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Published: October 21st 2007
Our original desire to go to Morocco came after we had a chat with Jamal, a good friend of Benoit’s. Jamal has an apartment in Fes, and had booked flights in September, inviting us along to stay in his apartment - an offer difficult to refuse. We were not the only ones accompanying him - his dad and bubbly girlfriend, Julia were to join us.
Luckily French is spoken widely in Morocco, so at least one of us could communicate well with the locals. It’s not the cheapest country to travel in though, so we had to watch our dirhams along the way, as we hadn’t budgeted for a trip like this.
On the Sunday night, we arrived late in Fes, and didn’t see much travelling with a mad grand taxi driver from the airport to Jam’s apartment. The next morning, we got to see the area - ville nouvelle - for what it is. There are apartments being built everywhere here, so at the moment, it’s a bit of a construction site, but you can see the potential. Everything starts early in Morocco, sunrise is about 5am, and the construction workers start not long after, carrying heavy loads
of concrete and bricks. Its incredibly manual, the work that they do. I was excited to be in North Africa, for the first time, such a change from the first world.
We followed Jamal and his dad around the first day. It was great to have someone who spoke Arabic. Jamal’s aunt invited us all round to her house for lunch, in Sefrou, a town not far from Fes. A petit taxi ride, and then another harrowing grand taxi ride to Sefrou (I was wondering whether it would be my last) and we arrived at the gate of the old town.
Our lunch at Jamal’s aunt’s was a fine example of the generous hospitality of Moroccan people. We sat down to a delicious meal of roast chicken, vegetables and salad all presented as if it were in a 5 star hotel. The ladies in the kitchen decorated each plate so beautifully, we could not believe it. And they did everything, we were not able to even help with packing up.
We were told to have a siesta after, and waited for the midday heat to cool down. After our little siesta we watched a scratchy video of a
recent cousin’s wedding. It was interesting to see, a traditional Moroccan wedding. Apparently it goes on all day till the following morning. The new young bride looked exhausted at the end of the video. The aunty served us a traditional afternoon tea - home made patisseries with mint tea, and gave us a bag to take home. Just delicious. She urged us to come back again, and welcomed us to stay in her humble house. I was quite astonished to see such generosity.
Back in the Sefrou town, me and Benoit got a haircut each for only 5 pounds. Both of us got a special blow dry with the cut which we hated, but had to smile and say merci, c’est tres bien, tres beau! After the incredible haircut, we walked round the souq, circling the same shops over and again, but it was a nice introduction to Moroccan souqs, or a warm up for Fes. No hassling, and not many tourists, quite local and easy going.
The next morning, quite eager to see the medieval city of Fes, me and Benoit headed out early to the old town. After reading in the LP about how convoluted the
streets are, and how tourists get easily lost in the souq, I tried to follow the map in my book but it was impossible as there are no street names. So we got slightly lost in the souq. Not the best time to wander in the morning, with all mules going to and coming from the tanneries, locals screaming ‘Baluk’ (meaning move out the way) in your ears. Donkeys and mules are still the main form of transport there, with all the tiny streets which you’d never get a vehicle through. It got a bit claustrophobic at times. However, we got to purchase a leather bag for me, and Benoit got his babouche.
The souq of Fes is said to be the largest living Islamic medieval city in the world. I think we got to see perhaps a quarter of it, after walking around all day. That afternoon, we met Jamal and his girlfriend and again it seemed we were walking around in circles looking at carpets, mosaics, art work, jewellery, clothing, not buying much. It was good to accompany them though, because we never had any intention to buy, and they did, so we got to see shop
keepers showing off their products and not be hassled to buy.
Fes is said to be the cultural capital of Morocco. I was amazed to see how everything is still done by hand over there. We walked into shops to see how they make the leather products, all sown together by hand, saw how the mosaics are made, by carefully chiselling each piece manually. After it all we were exhausted from the day, and enjoyed a very refreshing mint tea.
