Morocco

Thursday 25th August:

Like nearly every trip away we have ever been on, we set off early from home to Gatwick Airport. This time it was for a flight at 6.25am. Approximately four hours in duration, there were a few opportunistic naps to be had on the flight over.

We arrived at Marrakesh Airport where we observed something quite odd – a cat in the terminal, sitting by a baggage carousel. To prove that this wasn’t some hallucination due to sleep deprivation, Brendan had to get photographic evidence.

Onwards we went out of the terminal, to be collected by our Busabout-organised transfer. Both of us had a dwindling number of days of annual leave left, and so we were booked onto the Morocco Express five day tour. Although we weren’t expecting to see them so early, we spotted our first camels as we approached our hotel.

We checked into the accommodation at Hotel El Andalous – bizarrely you had to walk through a metal detector to get in the front door. The style and decor of the hotel is a little hard to describe. Back in the heydays of the 1990s it was probably considered a high-end luxury hotel but in 2016, it mostly looked dated. Still, the rooms were comfortable and the air conditioning worked well so that was a definite plus!

The local currency is the Moroccan Dirham (or as Roslyn called it when she couldn’t remember, “kahunas”). Like a lot of Europe, in Morocco the prices of things like taxis need to be negotiated and agreed to before getting in. When we visited, the equation was roughly £1 = 12 dirham. This meant that when trying to bargain with a taxi driver we were negotiating over a measly few pounds, although to them the value is probably so much more. We got into an archaic taxi and headed off to the Jardin Marjorelle, which came highly recommended by Roslyn’s colleagues. As a side note, Brendan noticed that a significant majority of Moroccan taxis are 1970s Mercedes Benzes. Apparently the number of them in use across Morocco stretches into the tens of thousands and nearly all of the ones we saw looked, from the outside at least, rough.

Jardin Marjorelle is a relatively small garden at only two acres. The garden was founded by Jacques Marjorelle and first opened to the public in 1947 but following his death in 1962, fell into disrepair. In 1980, French fashion icons Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé saved the garden, and it has continued to flourish ever since. The bold shade of blue present around the garden is referred to as Marjorelle blue.

The temperature today reached a maximum of 35°C in the late afternoon, and so on our return to the hotel a refreshing dip in the pool was in order. Later we were introduced to our guide, Aissa, and other travelling companions.

The next morning, Friday, we set off towards the desert. Approximately seven hours drive away from Marrakesh, we drove across the amazing High Atlas mountain range. While the roads were rugged, they were actually surprisingly better than we expected. The traditional Berber villages scattered through the mountains are quite extraordinary. We stopped on several occasions for rests and to take in the views. On one stop, we were introduced to Moroccan mint tea (a staple in their diet), where the highlight was a puppy tied up on the hill near a small cave.

At nearly every lookout stop there was a man with a stall of souvenirs, and they were all trying to convince us to buy a rock of artificially coloured quartz. The bright, fake colours of the minerals must be popular with the tourists, because despite any other more tasteful wares on offer, it was always the stones they came up and presented to us first. At one stop overlooking a vast rocky gorge, a group of men appeared (we have no idea where they came from given how remote we were) selling Moroccan dates and letting you hold a lizard for a fee.

We stopped in Ouarzazate for lunch, which is a famed filming location home to several studios, and is also referred to as the gateway to the Sahara Desert. Here we experienced our first chicken tajine, a delicious African dish named after the conical terracotta pot that it’s cooked in.

After lunch it was back on the road as we headed further towards the desert. We stopped off briefly at a store where we were able to purchase head scarves, recommended for protection from the sun and sand in the desert. Brendan was convinced that the sales man looked like a Moroccan Kanye West. Onwards we continued until we finally reached the village of Zagora. Here was our last chance to purchase drinking water (and anything else for that matter) before we stayed at a traditional Berber camp overnight.

