Liverpool, UK -> Marrakech, Morocco
Thursday, April 8, 2015

The day started well, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and the light breeze sent a whisper through the trees – unfortunately we were still in Liverpool. So we packed, we unpacked and we packed again until the bags were full and our patience was expended. Then we were off .

The trip to Manchester was uneventful, the selected music was God knows what, something the “young people” listen to I expect, but eventually we arrived at the airport. The police attempted to direct us away from the terminal but by simply driving more slowly than everyone else by the time we reached the blockade the police car had opened the road again and we were able arrive at our destination with hours to spare (yes, I know!)

Check-in was seamless, the spot of lunch was lovely and the delay due to the air traffic control in France was expected, but eventually we managed to board the plane, ignore the worrying sounds from the port side, and enjoy the smooth flight to Africa.

Marrakech airport was clean, pleasant and modern, but the passport control was stunningly chaotic, to such an extent that the passport officer was forced to come out of his little cubicle and harangue the crowd in a variety of languages – all of which were gleefully ignored. Even so, we made our weary way past the luggage pickup, through the sleepy customs people and out into Morocco.

The man from the riad was there in a smart 4 wheeled drive car, and he whisked us, at a strangely sedate pace, to the centre of Marrakech. Eventually he ran out of road wide enough for his car so were we ushered out of the vehicle and into the care of Abdul, a charming chap who steered us down winding alleys and narrowing passageways until we arrived at a non-descript doorway. “Et voila” we had arrived at the Le Coq Berbere.

Bachir greeted us as we arrived, showed us to our room and let us know that dinner would be served when we were ready, and since it was about 11pm, we were ready any time.

Marrakech, Morocco
Thursday, April 9, 2015

The call to prayer failed to wake us, so we arose at a sleepy 8.30am. We wandered to a lovely breakfast of breads, juices, cakes and yohurts. Not much for the gluten haters amongst us, so Luce and I kindly donated our yoghurts in exchange for more cake – oh the sacrifices we make !

After a most helpful run down of the delights of Marrakech and surrounds from Bachir we took of first, tentative steps into the maze of streets. We had read the guide books, we had poured over the TripAdvisor pages, we had memorised the web pages and … They are wrong. At no time did we feel overwhelmed by traders trying to get us to buy their wares, never did we feel set upon to purchase tacky touristy things, the people were generous, friendly, polite and helpful – it was a perfect morning. We wandered through the crowded alleys breathing in the scents, devouring the sights and generally “loving it”. We had coffee overlooking a small square with the high Atlas mountaind dominating the far horizon. Luce and Belinda had their hands henna-ed and I managed to resist the urge to buy a fossil !

Jemaa el-Fnaa was our next stop, the famous square where everything happens. We saw snake charmers, dancers, cross-dressing henna artists, horse drawn carriages and a multitude of other sights. It is truly a marvellous spectacle. We then had a rather boring lunch in a cafe where Lucia failed to get her choice of meal, a problem that will reoccur at least once in this narrative…

We returned to the riad for a North African siesta and then later in the day ventured forth into the souk once more, managing to avoid buying anything but more importantly avoiding the mirriad of motorcycles that festoon the narrow pedestrian streets of the old medina.

Dinner this evening was only noteworthy for the problem I had warned you of earlier – but at least this time Lucia was able to pick a second choice. We returned, weary and footsore, to the hotel, booked a day trip to Essaouira tomorrow and collapsed into the beds dreaming of manic motorcycles and missing meals…

Essaouira, Morocco
Friday, April 10, 2015

An early start, and an early breakfast were the precursors to our day today. We had booked a day trip to Essaouira which meant getting the taxi at 8:00am. After our pleasant breakfast we eventually boarded our taxi ( rather posh people carrier thingy ) and began the 3 hour trip to the Atlantic Ocean. The driver gave a sparce but interesting commentary as we trundled along the smooth roads towards the sea. We stopped for a break after about 90 minutes and then another one an hour later.

The second stop was at a women’s cooperative which produced a type of almond oil. We were shown the process by a charming guide and then were encouraged to buy the product – it wasn’t cheap but it was a very labour intensive method. We escape with minimal outlay !

Essaouira appeared over the brow of a hill, a white jewel against the azure blue of the ocean ( please stop me if I get too poetic ). We left the taxi by the port and began a self guided tour of the self-proclaimed “Windy City of Africa” the port being literally our first port of call, a busy, smelly, noisy habour, full of blue boats and silver fish. We watched one boat being unloaded, the catch was thousands upon thousands of small mackerel, which were packed into trays and sold on the wharfside.

After filling our senses with the reek of fish we make tracks into the medina, looking for a place to eat. We settled gratefully into a small cafe and dined on fish tajine for me, beef something for Belinda and braised camel ( I kid you not ) for Lucia. We all agreed that it was pretty yummy. We then left and wandered the back streets managing to buy some pottery and getting caught up in an open air daily prayer outside the mosque ! No one was put out and we patiently waited the 10 or so minutes until it finished.

A long walk on the rather beautiful beach including running away from erratic waves which studiously ignored my commands to “Do not dare to cross this line” was followed by a swift coffee in an equally beautiful hotel before we returned to our waiting raxi for the trip home. We all manged to “rest our eyes” for a bit on the trip and arrived back at the riad in time for a quick rest before ploughing back into the warren of alleyways in search of an evening snack.

A random walk brought us out at the small square we discovered on the first day. We elected to eat at Nomad, trendy eatery in the modern Morocco/French style. The food was excellent but the service less so. We were given “second hand” bread and when this was pointed out it was met with the North African equivalent of the Gallic shrug. Won’t be going there again !