With only 15 days in Morocco, we couldn’t afford to stay any longer in Fes. After all, we felt we had exhausted our appetite for shopping, all in one day. So the following morning, we took the 6am bus to Azrou. A very early start to the day, we had to be up at 5am to make it to the bus shelter in time.
Azrou sounded like a relaxing, cooler option after hectic Fes, so we thought we'd stay a night. Getting off the bus, we tried to find our Hotel Salame, walking through alleyways, and small streets, asking anyone who looks semi decent where this place is. It took a while, and I wondered what the
rest of our trip will be like if it always takes so long to find a hotel. The problem, again, was a lack of street names. We checked into the hotel, and enquired what there is to do in Azrou, the friendly owner mentioned waterfalls that can be seen in the area, but own transport is needed. It was also the market day of Ain Leuh, a little mountain town 30 mins from Azrou, ideal day for getting public transport.
Our grand taxi drive to Ain Leuh wasn’t as life threatening as the one in Fes. The market day added a busy atmosphere to the town, bringing out tribes people from the surrounding mountain villages. Any appetite we had disappeared while we were in Ain Leuh, after seeing the meat hanging out in the sun, and sheep’s head for sale. We were most defiantly the only tourists of the day.
We sat down at a café for a mint tea, hoping to use the toilet, which Benoit did but warned me after not to attempt it. In Morocco, a tradition in the morning is for the men to go drink coffee - while the women work in the
house - and that’s what you see all morning, men in coffee shops chatting over an espresso or mint tea. I actually wondered whether women were allowed to these cafes, apparently they are, but its just not done.
As relaxing as it was at the café, watching the busy little town, people meeting and greeting, we were directly opposite the grand taxi parking, and the black fumes from the diesel were a bit hard on the lungs.
The grand taxis in Morocco are old rickety Mercedes carrying at least 7 people (including the driver). They are licensed to take people out of town, whereas the petit taxis are not. Diesel is used as opposed to petrol, because its cheaper. The pollution seems not to bother people, whereas I was literally walking round with a handkerchief covering my nose most times.
Ain Leuh is quite a charming little town, once off the one busy road. We bumped into some kids, who became our guides, trying to speak French, we walked up the mountain and took some photos of the village. There’s not much more to do in Ain Leuh, so we headed back to Azrou. (there are no waterfalls
in Ain Leuh, despite what the LP says).
A line of restaurants, all offering ‘the best tajine in town’ awaited us back in Azrou, we were pretty hungry by then, so chose one and shared a good but simple vegetarian tajine with bread and soda for around 40 dirhams (4 euros). Afternoon heat is unbearable in Morocco, and we were quite tired after the early morning so we chilled out in the tiny room in our hotel. Once we finished our siesta, and were fresh to think clearly, we decided to move if we can that night to the next stop, since there isn’t much to do if you don’t have a car. A bus was leaving at 5pm, we lost the money we paid for the room, but it wasn’t a bother if we could have an extra day later along the way.
So, packed the bags again, and jumped on an old bus heading for Midelt. At Midelt we were planning to get to a campsite 15kms out of town, but we arrived later than expected and the grand taxis were not prepared to take us there late at night, only for an exorbitant price. A
‘friendly’ young guy hooked onto us and offered to show us to our hotel, that we were looking for, but I felt quite uncomfortable following him and kept on turning back to the main road. Eventually he left us and we took the nearest hotel to the bus station, not wanting to walk around with our packs late at night.
The trip that we wanted to do in Midelt - organized by a tourism agency - of the Cirque Jaffer was not running the next day since there weren’t enough people wanting to go. This is the problem of travelling in low season. Our hotel owner said he’d organize something for us, but he wasn’t very specific in telling us exactly what it we would be paying for. Luckily we bumped into the guy who works with the grand taxis, and he mentioned a day trip he could do for us, in the Gorges D’Aouli. We were quite desperate to do something, so went with him.
