Southern Morocco in spring - Out of the Sahara Mountains, markets, and a transport strike

---

Our fourth day in Morocco starts at 5:45 with our alarm sounding sharply. We drag ourselves out of bed and in to the cool Saharan morning air in order to find a good spot to watch the sunrise. On a decent size dune we make it just in time to see the sun break the horizon and send the desert through a cascade of colours. Erg Chigaga really is at its best at this time of day. The overnight breeze has swept away any footprints from the day before and it feels like we’re the only people for a thousand miles… an idyllic moment that is suddenly shattered by a pair of noisy little French kids making motorbike noises as their parents drag them up onto a nearby dune. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.

After breakfast we jump back into the Landcruiser and Habib sets off. We start by skirting the edge of the dunes before heading back out into the hamada (stony desert). Habib explains that the road that we’re now following (well, not really road - section of desert that has been cleared of the really big rocks) is part of the old Paris to Dakar rally route. The landscape is very rugged but there are the odd pockets of vegetation where we spot herds of goats, dromedaries, or donkeys along with shepherds who wave as we pass.

After another 40 minutes the hamada comes to an end as we pass through a small village built on an oasis. On the southern side of the village the landscape changes into a flat, hard packed dirt plane that stretches out in front of us to as far as we can see.

Out somewhere towards the middle we catch up to Ali and both cars pull over for a break (no need to pull off the road out here). We start fooling around taking some photos when we spot something moving across the cracked mud not too far away. Going over to investigate we find a cobra heading straight for us! Yikes!

Obviously unimpressed with our presence the snake is standing upright in a vertical S shape with its neck puffed out. As Lachlan lines it up for a photo it tracks his movement side to side - poised, but about five metres too far away for even an ambitious strike. It’s nonetheless completely un-nerving and we back up to give the angry creature some space.

As we do, Ali and Habib jump into the 4WDs and take turns…running it over! Once the snake is dead, Ali explains that apparently a bite from this type of cobra requires anti venom within three hours or the bite will be fatal. While we, in our 4WD, could make it to a hospital in that time it would be nigh on impossible for one of the local school kids or shepherds with only a donkey for transport.

With the excitement over we pile back into the 4WD and continue on. At the back end of the plane, the landscape switches back into hamada and things stay that way for a couple of hours.

Now we really do feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere.

We haven’t seen another 4WD for at least an hour and there are hardly any locals about either. The track we’re travelling on is running parallel with a dry creek, beyond which there is a tall, stony mountain range. The creek bed has sporadic bunches of grass, the odd shrub and taller tree, but out of the creek the only feature of vegetation are stunted acacia trees. It’s very arid, unforgiving, country.

But just as we’re really enjoying the isolation of it all we make it back onto the bitumen about two kilometres south of the small town of Forum Zguid. The 110 km journey from Erg Chigaga has taken us just short of five hours so we’re please to arrive in town just in time for lunch!

At a local riad we enjoy another fine Moroccan meal of kebabs, bread, rice and salad before we hit the road again winding our way north back in the general direction of Ouarzazate. A few hours after lunch we’re surrounded again by proper mountains as we head for Morocco’s most famous Ksar, the UNESCO listed Ait Benhaddou.

As we get close Habib pulls into a car park positioned high above the river below and we jump out to take in the view. Across the river, built into the side of a domed outcrop of rock, the fortified, clay rendered, mud brick village of Ait Benhaddou is lit up by the afternoon sunshine. Date palms fill the gaps between the guard towers and simple homes and all the buildings are a fantastic golden brown. Cool…

We jump back into the car and head across the river, making the most of our 4WD’s capabilities off road (or “off piste” as our guidebook keeps amusingly referring to it as) and around the bend on the other side Habib pulls up directly under the Ksar. Oualid then guides us through the windy streets and up to the top of Ait Benhaddou to admire the view of the river, fields, mud houses and surrounding mountains. It is awesome.