A short distance out of town, we were transferred from the bus onto camels for the trek into the Sahara Desert to the Berber camp. Although the camels were tied together in groups of four, Brendan’s camel at the end of the group, was more of a leader than a follower and seemed to be always trying to go past. He therefore named it Yallah, meaning “let’s go” in Moroccan Arabic, but later decided that Turbo was a better name, in case the camel actually understood the Moroccan Arabic language. Roslyn named hers Alice, after the children’s nursery rhyme, even though we later found out that all the camels were male.

Riding off into the Sahara Desert as the glowing sunset further highlighted the rich red shades, was quite an amazing experience. After 45 minutes on the camels though, we were pleased to dismount. Our legs having been spread so far apart on either side of their wide bodies meant we were both a bit uncomfortable. Roslyn also didn’t like that Yallah/Turbo kept trying to go past her and Alice, meaning that his head was right beside her (although by the end she’d accepted that he had no intention of eating her)

The Berber camp was set at the foothills of some impressive desert sand dunes and was actually far better equipped than we were expecting. The tents were a semi-permanent structure with lighting, floors and actual beds. In another large tent were plumbed toilets and showers. We were fed another tajine, and then out by the fire the Berber men played their traditional music.

During the night there were strong winds that kept the canvas on our tent flapping, and the metal framed door rattling loudly against the metal frame of the tent. Eventually the door completely blew open, something that repeated several more times during the night. We ended up using Roslyn’s newly acquired scarf (from Kanye look alike desert fashion emporium) to tie the door closed.

We rose early on Saturday morning, climbing to the top of the sand dunes and watching the sun rise. After the already surreal experience of riding camels off into the sunset the evening before, being witness to the dawn of the new day was even more spectacular. Sadly the blowing sand wreaked havoc on our camera, becoming stuck in the lens (where it remains at this given time). Crunching grains of sand aside, the camera continues to be of service so we can keep you photographically up to date with our travels!

Mounting the camels once again, we returned to the shuttle bus for another long drive day back into Marrakesh. The heat during our time in the desert wasn’t as bad as one would expected, although in saying that we did arrive in the early evening and then departed again mid morning.

Our lunch stop was at the ancient 11th century city of Aït Ben Haddou, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that sits on the former caravan (a group of travellers, not a mobile home) route between the Sahara and Marrakesh. The river divides the city in two, the old town and the new town – apparently there are now only four families that still live in the old town.

We ate lunch in the new town and then crossed the bridge to wandera round the old town. There are several kazbahs, large fortified homes at the corners of the walled city, and most of the buildings of the old town are constructed of mud and straw. Scenes from the movie Gladiator were also filmed here.

Arriving back in Marrakesh in the evening, we strolled in the warm dusk air up to the main square and the souks (markets) in the walled old town. The area was glowing, alive with families and street performers; Aissa told us that night is the main trading time, because it is too hot to be out during the day

We did encounter a number of strange individuals around here, and the opportunity for getting pick pocketed seemed higher so unfortunately we didn't take any photos.

On Sunday morning we departed Marrakesh once again, this time heading west to the coastal city of Essaouira. The wondrous ingredient found in many shampoos and beauty products, Argan oil, comes from the Argan tree that is native of Morocco. On the side of the highway just outside Essaouira, we pulled over where a strange sight presented itself. Herds of goats stood perched on the branches of the Argan trees. Although these particular goats had been herded into the tree by their farmers for the purpose of entertaining tourists, Aissa explained that the goats do naturally climb into the trees to eat the Argan berries.

A short way down the road and we stopped in at an Argan oil cooperative, where we were given a demonstration on how the oil is produced. As with all of these types of things, our tour of the production line was a thinly veiled sales presentation as we then transitioned to the showroom floor. Still, the number of Argan-enhanced products on offer was quite astounding.

In Essaouira, we went for a walk up into the walled old town. Having eaten the same style of tajine on multiple occasions over the last few days, we decided to have something different for lunch - Roslyn a lemon chicken tajine and Brendan a calamari tajine. After lunch we strolled up to the local souk where nearly every possible product was on offer, from meat, fruit and vegetables, to terracotta tajine pots, fake designer goods and marijuana was also indiscreetly offered to us.