The Gorges D’Aouli, 15 km from Midelt, is where an abandoned French mining town exists. We first stopped for ‘lunch’ at the house of the driver of our ‘4X4’. Lunch was bread
stuffed with animal fat and vegetables … mmmm! I drank the mint tea, and they insisted I ate, which I did reluctantly. The houses where our guide and driver live were all built by the French and just left for the locals after the mining dried up. They showed us huge caves drilled out of the landscape for mining. Further along we passed massive rocky gorges, and onto the main mining town, which is like a ghost town now.
We saw where the French once lived, opposed to the simple Moroccan accommodation and walked up one of the mountain ridges, to view a nearby Berber village and its lush green Kasbah in the distance. At the top of this mountain ridge, there are more deserted houses built for the French now protected by a guardian and his small family. The guardian’s wife offered us mint tea and oven baked bread, and we sat overlooking the surrounding mountain peaks eating bread and cheese, with her cute kids. Benoit offered the woman some money at the end, which she refused outright, something that you wouldn’t find in the big cities. I felt satisfied to be out in the fresh mountain air,
away from diesel cars and tourist hasslers.
Back in Midelt, we found ourselves on the next bus out that evening leaving for Er Rachidia. Sitting in the rickety bus, waiting for it to leave - the busses don’t leave on time, they wait to get full first - I read about Merzouga and the area leading up to Er Rachidia, reputed for having the worst hassle in the country. It worried me a bit, and I imagined us arriving late at night laden with our big packs and having to push past people harassing us whilst trying to find our hotel. But it was hardly the case. We arrived after 8, only one young man approached us, and we found our hotel relatively easy. The drive through the Ziz valley to Er Rachidia, past Kasbahs and ksours, through mountainous landscape and palmeries was just spectacular.
Our hotel el Ansar, in Er Rachidia, said to be clean in the LP, was anything but. The room was ok, but toilets were diabolical. It was the cheapest hotel we stayed in - 60 DH (6 euros) per night, and for that reason only I would recommend it. A sly looking character
was waiting outside the hotel when we arrived, and immediately got friendly with us, asking us whether we were going to Merzouga. He showed us photos of him in a band, and mentioned that he comes from the town, and is going back tomorrow (what a co-incidence). When we left later to get a bite to eat, he followed us, and asked if we are looking for a restaurant. Never knowing what exactly these people want - and not really wanting to find out - we always politely say ‘no merci ‘. It was a bit unnerving though, being followed like that.
The next morning, the same dude was hanging outside the hotel, this time with his friend who apparently had a car and was heading to Merzouga that morning. They said there are another two tourists coming with them, and if we want to come along we can. It seemed a bit too easy, so we politely declined and said we will make our own way thanks. You can never be sure what their intentions are, so its better to just find your own way, even if it’s a bit more complicated.
The trip to Merzouga was
really stunning. In addition to the sparse desert landscape, scattered with palmeries and Kasbahs, we passed some really classy hotels and resorts. Unfortunately, we had to stop at Rissani to change taxis, and once getting out the car, were approached by a couple of men trying to organize our life for us. Everything is based on commission with them, so obviously they are just trying to make a living, but they can get a bit pushy and are incredibly insistent. We waded past the crowd, to make our own way to the grand taxis, frantically consulting the lonely planet to find where these taxis for Merzouga actually leave from. (You wouldn’t dare ask anyone, you’d be led astray immediately).
Half an hour later or so, we were in the taxi for Merzouga, all 7 of us squashed in like sardines. A friendly Japanese guy squeezed in next to us - eventually another tourist - told us that he had travelled through Africa on his own (quite impressive). He was headed for a specific hotel recommended to him by a friend. We wandered whether our chosen hotel was the best one, and weren’t sure whether to go to it after
all. There are many backpacker accommodations in Merzouga, the problem is to choose one. We eventually decided to head to the Merzouga village and make up our minds there.