We are heading back down when Ariana gets a sudden uneasy feeling in her tummy. We ask Oualid where the toilets are but he says there aren’t any handy but the hotel isn’t far from here. But Ariana can’t wait. Within a minute, Oualid somehow finds someone who can help and instructs Ariana to follow an old man to a ‘real Berber toilet’.

Outside one of the traditional mud houses Ariana is met by a woman who leads the way under an entrance way, through a locked wooden door and into an animal pen filled with a couple of goats, a sheep, a donkey and some chickens. There is no roof and the floor is covered in straw. Just as Ariana is thinking she has been transported back in time to a ‘there was no room at the inn’ situation, anther door is opened to her left and she is ushered into a dark room with a hole in the ground and tub of water with a ladle for flushing.

Feeling much better, Ariana is pleased to get back to find Lachlan, Oualid and Habib who have been amusing themselves in a nearby antique store. Lachlan can’t understand why Ariana is so excited and even more confused as to why she is already referring to her real Berber toilet trip as ‘a highlight of our holiday in Morocco’…

We wake early the next day and decide to make the most of the time before breakfast by taking a walk around the Riad for some early morning photography. We are delighted to discover a fabulous looking Kasbah on the hill across the river and on our walk we pass quite a few locals heading towards Ait Benhaddou. By now, thanks to Habib and Oualid’s teaching, we have our Arabic greetings down pat and our attempts are met with friendly replies.

The boys meet us after breakfast and set about telling us about a ‘transport strike’ that has erupted in Morocco over the past day or two resulting in fuel shortages around the country and limited bus/taxi transport for at least the next few days. They proceed to explain that the industrial action is in protest of some tougher regulations being introduced by the Government in the interest of transport safety. Apparently most people in the country are ‘waiting it out’ in the hope that the Government will back down on some of their law changes and the fuel starts to flow again soon - ensha’llaah (God willing).

As we set off, the effects of the strike are almost immediately apparent- taxis are parked up with nowhere to go, trucks are almost non-existent and almost all of the petrol stations have run dry. The boys are most concerned as they have a few more days driving booked in after our trip and are worried that there won’t be enough fuel in the rural areas to keep them going. We, on the other hand are nervous about making it back to Marrakech tomorrow and more importantly, back to the airport in a few days time. But Oualid confidently reassures us that Government buses are still running and by the day we fly out taxis should be back to normal. Let’s hope so!

Out the other side of Ouarzazate we start to spot kids on the side of the road holding out pink garlands - they’ve been collecting rose buds from the bushes and have made them in to necklaces to sell to passing cars. We must be getting closer to the famous Moroccan Valley of Roses! With Body Shop recently introducing a range of Moroccan rose products, Ariana is keen to see and smell the real thing. Habib kindly stops along the side of the road and we realise that the hedges we’ve been passing are actually rose bushes about to bloom. We can only imagine how full of life the village must be during the May harvesting season…

If yesterday was our ‘desert day’, then today must be ‘Valley day’ as we continue on towards the Valley of a thousand Kasbahs, which turns out to be one of the most beautiful areas we’ve seen in Morocco so far. With a river running through the valley bringing life to crops and a Kasbah dotted every 300m, we sit mesmerised as we wind our way through the valley passing what seem like magical ‘kingdoms’ just as they would have been hundreds of years ago.

After a tasty lunch on a terrace overlooking the valley, Oualid organises a walk for us along the valley floor. Setting off we follow a smiling local lad through the fields, stopping frequently to enjoy the peaceful surroundings as we follow the river downstream. He guides us past the rock face and through a small village so that we can see the clay rendered mud brick structures up close before heading back through the fields. As we wander along we discover that the greenery is full of huge fig, almond and apricot trees, rose bushes, and wheat fulls dotted with poppies. It’s like a small pocket of ‘life’ in among the harsh dry landscape. Just magical!

We enjoy our return drive to Ouarzazate - the last of our tour. Just before we get dropped to the hotel, Oualid takes us to the bus station where we buy our bus tickets to Marrakech. However while at the CTM office we realise that we won’t meet the connection to Essouaria and with the transport strike our plan B of going with a private bus company or plan C to catch a grand taxi are also both wiped out.