We picked up some cotton beach towels, genuine fake Chanel sunglasses and headed down to the beach for the rest of the afternoon. Ironically after spending the last few days in the baking heat, now that we were on the coast near a beach, the weather was much milder. Overcast skies were accompanied by the sea breeze providing a misty haze. It only took one foot in the North Atlantic Ocean and we realized that it wasn’t the kind of temperature for swimming.

Later that evening on our way out to get dinner, we heard loud knocking coming from behind the door of one of the rooms on our floor. Thinking it was someone stuck in the fire stairs, Brendan approached to open it but closer inspection revealed a room number and keys hanging out of the door handle. An attempt to open the door made it immediately apparent that the handle had fallen off on the inside. We freed him, although why he hadn’t just used the phone to call down to reception baffled us. We aren’t sure how long he’d been in there for bashing away at the door.

It was back to Marrakesh for the final time on Monday morning. Here the group split and we farewelled Aissa. The temperature high for Monday was 42°C and we definitely felt it. We wandered up to the main square and the souks again, a walk that took roughly 25 minutes, while asking ourselves whether there was any better way to get there and avoid the heat. Recalling what Aissa had told us, that Moroccan taxis don’t use air conditioning because it is too expensive, (and also bearing in mind that most of the cabs are 1970s Benzes), we realised that we were probably best off continuing by foot.

For the inexperienced, the souks are probably quite daunting. But having visited the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul only a few months prior, the haphazardly built souks of Marrakesh were a breeze to navigate. Breezy and cool they were not though, we trundled through while many of the shop keepers tried to entice us into their stores while laying on the floor. Back to the hotel we returned to cool off in the pool.

One thing we did notice whilst in Marrakesh was the sheer number of taxis. It seems that nearly everybody is a taxi driver but it must be an oversupplied industry. In multiple spots throughout the city motionless taxis sit banked together awaiting a fare, large pieces of cardboard draped over the windscreen acting as a sun shield, with their drivers all also gathered together nearby.

Tuesday morning, sadly, spelled the end of our introductory African adventure and cued our return to the real world. We entered a taxi, sat ready and waiting for us outside the hotel without anyone having even requested it, and headed to the airport.

Given their widespread use and after seeing plenty on the roads in the last few days, it was no real surprise that eventually we would ride in an ancient Mercedes taxi. We can only assume that they are all in a similar poor state to the one we rode in. On this particular vehicle, the steering wheel sat around 180 degrees off being straight and that was just for it to move in a straight direction. The famous three pointed star was shining, albeit pretty dimly, in the wrong direction here.

General highlights:
- Total of six days away
- Travelled from Marrakesh > Sahara Desert (near Zagora) > Marrakesh > Essaouria > Marrakesh
- Ate plenty of tajines
- 1970s Mercedes Benz taxis abound
- Saw lots of people riding donkeys

Marrakesh:
- Cat in the airport terminal

- Spotted our first camels
- Stayed at the Hotel El Andalous
- Jardin Marjorelle
- Walked up to the walled old town
- Souks
- High of 42°C on Monday

Marrakesh to Sahara Desert:
- Seven hour drive into the desert
- Crossing the High Atlas mountain range
- Drank our first mint tea
- Passed by several traditional Berber villages
- Fake coloured quartz stones
- People selling dates, and letting you hold their lizard for a fee
- Stopped in the cinema studio city of Ouarzazate for lunch – the gateway to the desert
- Purchased a head scarf from someone bearing resemblance to Kanye West

Sahara Desert Berber camp:
- 45 minute camel ride into the desert to reach camp
- Well-equipped camping facilities
- Strong winds kept blowing our tent’s door open
- Witnessed the sunrise over the Sahara Desert
- Camera became full of sand :(
- On our return to Marrakesh, lunch stop at UNESCO World Heritage listed 11th century city of Aït Ben Haddou
- Strolled through the old town, constructed mainly of mud and straw

Essaouira:
- Herds of goats perched in the Argan trees
- Visited an Argan oil cooperative
- Wandered through the walled old town in Essaouira
- Visited the local souk
- Relaxed by the beach but didn’t get in the water
- Coolest weather out of all the places we went in Morocco