The dusty village of Merzouga, with good views of the largest sand dune - Erg Chebbi - is very small, with not much to look at. There are a couple of interesting traditional medicinal shops selling herbs and oils, and when we arrived it looked incredibly sleepy - must have been siesta time. We started walking to one of the closer backpacker hotels in the town, to check it out. Along the way, a car stopped and out jumped a cool looking Arabic guy, with his Moroccan friend/guide at the back and a Japanese-French lady from Paris in the drivers seat. They said they were tourists, asked us where we were going, if we were looking for a hotel, and mentioned that the hotel they have been staying in is fantastic. My sceptical mind immediately started analyzing the situation and wondering whether they are commission seeking people or just genuine tourists. We thanked them for the recommendation, got their cell phone number, and said we’d call if we decide to
go to their hotel.
After looking at Chez Julia, a tastefully decorated backpackers around the corner, we found our new friends at the restaurant in the village. In the meantime, we had decided that these people aren’t crooks, and look pretty genuine, so if we see them we will go with them to their hotel. Lucky we did, because we ended up spending the rest of our holiday with this couple, Kamel and Jade.
At the restaurant we discussed the evenings plans. Our friends had decided to do the camel sunset tour, organized by the hotel. Our new Merzouga guide, Mohammed, took us on a search to find a bottle of wine, since we were to sleep in the desert that night. We went to a very smart hotel, but they were reluctant to part with their precious alcohol. Liquor can be found in expensive hotels but it is quite rare. The licence to serve alcohol, in a Muslim country, must be huge. Mohammed also took us back to the town, to find some argan oil for my extremely dry skin, a result of the heat, sun and dryness of the air. We also bought a scarf for
the desert camel trip. Benoit negotiated the poor guy to breaking point on the scarves, and we got them for nearly nothing. Everything seemed to be very quiet there, it was low season after all, and there seemed to me to be an abundance of good accommodation but with not many tourists (pity - one local mentioned it could be due to terrorism).
Camels are funny creatures with their big lips, nostrils tiny ears and those long legs. Jumping on and off one is a bit of a big deal, so once you’re on that’s it for a while. Its like a rollercoaster when the camel gets off his knees and onto his feet, we were told to hold on tight. But the camel tour had to be done, to get into the true spirit of the desert. It was quite a laugh, being on top of this camel, swaying side to side. As we moved away from Merzouga, the litter faded and we saw some huge dunes formed by the winds and also sand from the nearby Algerian Sahara desert. We saw a person being buried alive in the sand, said to cure rheumatism, at this time of
year is when its really hot, perhaps 60 degrees C under there.
Just before sunset, our caravan arrived at the campsite. It was a perfect night, and Mohammed told us we are able to sleep outside under the stars - sounded perfect. There was a Berber tent with plenty of blankets and mattresses. That night, Mohammed cooked us a hearty tajine, which we wolfed down. There were many other people in the same campsite, and the night finished with the tour guides playing bongo drums and dancing.
We couldn’t see the stars clearly because the moon was so bright, but we were able to climb one of the dunes. Sleeping proved to be a problem, as the Spanish tourists decided to do ‘fiesta’ all night and stayed up chatting till the morning. I decided to move far away to get some sleep, and realized the next morning I actually slept next to the camel camp. That morning I woke up to the horrendous moan these camels made when the guides forced them to get up (not the best wake up call!).
The trip back to the town I even opted to give good old Jimi Hendrix (the
name of my camel) a break, and walked most of the way back, mainly from a sore butt from the previous trip in. Camels are not the most comfortable form of transport - I admire those Tuareg men.
Back at the hotel, we discussed over a breakfast of coffee, pancakes and bread and jam our next step. Kamel and Jade asked us if we wanted to travel with them in their rented car, since they are also heading towards Marrakesh and leaving a day after us. We agreed to half the price of the rental per day and also petrol costs - a winning situation. I was relieved to not have to take public transport anymore, and the car was like luxury after those old rickety grand taxis and buses.
So we decided to head off that morning after breakfast, towards the Cascades D’Ouzoud. We drove all day, through dusty desert villages, past Berber tents, sandstorms in the distance. One stop was at a Tuareg tent, where we saw these wells alongside the road, and stopped to have a look. The Berber, living in this deserted place, spoke to Kamel in Arabic and mentioned the wells are quite
dry now since they haven’t had rain for a while. He brought out a few treasures for us to buy, and we felt compelled to buy something, only 10 dirhams for a fossil (not sure if its real). Leaving I wondered how on earth those people live there in this bleak, desolate place, just waiting for passer-by’s to stop.
