Morocco - Part 3 - South to North - Mergouza to Tangier

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Making an early exit from Mergouza to avoid the Bonbon posse who greeted us on arrival, we bumped out over the rough roads and north towards Meski, our next destination. We drove through the lush Ziz Valley with its extensive palmeries and oasis and arrived at Meski to stay at the Source Bleu, a natural spring named after the ultra blue shade of the water. Parked at the source, we were immediately initiated into the carpet selling world by the stall holders who gathered at this tourist spot. Given a plastic outdoor carpet to “try out” during our stay there (forcibly laid out at the Van door on arrival despite our protestations), we were eventually pestered into sitting down for a spot of haggling with the carpet owner. Considering ourselves old-hands now at this bargaining lark, we passed a highly enjoyable afternoon with the hard discussions commencing an hour or so later after the customary chitchat and Moroccan whiskey. Trying a new tactic, we started at the price we wanted to pay, and then when the seller tried to talk it up, we went lower than we had originally offered. It seemed to work much to ours and the seller’s amusement and we finally agreed on our starting price plus a couple of beers.

The carpet negotiations had been enhanced by a young lad who gradually ingratiated himself into the discussions. Having finished with the carpet seller, we then charged the young lad with making us a palm leaf woven campervan rather than the woven camels he kept trying to “give” us. He, however, turned out to be a more persuasive bargainer with skills far beyond his age and when he appeared the next morning with the campervan, his initial estimation of “pay me what you want” turned into a very good deal for him.

We left Meski and headed for Azrou as a stopover on the way to Meknes. Changing our minds at the last moment, we detoured to Ifrane instead and arrived at a rather odd town. Established initially during the French protectorate, Ifrane was more like an Alpine village than a Moroccan town, complete with Swiss-style chalets, European boulevards and a deep layer of snow! Arriving at the gates of the only campsite in town, the gates were unlocked and we were directed into the campsite to be the only campers there. Two feet of snow surrounded the Van on our pitch and we spent a cold nights camping.

We left the next morning and arrived in Meknes trying to locate the campsite. After being flagged down and receiving a friendly warning from a Policeman after making an illegal left turn, he gave us directions to the campsite which wasn’t very far away. Following his instructions we passed through the medina walls but could go no further. A series of low archways between us and the campsite meant that we would have to try and find another way to it. Backing out of the Medina, we skirted around it to the other side and found the campsite with a high enough gate to pass through.

The walk into Meknes from the campsite passes the private Royal Golf Gardens with a surprising amount of armed guards - perhaps the King was enjoying a round? We headed for the Medina and spent a few hours wandering down often dead-end alleyways trying to find our way out again. By now, it was raining very heavily and the roads and walkways become rivers of mud. This weather marked the rest of our stay in Meknes, so eager to escape the downpour we decided to move onto Fes, stopping first at Volubilis. This was the southern-most outpost of the Roman Empire but with little left to hint at its former glory bar an impressive town gateway, partial basilica and mosaic floors, we headed on for Fes.

On the approach road in, we were flagged down by a motorbike rider wanting to take us to the campsite we were headed for. There are two campsites in Fes who apparently send out motorbike patrols to ensure campers come to their site. He happily waited for us whilst we went to the Supermarket and then became our personal outrider escorting us to the site. The campsite certainly deserved it’s rip-off reputation, being very expensive by Moroccan standards, the fabled constant hot-water non-existent and the sports facilities now serving as a storage yard for building materials - so no game of tennis here. We were persuaded into having a guide to take us into Fes and show us the main sights. However this turned out to be just an opportunity for our guide to take us around the local businesses he had “arrangements” with. Stopping off first at the pottery factory, we were shown how a tajine cooker was made, pottery being hand-painted and tiled fountains being made. We were then left in the shop to look at the variety of goods on offer. Not being in the market for Moroccan pottery, we somehow managed to leave with a large bowl - something else breakable to try and find storage for in the Van.

