Asni, Morocco
Monday, April 13, 2015
The day started slowly, we arose late, breakfast was late, we were late to the tour taxi but nobody seemed to mind. Today was our trip to the Ourika Valley about 70km south of Marrakech in the High Atlas mountains. Our guide, Assan, was a most personable chap and answered our question no matter how daft, and gave us a running commentary of where we were and what we were seeing, after only about 10 minutes the mountains hove into view and my what a sight ( hopefully some of our multitude of photos will do them justice ) they are high, craggy, mountainous, snowcapped, domineering, menacing, breathtaking- basically any adjective you can think of and then some more !
As we drove closer they became even more impressive but for the moment I will leave them and move our story to our first stop. A town, almost a wild west town, was our destination. I didn’t see the name but I will not forget the sight of cows heads sitting on a butcher’s block, tongue lolling obscenely, the oesophagus gaping open and the blood oozing very slowly from the severed veins and arteries. It was accompanied by the head and headless torsos of assorted goats, sheep and chickens. The place was remarkably clean and fly-free and not in any way stomach churning – it is simply the place you buy meat.
Behind the butchers market was the rest of the Berbere market selling all manner of fruits and vegetables, clothes and footwear, animals alive and dead. You could get a shave, buy a bike, get the weekly shop and adorn yourself in silver jewellery all in the one place – and, of course, buy the whole head of a cow !
We left there and a little later popped into an “authentic Berbere house”. Just to fill you in as to who the Berbere are, they are the original inhabitants of Morocco, named by the Romans as Berber or barbarian. The have existed in Morocco for thousands of years, sometimes ruling and other times subjugated. The name Barbary pirate comes from Berbere, and recently it has become a mark of pride to be Berbere in Morocco and something like an unlikely 30% of present day Moroccans claim Berbere ancestry. Anyway, back to the house; It was rather nice but a little like a tiny museum, but we looked around, smiled politely, drank mint tea and left – but not before Belinda thought a cat had weed on her from a thatched roof !! It hadn’t, but still didn’t stop everyone laughing.
On we drove, climbing, climbing always climbing and following the Ourika river upwards into the towering massif ( oh, hark at him using French ) before us. The road wound back and forth passing through a succession of villages and passing a vast number of cafes. These cafes were, for the most part, on the other side of the river, the fast flowing, freezing cold river. “How do I get to that lovely cafe” I hear you ask – well obviously over the very rickety, very dubious rope bridge that looks like it was built, oh about 8 minutes ago ! This it seemed was the way it has always been done, even though a flash flood in 1995 killed over 200 people.
We parked the car and Assan handed us over into the care Aziz the mountain guide. Aziz was to take us up to 1900m and let us see the famous waterfalls over the town of Setti Fatma. It sounds a lot more strenuous than it turned out to be. We walked up from the town, following a track which was easy to negotiate with care. After about 25 minutes of climbing, with stops for ooooing and ahhhing about the stunning views, we reached the highest point where there was a cafe selling vastly overpriced but very welcome fresh orange juice. We rested gratefully before making our way down a different route, which at one point involved paying a young man to let you use his ladder and looking out for snakes ! We think Aziz was joking about the snakes.
We reached the safety of the town and thanked Aziz profusely, he had been a most excellent guide and had stopped us all from falling at least once and in my case about 5 times ! We declined the chance of lunch, feeling heady with the trek ( rather lax usage of the word there ) and jumped back into the car for the 60 minute trip home.
THE BEST BIT !
On the way down the hill we slowed down by a carpet shop and I asked Assan if we could spend 5 minutes looking around. So in we popped, had a chat to the owner and admired his wares but we were unable agree a price for the size and type of carpet we wanted. We left, feeling a little downhearted. ( at least I was ) and continued down the valley. However, Assan stopped at another shop and after 30 minutes of viewing and haggling we are now the proud owners of a Moroccan Berbere carpet !!
The rest of the drive was uneventful and Assan deposited us safely at the riad. He was a brilliant driver and we couldn’t have wished for a better host on our trip. Dinner this evening was a simple affair since we were all pretty tired. Pizza for Luce and I and a sort of chicken kebab for Belinda. Then to bed, for tomorrow we ….errr .. not sure really what we are doing, but whatever it is will be brilliant ( unless it is being bitten by a snake !)