It was great travelling with someone who spoke Arabic, and Kamel patiently translated the conversations to us in French all the time. With the more interesting and genuine older people, he often sparked conversation with and we found out a lot about the locals from that. Kamel is one who can make friends with anyone, not afraid to talk to strangers.
After almost a full day of driving, we realized we were nowhere near the Cascades D’Ouzoud, and might as well stop overnight somewhere. The Todra Gorge was a perfect overnight stop. The Gorge is magnificent, rising out of the crystal clear river. We found a campsite in a stunning location, in the Gorge, and were able to sleep on the roof top terrace for 20 dirhams a night.
The following morning, we had a long drive ahead
of us, to get to the Cascade. Our campsite owner told us the road we wanted to originally take was not passable, due to the previous years floods, so we had to go along the Dades valley. The road from Tinehir to Ouarzazate was quite interesting, we passed lots of palmeries, and Kasbahs. The route from Skoura is famously named ‘valley of a thousand Kasbahs’.
We travelled over this bridge, with wet carpets hanging over it, and stopped the car to check out what was happening. Looking down we saw the local women washing carpets in the river, and sneaked a photo or two in. One of the big mamas saw us and waved her stick at us, threatening us in Arabic. We sped off.
The most photographic for me, is peoples faces, and I tried to sneak in a photo here and there, but Moroccans don’t like being photographed at all, especially the women. I think its because they think we are taking photos of them because they look strange or unusual to us, quite the contrary - I think the people have such interesting faces, with so much character. The children were easy going, and loved having
their photo taken, luckily because they were so cute and adorable.
That afternoon we turned off the main road and crossed the Atlas in order to get to the other side. It was around 100 kms to cross, which we didn’t realise it would be winding bends all the way. Nevertheless, it was a stunning drive with the mountains’ dramatic scenery. We drove past many Berber villages, and stopped to chat to the mountain kids walking in the street. One group of kids got incredibly excited when they saw Kamel had some coins to give them, and they all ran towards the front car door, screaming in French ‘give me a dirham’, ‘give me a dirham’. We thought they might try to jump in the car, so drove off with them running after us. What a laugh.
Along the way we stopped at a ‘restaurant’, cause we were all starving, after underestimating the amount of time it would take us to pass these mountains. The restaurant owner said he could make us anything we want, so we asked for a quick omelette with bread, cheese and salad. The bill came to about 100 dirhams for 4 people (about
10 euros), with soda and water, it was really one of the best value meals we had.
At the end, arriving late at the Cascades D’Ouzoud, it was already dark. Approaching the small village we saw masses of people in the street, and had to drive really slow. Trying to find our chosen campsite, we asked some of the people in the streets. Everyone we asked gave us a different story - ‘the road to that campsite is difficult to find, let me get in your car and show you the way, or 'there is no camping like that, let me show you where the camping is, come with me’… One very rude guy refused to speak to Kamel in Arabic, and said he doesn’t speak the language, later on we passed the same guy and he spoke to him in Arabic, suddenly changing his mind. We were a bit anxious about getting out of the car, after feeling a bit of aggression from the people in the streets, so drove around trying to find the campsite. Fed up after a while, we drove off back to Azilal and found a reasonable hotel.
Most nights in Morocco, we
ended up eating dinner late, around 9pm. Unfortunately most restaurants are ending their service then, and there is often not much food left when we wanted. That night, in Azilal, we walked around trying to find a restaurant that would satisfy all of our different cravings. Not many restaurants were serving what we wanted, so I decided to go to bed - not very hungry anyway - and the rest of them searched further and found a place to eat eventually.