On the way into the Medina, we reinforced with our guide what we actually wanted to see in Fes and for a while he seemed to be on our agenda. We peeped through mosque entranceways, the mausoleum of Moulay Idriss and visited one of the Medersa’s. However now back on the guide’s agenda, we were taken next to the carpet seller on the pretext of seeing the old merchant’s house it was located in. Wonderful house but the hard sell that we were then subjected to was starting to leave a bad taste in our mouths and us wondering whether we had done the right thing in getting a guide. Unfortunately for us, we were visiting on a Friday when everything shuts down at lunchtime for Friday afternoon prayers so the tour around the Souks was very quiet and did not leave us with a true taste of Fes.

Managing to escape without a carpet, we were then taken to the Tanneries. The acrid smell was indescribable but you soon forget this when looking down at the spectacle going on below. The drawback of viewing the tanneries for free however, was that you have to access them through the rooftops of the leather goods shops. Yet more hard sell but a firm refusal yet again and we were soon on our way. We were starting to notice our guide making phone calls just after we had left one of the “sights” - almost like he was ringing around to notify them of our impending arrival. When our guide then started to take us to the Djellabah seller, we finally called time on him and refused to go. Announcing that this is the end of the ‘monument’ tour (umm, what monuments ?) he said that we did have time to go the traditional herbalist. This actually turned out to be quite interesting but not something that had we been in charge, we would have chosen to do. We finally learn that the bowls of brown glup that we have seen sold at every Souk in Morocco is actually the soap that Moroccans clean themselves with at the Hammam.
An interesting end to a mixed tour around Fes. We both decided that the Souks of Fes are confusing but worth getting lost in yourselves and that a guide was too much trouble.

Having seen enough of Fes, we left to head towards Chefchaouen. Billed as one of the prettiest towns in Morocco with its blue washed buildings, we managed to arrive to heavy rain and just a few hours exploring in the downpour sent us back to the dryness of the Van. Chefchaouen is perched on the side of the Rif Mountains so whilst its location was stunning, the weather killed our desire to explore and after a few more days of rain, we headed further north. Ending up at Martil on the Mediterranean coast of Morocco, we hit sunshine again and managed to catch up on all our accumulated washing.

Heading west again, we wanted to stop at Asilah that we had bypassed on our way down. Back on the Atlantic coast, we parked next to the old Portuguese Medina Walls, under the huge tower with views across the port area. Arriving in brilliant sunshine, this soon changes into two days of heavy rain and wind and we barely ventured away from the Van. We could hear the roar of the Atlantic waves pounding the harbour defences. Our time in Morocco almost at an end, we headed off the next morning for Tangier to get the ferry home.

We arrived in Tangier just before 10am and got our passports and export paperwork for the Van stamped and pulled into the port proper. We were then lined up with two other campervans in a line before a huge mobile x-ray machine passed over the lengths of the Vans - presumably looking for stowaways. All clear, we headed around to the boarding gate area, to find - nothing - the docks were empty, no ferries, the high wind and heavy rains meant that there were no sailings. We finally managed to find out that a ferry was due at 3pm, so we settled for a long wait. The ferry actually did arrive, but at the last moment, they decided to change the boarding gate so everyone scrambled round the new gate. Forty minutes after the ferry had docked, only six cars had driven off and a few passengers disembarked. At 4.40pm, the cars and passengers are still slowly rolling off. The Spanish ferry reps now appeared, obviously eager to get going and things start to move quicker. Except that not all vehicles have finished disembarking. Never mind, they then let the waiting cars start to board. Predictably, chaos follows and we sat and watched with amusement. Yet again we were reversed onto the ferry and chocked into place.

Despite the bad weather, the crossing was not as bad as expected and we arrived at Algeciras harbour at 7pm. We disembarked quickly and once the sniffer dogs had checked us over, we headed out onto Spanish soil again. Due to the long day we headed back to Lidl’s carpark, where we had started out from 2 months ago and ended up passing the evening with a UK couple who were heading to Morocco the next morning. We passed on our maps, advice and exchanged our remaining dirhams with them and spent a nice evening drawing the Moroccan part of our trip to a close. Next stop Portugal.

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Comments

[mamdouh]

morocco is life
Morocco is a beautiful and charming in every sense of the word meaning