Marrakesh and back to Casablanca

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So there we were, out in the midst of nowhere, in the desert. Desert isn’t always a series of harsh red dunes, it is sometimes grey stones for miles, or dun coloured nothing. What is amazing is that we often saw goatherds or shepherds way out there in the nothing, with their charges, along with unemployed dogs. These were sad. Dogs no longer able to scare away the wolves and protect the lambs and kids are simply abandoned as the nomads move on. They stand, pathetically, at the edge of the road and survive on handouts provided by passers by. Oh, so sad.

However, we were not unemployed, and we certainly were not hungry. There was always plenty of food, and most of it pretty good. And for those who ask – yes we could get beer and wine, most of the time, and we were carrying spirits – just in case.

So after our adventures with the sunset and the camels, we drove on. First stop was simply extraordinary. This was a factory processing fossils – great slabs of marble with incredible fossils embedded in it. Fantastic stuff. They carve it up and make gorgeous coffee tables (would look great in my sitting room), vanity units for bathrooms, pillars, fountains and just about anything else you can think of.

Then onwards, for miles until we got to the Todra Gorge which is comparable to the Grand Canyon in the US. This was spectacular, amazing, and, as usual, clogged up with plastic bags and crap. This was a detour, and well worth while; the gorge is a huge but narrow cleft in an enormous mountain range.

Then we got to the Dades area, where there were a number of oases, with figs, dates and olives, many more of the adobe houses, shops with sides of meat hanging outside, stalls with plates and ceramics, tangines cooking over charcoal braziers, tiny convenience stores selling water, very few agricultural machines, but goats, donkeys and people all busily carrying sometimes enormous loads of fodder.

A surprise stop was at a very new looking Kasbah, the home of an imam. He is the local holy man who does all the things the local vicar used to do for us – family ceremonies, helping those in trouble, taking services and generally being a community leader. We were taken inside a big sitting area and were given an insight into the life of an imam, along with mint tea and delicious almonds. Outside his brother was making bricks out of mud, dung and straw and building a tower on the corner of his Kasbah.

Our guide spun a fantastic story about how he got to know this imam and how he came to be included in the tour. My take on it is that the story is probably based on fact, but highly exaggerated. It went along the lines of a tour he was leading being trapped by the ever-present and dangerous flash flood. It was approaching night time, and the coach was forced to turn back with no ability to reach the previous evening’s hotel. As darkness fell, the coach reached this village and upon questioning, the imam came out to help. It transpired that the coachload of people were brought into the very room that we were in.

Off the imam went to conduct evening prayers and in doing so, he roused the village and within a very short time, blankets, tangines and pots of water for tea arrived and the guests were welcomed and looked after.

This was all ok, but it all got a bit fanciful when he told us that some years later that two of the people who had been on that trip, returned, independently, and coincidently were travelling again together on the same journey (??). They fell in love, and in the blink of an eye decided they wanted to get married in the village where they had stayed those years ago. Well of course all the villagers came to the party again. This time the feast was more elaborate, and the bride and groom were appropriately dressed by the villagers and the ceremony was conducted – in the very room! Well. It is a good story huh?

That night we drove into Ouarzazate – the movie capital of Morocco, and the home of the nicest hotel we stayed in, and Frank’s birthday party and delicious cake after cocktails on the terrace.

Ever onwards on the route of 1000 Kasbahs and over a very scary high pass (Tizi n’ Tichka Pass) with switchbacks, razor back hills and revelations about buses falling off the side. I had to move to an internal seat, it was too much for me. Once we got to the lowlands, it was nice being amongst green trees and grass again. But it was onwards to Marrakesh.

This was exactly what we expected! Tourist hassle and bustle as we entered the Djemaa El Fna Square we have all seen on travelogues, Jamie Oliver, Peta Mathias and many other shows. It was full of noise, dirt and people, with all the promised snake charmers, bands, horrible looking foodstalls covered with flies and boiled sheep heads, fruit, vegetables, meat, sweetmeats, watermen, dancers and story tellers.

Dinner was in the square in a lovely restaurant. This was a bit classier than in Fes, and the bellydancer was an extraordinary acrobat – albeit with big nockers (as spelled by our guide). The food and entertainment was very good, and after a long day, it was good to go back to our hotel and to bed.

The morning took us back close to the Square as we skirted the souks while being shown the highlights of the town. The Palais de la Bahia, the vizer’s palace, was pretty good, but we were thoroughly hosed off by wasting nearly two hours while we were heckled and cajoled in an ‘herbalist’ store to buy a wide range of products, all with extravagant and unsourced claims. However, none were as amazing as the serious comment earlier on the tour that camel urine is a sure cure for liver cancer. Hmmmn.

It was nice having the half day to ourselves in Marrakesh; some sunned themselves by the pool, others read or slept. It was the first time we had a chance to catch up on washing and emails for a week. But of course, some of us had to go shopping. Never miss a shop; just in case.

So our final day was a drive back to Casablanca. Davie and I were heading off at midnight on the Marrakesh Express in reverse i.e. we were heading north to Tangier. However we had time to have dinner at Rick’s, which was far better than we had anticipated in a very lovely setting. We then went back to the Sheraton and showered in preparation for our train journey.

What a surprise, there was a traditional wedding in train in the hotel. A wonderful tall black moor man in traditional uniform managed the door, and we watched extravagantly clad guests arriving from 10 pm onward. Pip and Vicki watched until the bride arrived at midnight, but we were long gone by then.

The train trip was pretty hairy with our lack of any language apart from NZ English smattered with a few words in French and German. Somehow, with kind people some clever miming, and clear advanced age, we managed to board the train and make our way to Tangier, and then back to Spain.

Hey Morocco, that was great – we won’t be back, but hey, it was fun and we learned a lot. Our guide said it was a journey of learning and discovery. It was. We have a far deeper understanding of the Moslem way of life for sure.

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Photos

Tangines ready for lunch
This is a very common roadside sight.

Coffee table made with fossils
See the fossils both on the side of the table and also in the body of the table.

Typical housing
Adobe homes.

Dave with candle dancer
She was pretty amazing, sat on ground and put foot to mouth!

Shoe shopping in Marrakesh
Vicki and Pip do what girls do in shoe shops....