We decided to stay another night in Azilal, and explore the region. We spent the following day in the car again, driving round the lush Ait Bou Goumez Valley. A nice morning tea stop was at a local ‘café’, where we sat drinking mint tea overlooking the spectacular mountain scenery whilst Kamel chatted - and translated - to the old man who lives there. He said its hard there during winter, with the snow blocking the roads into the mountain.
A group of kids on route convinced us to buy a big bag of freshly picked figs for something like 20 dirhams, hardly anything. We should have just given them the money and told them to keep
the figs, because there were just too many for us.
The mountains are a really special place, not just the scenery, but the mountain people. The children we saw and spoke to really impressed us. They are just so innocent and their life untouched by evils. I hope that way of life is preserved, because its really unique.
On our way out of the valley, it started pouring with rain, and we saw the earth on top of the road start to break up and get washed away. Within minutes, we saw the a piece of the road in front of us break off and wash away with the force of the rain! Benoit nervously thought of stopping the car, but behind us saw a torrent of water and mud come streaming down. The road was literally being flooded. He had no choice but to drive, luckily the Polo made it through, and we got out safely. Crazy stuff… Now I can understand what the old man meant about the life being hard due to the elements.
Late that afternoon we arrived at the Cascades again, not leaving it till too late this time round. We were
hoping to have a swim after the very hot day in the car. The cascades are one of the most spectacular in Morocco, which obviously pulls the crowds in. Walking down the steep steps towards the base of the waterfall, we saw plenty of restaurants and shops alongside, all vying for customers. There were heaps of Moroccans, jumping in tacky tourist boats to get closer to the falls. And, unexpectedly no-one was swimming except a couple of kids. There definately weren’t any women wearing skimpy bikinis, this is a Muslim country after all. So me and Jade decided to find a corner where there aren’t too many people and go for a dip. The water was icy cold and I felt uncomfortable with all the people around so we just dipped in and out. The falls, however, are spectacular, dropping 110 meters.
Now the food we ate in Morocco was not as we dreamed of. I found the Moroccan restaurant in Nimes (france) to be much nicer than any of the meals we ate in Morocco itself. And there wasn’t much choice, it was either tajine, couscous (however, only on Fridays), Harira (Moroccan soup), or Moroccan salad (red onions,
tomatoes, celery in a vinaigrette) and also in Fes we had keftas. I usually ate vegetarian, and was fine the whole time, however Benoit had an upset stomach the entire time we were there.
The most divine for me was the Moroccan patisseries, and they were so cheap. We also found lots of places selling crepes - Moroccan style, very thick almost like a pancake, sprinkled with semolina. And of course in Essaouira we ate lovely seafood, being close to the sea.
Moving on the following morning, onto Marrakesh. We got there fairly quickly, and once there the heat began to set in. It must have been about 45 degrees in the car, I was dying to get out but Benoit had some problems trying to drive in this mad city. The roundabouts are a nightmare, and the roads complete chaos, we are so lucky we didn’t have an accident. Benoit was incredibly stressed at the whole affair! Eventually we were able to enter the old town (medina) but through the Kings palace, which doesn’t normally allow passers through but I suppose the King wasn’t around that day cause we passed through with no problems. Once out of
the steaming car, we started looking for the hotel that we wanted, found it and it was fully booked. But the area we were in was full of hotels so we walked until we found one. It was a lovely riad with blue and white mosaic, and lots of plants.
While checking in, the hotel owner had some words with Kamel. The law in Morocco is that no Muslim couple can stay in a hotel room without being married. The hotel owner questioned Kamel and Jade’s marital status, and asked to see their proof of marriage. Kamel, of course is from Tunisia, and this law applies to any Arab, irrespective of nationality. It must be hard to have a love affair over there! Maybe that’s a good thing. Anyway, eventually he gave us two rooms on the rooftop terrace, we took a shower and headed out for lunch.
With only an afternoon to spare, we followed a walking tour recommended in the LP, one that took us past more quieter and interesting shops in Marrakesh. It was good to not have to walk around the souq for hours looking at the same stuff we saw in Fes. One
interesting road was the Rue Dar el-Bacha, which we finished the tour with looking at antique shops with stunning jewellery and artwork, and saw an old caravanserai building, now used by woodworkers.
