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Published: November 14th 2023
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Medina's and souks are all very atmospheric, but it was time to leave the winding alleys behind us and enter the wide open spaces. The mountains and the plains, but mostly the mountains. With its little towns and villages, its sheep herders and friendly donkeys, where it isn't the sound of traders you hear, but of the wind, and goats. The call of a donkey echoing through the valley, a dog barking in the night, and birds twittering in the mornings. Where the nights can be freezing, but the hearth in the kitchen offers warmth and comfort. Thick blankets ward of the cold in the bedroom. The people laugh and smile, worn faces from the harsh conditions, but full of lines of mirth and friendliness. This is a different Morocco.
Our first stop was Gite de la Gorge, a family homestay in a tiny Berber (or Amazigh, as they call themselves) village of five houses. It was set up by Jean Pierre, a French vineyard owner with a passion for mountains. He arrived one day in the village 40 odd years ago, fell in love with the family he stayed with, and has returned ever since. He has hiked the
length and breadth of Morocco with his friend, Said, the owner of the homestay. When you see them together, you know they are close. Jean Pierre is part of the family, part of the village. Even if he only comes a few times a year. Whenever there is less to do in the vineyard, he comes over and stays with Said and his family. Said, according to Jean Pierre, is the best mountain guide in Morocco. I believe him. But Said has a family, and they are equally wonderful. I can well understand why Jean Pierre ended up returning and returning, and becoming part of the fixture.
Jean Pierre happened to be around when we arrived, having a week or two off from the toil and sweat that entails the wine making business. Being French and owning a vineyard, he had his own stash of wine with him, in plastic water bottles. And his own aperitif too. The first thing he did when we arrived was offer us his aperitif! Now that was something I hadn't expected in the Moroccan mountains! We hadn't even settled in yet and we were having aperitifs, and good wine, together with tasty taghine
Fes to Boulmane
A few kilometres before Boulmane we got off to get to our homestay from Said's wife Fatima. Our room was simple, but cosy, the kitchen always warm and welcoming, the meals delicious, the company amazing, the scenery breathtaking. Said and his family don't just live off the homestay, as all families in the tiny village, they were goat herders as well. And in the evening the goats and sheep slept right behind our house, the growns up in an outside pen, the little ones inside. I'm not sure who had the better views from their room, us or the goats.
While we stayed there, we walked down into the plains to a slightly bigger village, to visit the sheep market, and do some shopping at the local souq. Said, is not only the best guide in Morocco, he is also the best haggler. He was known at the market! If he bargained, you knew you wouldn't get it any better anywhere else. Jenni got herself a small rug. But we didn't come for shopping, that was just a by-product. We came for the nature, and nature we saw. We hiked through the, so called Red Valley, which is red indeed, but also yellow and green and ochre. It was a bit of
Fes to Boulmane
We were not alone a cold and grey day, but it didn't matter. The scenery was beautiful, and Said a fantastic guide as promised by Jean Pierre. And finally we strolled to Boulemane, from where we continued our trip. First to Midelt, for a one night pit-stop, because our destination was not Midelt, but the Dades Valley. Here we stayed in another lovely family hotel, with ridiculously cheap rates. I'm starting to believe that Morocco has the best deals for accommodation in the world.
Anyway, back to the trip. Not far from our hotel was Monkey Paw gorge, a narrow gorge with interesting rock formations. If you are thin, you can squeeze yourself through for about an hour, after that you need to starve yourself to get much further, or climb straight up the rocks. It's possible on flip-flops, my preferred shoes for any hike, but to be honest I wouldn't recommend it. I just love my flip-flops, and can't be bothered with my hiking shoes, unless it's too cold, or too muddy. Because flip-flops, as we all know, suck in mud (literally)! Along the way, Jenni helped an old lady strip the leaves of bamboo. I watched in my flip-flops. And took
Fes to Boulmane
Donkey waiting for a ride a picture. The lady found it very amusing. She giggled a lot. And offered us tea. But we declined, because we had a gorge to explore.
Dades Valley is picture perfect, I'm sure there are many Instagram posts on it. It has crumbling citadels, mud bricked villages, red mountains and green valleys, narrow canyons with hairpin bends, a plethora of hotels and restaurants, and loads of tourist buses and cars that simply drive through the valley, stopping every now and again at the same scenic photo spot. They mostly do this in the late afternoon when the setting sun colours the surrounding valley in surreal red and green tones, making the landscape glow.
By now you might be wondering when we slouched. I've covered the hiking and the wandering, and a little of the climbing, but there hasn't been a slouch in sight! Patience my friends. The slouching is left, like all good things, till the end. First we left for Taliouine to buy some safran. Because Taliouine is in the centre of the safran region of Morocco. And here we discovered there is also such a thing as a bad hotel in the country. It wouldn't have
Around Boulmane
On our way to our homestay had to be bad, the room was okay for the price, but they pushed us for a dinner and breakfast deal, which was overpriced. Normally I wouldn't have fallen for it, but as always, we were tired from a long day of travelling, and that's when you make mistakes. The cunning see your exhaustion and strike at that moment. And so it happened, I had paid before I realised what I was doing. Even if the dinner and the breakfast had been amazing, it woudn't have been worth it. But the dinner and breakfast were by far the worst we have had in this country, making it even harder to swallow.
However, it's no use being annoyed about such a thing for too long, if you do, you are bound to miss all the beauty that follows. So, we shrugged and moved on. Outside on the streets, the people were as friendly and welcoming as ever. And if we had had time, we would have stayed longer (but in another hotel), because the area is beautiful. The safran bought, we went on to Taroudant. And we rested!
In Taroudant we finally slouched, and are currently still slouching. We
are staying in another fantastic place, with pool! Taroudant is a great place for slouching. It has no grand sights, yet is pretty, it is calm and off the tourist trail, it has a intact mud brick wall, a tiny souq, a great square for people watching and locals who do nothing but smile, and greet you, as if they have met a long lost friend.
We shall slouch here a bit longer, another meal on the main square and an evening full of interesting characters passing by our gazing eyes. Life is good.
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Andrea
Slouching!
How fun. That is my kind of travel. I absolutely loved Morocco and it looks like you got a good dose of the countryside. Great blog as usual and I enjoyed the pictures and of course the vineyard story.