white dwellings is interesting to wander through and looks great from across the valley. The renovated Kasbah stands alongside the main plaza, which is lined with cafés ideal for people watching.
We hadn't planned to stay so long, but 'just one more day' became a running joke between us and Mohammed, the hotelier.
We were there for the Muslim festival of Eid el-Adha. This involves the home slaughtering of, and feasting on, goats.
For a few days beforehand we had noticed the presence of goats everywhere as they were redistributed from pasture to parlour.
'The streets will be rivers of blood' said one enthusiast, not accounting for the bucketfuls of rinsing water that were actually used.
The carcasses were stripped and hung in the houses. Fleeces were collected by the children and taken for processing. Some people cooked the chopped off heads on braziers outside their front doors,
'Why are you cooking the head?' we asked.
'To eat the cheeks' was the reply.
Such delicacies pass us by in theUK.
Eventually we tore ourselves away and went to Tetouan, a major town of the region.
Things got off to a great start as we bagged a 3
rd floor room with a balcony overlooking the town centre for £7.50 a night. Unfortunately, the town was not interesting enough to justify us spending more than a couple of days there. A walk through the time-worn medina and to the top of the hillside cemetery was pleasant enough.
Strangely for a big town, and anywhere Moroccan for that matter, there was a distinct lack of eateries. One can only eat so much pizza.
A few kilometres outside of Tetouan lies the seaside town ofMartil. We finally got to dip our toes in the Mediterranean Sea of Morocco's north coast. It was just as cold as theAtlantic.
Back on the Atlantic coast we spent a couple of days in Larache.
Out of season seaside towns can occasionally be great finds but are more normally a bit d e a d. This one was the latter, particularly as the boat service required to get to the beach was not running.
However, the hotel here was the best deal of the trip - a spacious en-suite double with balcony & wifi for £10.
Assilah is probably the closest thing to an archetypal old town in this part of the world. The medina, dating from the 15
th century is quaint enough to be interesting and residential enough to have lots of 'a
vendre' signs. The New Town is clean and well kept and boasts a wealth of sidewalk cafés. Tourist restaurants sit in the shade of the rampart walls and a wide boulevard takes you towards the beach.
North of town one can walk for miles along the sands. Head south and you are atop rugged cliffs sheltering rocky bays.
Our most northerly point found us in Tangier. The medina is on a steep hill. At the top we looked out across the Straight of Gibraltar at southernSpain.
Tangiers has had a very colourful history. Standing at the prime strategic gateway between Europe andNorth Africa, it has been subjected to waves of assaults and occupations over the years. Even the British held it for a while in the 1600's. You
have to conjure up your own sense of context though, as the place holds little charm of its own.
The town beach is a lot nicer than one might expect and is separated from the town by wide corniche. Ferries ply the routes to nearby European ports.
We hoped to escape the encroaching autumn chills by heading back south.
Casablancamade a convenient stop and, anyway, it would be a shame to miss it.
The city centre is surprisingly grand, from an architectural point of view. The Portuguese named the town Casa Branca in the 1500's, the Spanish changed that to Casablancaduring their period of influence. The French arrived by force early in the 20
th century and supplied the boulevards and colonial grandeur appropriate for the jewel in their crown. It was not until 1958 thatMorocco emerged as an independent state.
Our foray towards the south was hardly ambitious. The allure of the possible destinations was insufficient to tempt us into hours of bus travel. I think the whole region south of Marrakech would be better approached with a hired car.
A full
day in Taroudant was sufficient to fully appreciate its famous city walls and rather hectic atmosphere.
In Sidi Ifni, our balcony provided a bird's eye view of the surfers trying to catch the next big wave. During the day the town was almost deserted. Even the sunset promenaders were thin on the ground. In contrast, the seafront campsites were well stocked with continental camper vans. This must be an 'in place' for the RV crowd.
We ended up back at Essaouria, our favourite place, for a short rest before returning to theUK.
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