One guy showed us around a caravanserai, and explained how the animals used to sleep all in a specific room, since this was like a hotel in those days. Another worker makes chess pieces using a manual machine with his feet. He carved a pawn piece for each of us in minutes and put it on a string to make a necklace. Absolutely amazing. I felt obliged to give him some money, but only had loose change, which I don’t think he was too happy with. However, it really dawned on my how talented these people are with their hands (and feet).
Everything revolves around the big square, Djeema el-Fna, in Marrakesh. At night time, the place comes alive with storytellers, musicians, transvestite belly dancers, orange juice vendors and stalls selling food. From afar, the smoke lifting up from the barbeque stalls, creates a haze above the square and the lamps on the vendors’ carts light up the place. A phenomenal sight.
Once in the
maze of attractions, you will see pickpocketers, kids sniffing glue, and beggars. A big contrast to the European tourists, who stay in luxurious riads, quite undisturbed by the real problems that this city has. One thing that concerned me the most in Morocco is the treatment of animals, specifically the over use of donkeys and mules. The mules are still used frequently to transport heavy loads, and work long hours in 45 degree temp’s during which I never once saw any water or food being given to them. These faithful animals are whipped and tied up by their back legs together when ‘parked’, and literally worked to death. I don’t understand how people from first world countries can come on holiday and not be bothered by this. One friend said, well they have been doing this for centuries and it’s a part of life, my response is this is 2007 and we are not in the middle ages anymore. This is the age where animals, and the environment are becoming more recognised as things we cannot take for granted. I am sure ‘Allah’ would agree, and as a God fearing nation one would expect a bit of respect and consideration
for the gifts their God has given them.
The stray cat problem, especially in Marrakesh, is actually a catastrophe where kittens are dying from starvation in the street. I tried everyday to give some food to small kittens I found in the street, deserted by their mum, either blind or just too weak to look for food. It was so surprising to see a group of children, while trying to feed a very weak kitten in Essaouira, who were interested in what I was doing. They had never thought of giving the little one some milk or food, and were not disturbed at all that he might die. That is sad when the new generation have no regard for animals.
Back to Marrakesh though, we dined that night at one of the open air food stalls, not on sheep’s brains but on kefta, salad, grilled aubergine and capsicum. I used the leftover bread and made a sandwich for one of the many homeless people, but an old lady snatched it off the table, threw it in her bag and walked off. Quite bizarre.
The following morning, up early to avoid the heat, we had coffee in the
Djeema el-Fna, then walked to the Jardin Majorelle. Not even 10am, the heat had already set in and by the time we arrived at the garden, I was soaking with transpiration. It must have hit 40 degree by that time - unbearable. The Jardin Majorelle is a garden designed by a French painter, owned by Yves Saint Laurent. It was like an oasis from the outside heat, with cacti, palm trees, bamboo and the prevailing colours of bright blue and yellow throughout. A café with European prices inside the gardens was a refreshing stop - even though we didn’t buy anything - we sat underneath the cooling water sprays which periodically squirt cool water into the air.
Back into the suffocating heat, we had to walk back because the taxi drivers outside all wanted to rip us off, and within an hour we were on the road to the much cooler Ourika Valley. As soon as we were about 10 mins drive from Marrakesh the air got cooler, it was like leaving a sauna. The Ourika Valley is 30 kms from Marrakesh, so gets very busy on weekends. The LP guide warned us about getting hassled while we are
there. It was such a refreshing change from Marrakesh though, to see the lush valley with its pretty stone houses and little villages. A stop along the way, for a espresso, we sat in a restaurant alongside the river looking at a very insistent bead seller’s merchandise.
Setti Fatma, a village in the valley was where we stopped for the night. A very good clean room, with the most comfortable bed, and upstairs terrace, recommended by the Guide de Routard. We later found the excellent Bureau des Guides, and organised a day trip for the following day.