After a sad farewell to the boys (we’ve grown quite close over the four days together and know the experience wouldn’t have been as enjoyable or as memorable had we had any other guide or driver) we head in to the same hotel where our journey started when the realisation of our predicament begins to set in.

We have a night booked in Essaouira for tomorrow and have no way of getting there. We don’t speak Arabic or French and don’t have a clear picture of what options might be available to us. Eventually we concede that the only safe solution is to cut our losses, cancel our Essaouira accommodation (which was to be in a beautiful riad with a whitewashed roof top terrace) and try to re-book a hotel in Marrakech. After a frantic explanation to the reception staff and a few impossible to understand phone calls, our situation seems even more uncertain.

We have managed to cancel the night in Essaouria (we think) but can’t book a second night in our pre-booked Marrakech riad. The internet in the reception area is down and we aren’t sure how to go about calling up yet more hotels only to find them unable to speak English. We need help. So, who you gonna call? Not ghost busters, but Allal from Desert Dream of course! Within 20 minutes he is at our hotel sitting with us by the pool making phone calls to the ‘budget hotel’ options in our Lonely Planet. Soon enough we have a night booked at a cheap riad within walking distance of the bus station. All we can do to thank him (as he meets with a client by the pool over a few drinks) is to buy him a thank you beer while we have some dinner in the dining room next door.

We wake early so as not to miss the bus and despite arriving 30 minutes ahead of schedule for our bus journey it takes us 25 minutes to hand our luggage over for check in. The bus station seems to have this fabulous method of queuing that involves standing in a large group very close to the desk vying for the girl behind the counter’s attention. We become more and more nervous about missing our bus but eventually manage to elbow our way to the front, pay for our bags to be checked in and board the bus for the long journey back to Marrakech.

We arrive in the heat of the midday sun and set off on a 40 minute walk through the streets. With the aid of our guidebook map (having established that the CTM bus station is not where it is marked) and the help of a few obliging locals we eventually arrive at our riad.

As we happen to be staying in the Ville Nouvelle (new part of town), we decide to take a recommendation for lunch from the Lonely Planet and after a short walk we find our way to a modern rooftop terrace bar/restaurant to order our first beers all holiday and a delicious baked fish lunch. As we sit among the trendy locals and city breaking Europeans, we relax soaking in that great feeling you only get when on holidays knowing you could do nothing for the rest of the day and it wouldn’t matter.

But after a few hours, our curiosity gets the better of us and we set off to find out what else Marrakech has to offer (we’re not really the sort of ‘sit still for too long’ type).

We walk to the old town wall and despite the heat, decide to push on a bit further to Djemma el-Fna, Marrakech’s famous square. Unlike our visit on our first day, we have time to explore the markets, but not before stopping at one of the dozens of freshly made orange juice stalls to have our now empty water bottle filled up with fresh juice by the vendor.

We happily wile away the afternoon wandering around the endless markets marvelling at the huge array of fabulous carpets, pottery, crafts and wonderful spices. The setting feels more authentic than the grand bizarre in Istanbul and the narrow laneways and ornate doorways capture our attention and imagination.

As the sun begins to set, we make our way out of the market area to the square. We’re astonished to find it completely transformed! Rows of white roofed stalls have been erected and lit up like a circus selling a tempting array of traditional foods for tourists and locals alike. The square is full of people and as we wander between the rows where the touts do their best to charm us in to choosing their stall with promises of the best meal in ‘air-conditioned’ comfort. Ariana spots a soup stall, full of locals, and at 3 Dinars a bowl (30 pence) it makes dinner easy. We’re truly taken by this city and its people and now feeling full we happily set off back to our modest riad for a good night’s sleep.

Tuesday is a late start for us (which in our terms means getting up at 8:00am) but we don’t mind as it’s our last day in Morocco and we’re already in the city. After breakfast and some exploring over this side of the city we decide to find a taxi (some have begun running again) to take us to our riad over in the Medina where we’re staying tonight.

