Reminders of Why Travelling is So Great

The train ride from Fes to Marrakesh was long - about 8 hours - and the four of us spent much of that time trying to get comfortable on seats that don't really lend themselves to great comfort - but at least the toilets were ok and (unusually for Morocco) they had a decent supply of paper! :) We got Claude and Edda hooked on our iPod games and music, which was fun since Claude (who usually speaks quite softly) would occassionally bellow out something not realising he was shouting over the music on his headphones.

By the time we arrived, the scenery had changed and become much drier - closer to what we had expected from Morocco. Marrakesh itself is a reddish pink (all cities on Morocco are, by law, painted a single hue selected by the King). We had not been able to find any hotels to reserve accomodation in advance - with most saying that we should just call on arrival, so our first half hour or so was spent on the public phone trying to find rooms. We eventually decided to just go to the Old City (the Medina) and check the hotels in person, on the assumption that its harder to tell us no face-to-face.

From the train station we caught 2 taxis (the Petit Taxis carry a maximum of 3 people) but got ripped off. Our drivers agreed to take us to our hotel, and to turn on the meters (which many don't do if you don't ask), but they turned out to not know the way (or pretended not to) so our driver charged us for the cell phone call he had to make to the hotel to find the way - the 20 Dh for the cell call was 5 Dh more than the actual fare itself!! Oh well!

The hotel we found was superb - exactly what we had hoped for, well priced, and 100% authentic Moroccan with super-helpful satff and right next to the main square of the Old City (see seperate review of the hotel). Our room was on the terrace, and for pretty much the first time in Morocco we felt like we could relax and really feel like we were in this amazing North African experience. After a quick nap and shower we met us again and walked to the famous Djema el-Fna - a massive open square in the center of the Medina (the Old City) and the pulsing heart of Marrakesh. At dusk, when we arrived, it is packed with hundreds of food stalls (with clouds of steam and cooking smoke billowing into the clear night sky), street performers (acrobats, storytellers, henna tattoo artists etc), and at least as many locals as tourists.

After changing some money we walked over to a circle of people surrounding one of the acrobats to have a look. I hoisted Denise onto my shoulders so she could see over the crowd - which turned out to be a tactical mistake. The Djema el-Fna locals and vendors see anyone even vaguely foreign-looking as prey to be fleeced - and nothing more. Our pale skins, evident cameras and backpacks, and having Denise on my shoulders, marked us as fresh meat. The acrobat immeditely shoved through the crowd and demanded the Denise should pay him. She said she would, but only once he had done something - since we had seen no acrobatics of any kind. He became very insistent and rude - taunting us and getting the now-growing crowd to do the same. When Denise did give him 5Dh it made things worse. He did one handstand and was back immediately for more money. At this point I felt a hand in my pocket, and with Denise perched on my shoulders had a tough time slapping it away before my wallet was endangered. We realised that the crowd around us was twice the size of that around the acrobat and quickly got Denise down and moved off in a different direction. Claude had a monkey shoved onto his shoulders - and the owner then offered to 'help get him off' - for a fee of course (which we didn't pay). Both of the girls had their hands grabbed by henna tattoo artists who began to apply unasked for tattoo before they could even breathe the 'La Shukran' (no thanks in Arabic). It was a rough introduction to the real hassling that you can attract as a tourist target.

Rather than try to brave the depths of the markets immediately, we chose to find some food and just recover. Chez Chegrouni was the perfect choice. Located on the edge of the square, it had 4 floors of tables, and ours on the top floor was a much more peaceful way to enjoy the sights and sounds of the area. The meat and veggie tagines were also the best we had yet enjoyed - especially Edda's beef, onions and prune one, which we came back for the next day as well.

Feeling better and less harried we decided to plunge into the market - but again it was less than comfortable as we attracted unwanted 'help' whenever we even glanced at any of the items for sale. We began to realise that our 'No Thank You's' needed to be much more firm and even rude to deflect the inevitable follow-up hassling. After a quick (and very spicy) cinammon tea and spiced cake we headed back to the hotel for some much-needed sleep.

Monday was a great day. We had a very filling breakfast at the hotel (with Moroccan pancakes, teas, fruits, yoghurt etc.) and then met up with our driver, Mustaffa, who we had arranged with the hotel would be taking all four of us up into the High Atlas mountains for the day in his Grand Taxi (an ancient Mercedes with a whopping 574000 km's on the clock!!!). The day was cloudy and overcast - and rained from time to time - but it was no real dampener on our experiences. Our first stop was a real Berber market in a tiny town about an hour from Marrakesh - which was muddy, very agricultural (with donkeys, sheep, goats, chickens and more all for sale), and also rather frenetic with locals again making a direct line for the pale skins invading their space. I was offered 5000 camels for Denise - to which I responded that she was worth at least 100 000 camels! (We worked out it was a standard 'line' to get you chatting - like the one about the 'Berber Mercedes'...a donkey...and the 'Berber Parking Lot'...a space where all the 80÷ donkeys are parked). The market was not at all the kind we had expected (we thought it would be arts and crafts) but was instead local fruit and vegetables, spare parts (for evrything from watches to radios) and even Berber blacksmiths making and sharpening knives etc.