That night we went out for dinner, unfortunately too late again, and didn’t have much choice, so had soup - Harira, which wasn’t very good. The restaurants are in a stunning setting though, on both sides of the valley overlooking the river. After dinner we went to a different restaurant for a mint tea, paid a fortune for it, but sat listening to the traditional Gnaoua music for free.
The following morning we were set out to leave for our day walk at 8am. Our guide explained that we will see two waterfalls along the way, the first and the
fifth.
Crossing the river, then climbing up through lush green bush, we passed some mountain people walking with their goats, and also we saw heaps of wild Barbary apes. The guide explained these apes are scared of people because they get stones thrown at them and often are harassed.
The 5th waterfall - without a name - was quite small but really nice because there were no people around. I was dying for a swim, and attempted it, but the water was ice cold so chickened out. Later on in the morning we walked to a Berber village not far from Setti Fatma. It was quite hectic walking up the hill with a pack and the heat of the morning, but once closer to the village the air cooled and it looked like it might rain. The scenery was stunning mountain tops and with the village in the distance. Our guide was very good, and explained a lot of things to us about the way of life there. The village was filled with friendly and curious kids, who were pretty keen to have their photos taken. We also got to meet the resident ‘mad cow’ who is said to
have a bit of a temper.
The first village was pretty clean, and well kept. There has been some donations here to help build a school, from the French government, which is good to see. It also seemed to be a self sufficient food wise, the lush valley providing good soil for crops. After lunch, we passed the second village, which was not so well kept and a bit scruffy. Stunning scenery again on the way down.
The walk was great, and I was so glad to eventually do some sort of walk in Morocco. The country is just filled with hiking opportunities, but we were just in the wrong season for it, perhaps next time.
That afternoon after the walk, enjoying an espresso in one of the valley restaurants, an incident with the rental car occurred. A guy reversed into our parked car. We all rushed to see the damage, which wasn’t that bad, but the details of sorting this out - especially since it’s a rental car - proved to be complicated.
A highly incompetent policeman got involved but had no idea what to do in this situation. Luckily he left the scene, then
it was up to the guy who crashed into us and the rental car company to decide what to do. The negotiating started … all charged to Kamel’s French mobile phone account … Eventually it was decided that we will drive the car to a garage to get it fixed, and the culprit driver will pay for the damage. No insurance claim, all under the table - Moroccan style!!
That night we drove back through Marrakesh on our way to the east coast. We were to leave Kamel and Jade in Safi the next morning. Passing through Marrakesh was another nightmare. Kamel was asking for help from passing taxi drivers at every traffic light stop. Driving along the busy highway we saw a horse running wild in the streets! It had obviously escaped its master and was in the middle of all these cars. Looking a bit skinny and unhealthy (like most animals in Morocco), I really wondered how on earth this poor animal is going to survive.
We arrived late in Safi, and had not much choice for accommodation so we ended up in the most disgusting hotel throughout the trip. I am so surprised we didn’t
get bitten by bedbugs that night.
A quick goodbye to our friends the next morning, and we were off on the bus to cool Essaouira. Now to end a very hot trip in Essaouira was perfect. The sea breeze, white washed buildings, interesting surrounding ramparts, and the laid back atmosphere were just what we needed. We stayed in a stunningly located hotel called Smara, where we had breakfast on the rooftop terrace overlooking the deep blue sea every morning. Lunch time we ate freshly grilled sardines with salad and bread sitting on the sea walls breathing in fresh air. Dinner at a very good restaurant was Beef and Prune tajine with almonds, and the best Harira in Morocco. The place was so chilled, I even enjoyed the medinas shopping around for argan oil and last minute gifts. The two days were the most relaxing and enjoyable (for me) on the whole trip, and the next thing we knew it we were back in Europe.
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Kurt Hollis
non-member comment
Hi from NZ
Hi Caroline, Ashok at CYF gave me your blog address. Your photo's are great, and it looks like you're having an awesome trip. I hope all is well. Cheers Kurt