After being offered twice the actual cost to get to the square, we decline and continue down the road trying in vain to spot and flag down other taxis heading our way. But none come and once we reach the wall we give up on the taxies and decide that we’ve made it this far, we can make it the rest of the way ourselves. Two kilometres later, off Djemma el-Fna, through a market street and down a narrow laneway we reach the door of our riad. After a few knocks the door is opened by a smiling Moroccan who ushers us through the cool entrance way (watch your head) and into a beautiful courtyard. It is as if we have walked through the wardrobe and in to Narnia.

In stark contrast to the dusty, bustling, hot streets of Marrakech, this courtyard is, apart from the sweet sounds of the birds, peacefully quiet, filled with comfortable cushion covered chairs and dotted between orange trees covered in fruit. It feels like paradise. While we sit quietly soaking up the atmosphere, we can see some girls busying about cleaning one of the rooms, which, as it turns out, is ours! Walking inside, we both agree it must be the nicest (and one of the best value) rooms we have ever stayed in. Spotlessly clean, traditionally decorated, complete with a luxurious bathroom and the sweet scent of burning incense in the living area it’s absolutely lovely.

After checking in Ariana’s priority is to find a place for a swim - she’s read that we should be able to buy lunch and have a swim at some of the hotels not far from the medina. We find one not too far down the road but it could possibly be dodgiest hotel we have ever seen. The pool is something out of the 1950s, and our lunch is our worst Moroccan food experience (it was even at times mouldy). To top it off the security guard who passes occasionally is wearing a (Australian) Victoria Police uniform. We aren’t impressed but we’ve made it this far and paid for our lunch so we might as well have a swim.

At dusk, back in the square, we’re keen to reignite our newfound love for Moroccan cuisine and can’t think of anywhere better to do so than at one of the fabulous local food stalls that have miraculously opened up again. Taking a seat at booth number one, our feast begins with bread, spicy dip, soup, olives and two different types of couscous all served by a smiley lad who we agree deserves a decent tip.

After our meal, we spot a stall nearby selling mint tea and decide that it’s the perfect way to wash down our dinner. And it is! Next stop on our progressive dinner- something sweet. We find a stall, also mainly frequented by locals, selling something warm out of a boiling copper urn. We must try it. Taking a seat behind the vendor, who out of the goodness of his heart seems to be giving as many cups away to the beggars as he is selling to patrons, and order two glasses. The first sip burns our throats and the taste seems to be a combination of ginger, cinnamon…and something sweet. It’s really tasty! A Moroccan family sit next to us and make light conversation with us while we sip our hot drinks. We’re having so much fun, we don’t want the night to end so we take a final lap around the crowds that have begun to gather around story tellers, performers and henna tattooists. It is absolutely fascinating, and would be even better if only we could understand Arabic.

So in the light of the warm glow of the vendors, we say our final farewell to Djemma el-Fna, Marrakech and Morocco - for tomorrow we’re off early.

Luckily our riad organises a private airport transfer for us, and so early on Wednesday morning we’re back where it all began at Marrakech airport. Morocco always seemed like a great place to go, but we never thought we’d make it. Now that we’ve been we’re wondering when we’ll be back - ensha’llaah.

---

Photos

Marrakech
Palms, mosque, blue sky... you get the picture.

Acacia Tree
On the outskirts of Erg Chigaga

Hamada
In the middle of nowhere

Ait Benhaddou
Morocco's most famous Ksar

Ait Benhaddou
The view south from the top in the late afternoon

Dadres Gorge
At the top end of the gorge the road got a little windy...

Kasbah
There was many, but not quite one thousand...

Berber Village
Valley of a thousand Kashbahs

Mountains
On the way back the boys couldn't resist one last piece of off-roading...

Marrakech spices
All the good stuff (more expensive than Istanbul though...)

Jardin Majorelle
Marrakech

Jardin Majorelle
A good way to start the day in the new town of Marrakech was strolling through the stylish gardens.

Narnia Riad
Marrakech

Mint Tea
Djemma el-Fna

Escargot
Djemma el-Fna