We also stopped at one point to look at some Berber camels (Denise liked the baby one), but we declined to take a ride; and also at a castle-like Kasbah that sold carpets (which we didn't want) and had a great view of the whole area. The second-to-last stop was at a Berber house - where we were shown around by the three generations living there - from their ingenious water mill, to the living areas and even their river and cattle pen. The home-made bread and mint tea was excellent and we really enjoyed the genuine warmth of their hospitality. The log bridges over the fast-flowing moutain river were also a treat - with Indiana Jones-like swaying over the precipice.

The final destination was in a National Park - where much snow-skiing takes place in Winter. We were there for another natural attraction - the 'cataracts' (waterfalls). There are 7 in total - of which we planned to see the first 3 (the other 4 would have taken another 5 hours). Our guide (this time official!) was a local who knew the mountains like the back of his hand. We clambered up the ravines and into the High Atlas. Apart from the incredible views, the other remarkable thing was how high the local eating spots and mini-bars had been built. With no electricity the Berber 'fridges' (contraptions in which piped running water - icy from the melt snow above - uses gravity to spray over soft drinks etc) became ever more elaborate and inventive the higher we climbed. Other highlights included the Berber version of aqueducts, a snake charmer who let us play with his pet, and countless orchards of cherries and other fruit. The views from the top were spectacular, and the waterfalls made the whole visit worthwhile. There was even a trinket vendor at the summit!! Lunch was in a small touristy restaraunt at the bottom again, after which we drove the 2 hours back into town. After a quick nap and shower we again hit Chez Chegrouni for dinner and then off to bed.

Tuesday was our last full day in Morocco - and it was one of many new experiences. We slept in a bit later (Denise missed breakfast) and then walked through the souks to the 14th Century Ali Ben Youssef Medersa - part of the 12th Century Ali Ben Youssef Mosque complex (the largest and oldest of the mosques still standing in the Medina). The Medersa was a religious school/university and had some stunning mosaics, carvings and architecture. The same entry ticket also gave us access to the Musee de Marrakesh - a mixture of art and artifacts in a stunningly restored 19th Century palace (Dar Mnebhi). The massive central courtyard has been covered and now sports an immense metal chandelier/canopy over some elegant pools and fountains - very restful and meditative. The ticket also gave access to some archeological excavations of the old Medina water system - but this was less than interesting and we soon left again.

I am proud to report that, in spite of my reputation as a poor navigator, it was I who charted our course back through the heart of the souks to the Cafe Espice where we had a quick tea and Claude negotiated for (with Denise's help) and bought some Fes hats for his family. We then walked back through the Djema el-Fna and found some snake charmers - with whom I spent some time and got some pictures. The afternoon was devoted to the area South of the square - two palaces (one relatively new - the Palais del la Bahia, and the other quite ruined - the Palais el-Badi which is now ruled by massive storks and their nests). On the way we also spent some time looking at the spire of the Koutoubia Mosque (most venerated in Marrakesh but not open to non-believers) and the surrounding gardens. The it was back to the hotel and a quick change in time to head to a local hammam!

A hammam is a traditional bathhouse and we had certain expectations - pretty much all of which were dashed during the actual experience. We had arranged, through our hotel, to have a local lady lead us to the hammam and then show us what to do. We met her at the hotel and followed her into the winding passages of the medina. She met up with another guy who had bought for us the necessary black soap (gunky goo made of olive oil) and other supplies. On reaching the hammam - which was nothing more than a small house in a back alley, the two girls were taken off woth our lady, and the guy took Claude and I into our section. First we paid the 10Dh entry fee and shed our clothes down to swimming trunks in a very small changing room - this was clearly a local hammam and not prettified for tourists. We then went into the innder rooms - cramped, hot, humid tiled cells in which we were told to lie on the floor tiles. Hot water was dumped on us from buckets and our guy was joined by another older local (who looked like Mr Myagi from the Karate Kid). They soaped us up with the black soap and then walked all over us in some kind of massage. This was followed by some serious chiropractic 'stretching' in which my spine was cracked about ten times and I found how close I could get my knees to my ears - I guess we looked like wrestling regulars! The next phase was being very roughly scoured by our attendants with gloves that felt like sandpaper - which removed layers of skin I never knew I had. After this we had our hair washed and again got doused with more buckets of water. By the end of the process my skin was glowing and I felt great - it was hardly the experience we had expected...no nice plunge pools (or even normal showers), no gentle music and rose petals with candles - this was real Morroco! I was so proud of Denise, who had no problems lying on tiles she normally wouldn't have walked barefoot on! It was, nonetheless, an experience to remember and one we would strongly recommend.

After another quick change at the hotel we met to go back to the square where we tried snail soup (a local delicacy) and an informal dinner of kebabs and pastilles (sugar pastries filled with chicken!).

Wednesday morning dawned - our final day in Morocco. We had breakfast and packed, then went to the square for Denise to get a henna tattoo on her lower leg (which will last for about 5 weeks). After that we bade farewell to Claude and Edda (although we hope to see them again in Aussie later this year) and did some last-minute gift shopping in the souks. Then off to the airport and a sad farewell to North Africa - definitely one of the greatest parts of the trip so far.