I still haven’t been allowed to buy a carpet – but it is only a matter of time.

Marrakech, Morocco
Saturday, April 11, 2015

We arose late and dined on the same simple but tasty breakfast. Belinda smuggled in one of her gluten free rolls and was able to sample the jams on offer. It was at this point that the joke of joke, the pinnacle of puns, the most supendous of wittisms ever uttered ( possibly ) was created. Of the two jams on the table today, one was apricot and the other was kumquat. Well Lucia and I had stuck with the tried and tested apricot but brave Belinda was going for the other one, so Luce and I decreed that Belinda would choose the other jam “Kumquat may!” – my, how we laughed.

After such frivolities we decided that a period of contemplation was required, so we hoisted ourselves out of the riad and made our way to the Jardin Majorelle.

…to be continued…

…continuing, as promised…

We decided to venture forth by foot rather than taxi, a decision which in hindsght was excellent but at first glance seemed rather risky as cars, motorbikes, donkeys and people rushed by us. We got to YSL’s rather clinical but beautiful gardens ( look up Jardin Marjorelle for the background ) and wandered into his small but immaculate museum of Berber life, and left feeling no wiser about Morroco but slightly lighter in the wallet. We then stayed on foot and walked into the centre of Marrakech proper. It is a slightly strange mix of old and new, with all the buildings a uniform pink-orange colour regardless of whether they are 100 days or 100 years old.

We ate in a trendy, cosmopolitan cafe, the food and service was excellent and the entertainment from adjoining tables was amusing if fleeting, as one young lady was uncermoniously asked to leave for no apparent ( to me ) reason at all. Belinda and Lucia, much to their annoyance missed this, and had to be content with my retelling of the story.

After lunch we wandered rather aimlessly until we entered the municipal gardens which were a joy to behold, much more accepting and much more free than the Majorelle. We stopped near a tree which was over 100 years old and seemed, for some odd reason, to have been named Oliver – at least that is what we thought the sign said – how were we to know how they spell Olive tree here ??

We then spent too long in the Artisan Centre, leaving with associated trinkets and objet d’art, and also where Lucia had her first lesson in Moroccan carpet weaving. She put in two very small pieces of wool and paid 50p for the privilege, its no wonder carpets are so expensive ! ( I still haven’t bought one by the way, in case you were wondering ). We also are much more knowledgeable about the techniques of felt hat making and the carving of small wooden animals, but this is, of course, is why one travels – to broaden one’s horizon and learn absolutely pointless skills.

Tired, we returned to the riad, flopped onto the bed and rested our weary feet, pondered dinner and planned our next day in the Imperial City.

Marrakech, Morocco
Sunday, April 12, 2015

The sun was cracking the stucco walls as we prepared for another busy day doing not very much in Marrakech. Lucia had bought a Fez yesterday, thereby ending a lifelong search for the world’s most authentic head wear; however, she has decided not to wear it in Morocco for some unknown reason ( at least to me. ) so it is back to baseball caps and the classic, floppy bush-hat.

On a different subject, it has been brought to my attention that spelling mistakes have been encountered by certain members of the wider readership. I will mention no names, but the guilty party knows who they, don’t you Mrs Zegenhagen, but suffice it to say that I will try to allevieate, aliveeeait, alevevenate, minimize them as much as possible, and if that fails then sack the proof reading team !

The Ben Youssef Mosque and the museum are our targets today.. Only a 10 minute stroll in the Medina, or so we thought. After wandering, and unknown to us, lost, we arrived at what we thought was the museum. Well, it was a museum but not the one we wanted – but in for a penny in for a Dirham as they say here, we paid the entrance fee and went into the museum. It was small, neat, uninformative and slightly dull, but the lady at reception was charming and did direct us to the correct museum as we left !

After a spot of map reading ( why didn’t we do that to begin with ? ) we neared the correct school/museum. As we did a Moroccan chap told us that it was closed and we should go to the tanneries instead. We smiled and ignored him, but an Australian couple behind laughed and said he had told them the same thing yesterday. Well, the Moroccan did NOT take kindly to this and harangued this couple for a few minutes, using some choice English words and telling them it was his job and they should mind their own business !
First bit of anger we have seen all week really.
The Ali Ben Youssef Medersa, next to the mosque is a very old Muslim theological college, opened in 14th Century. It used to house over 900 students in 132 small dormitory rooms and, so we were told, only one bathroom ! It was a stunningly beautiful building. The mosaics, carvings and delicate trellis work was overwhelming.

We had a spot of lunch in Djemaa El-Fna and then walked down to the Bahia Palace, getting seriously lost this time – still, all part of the rich tapestry of Marrakech ( plus nowhere is very far from anywhere else inside the Medina walls ). The Palace was empty of ornaments and furniture but full of a German tour group, even so we were able to admire the ornate ceilings and make use of the conveniences !

On leaving the Palace we accidentally went into a carpet shop and had a look at some carpets ( well what did you think we would be looking at ? ). There was one we liked, but it was very old, and also very dirty looking. It seemed to be very good quality and the price dropped remarkably from 3,800dh to 1,100dh in a matter of minutes. If the whites of the carpet had been whiter we would have been sorely tempted, but as it was, it looked too much like it was crying out for the wool cycle in a washing machine !

So, empty handed, we consoled ourselves with an ice cream and returned to the hotel. Resting feet, reading guide books and thinking about dinner …
For dinner we zipped down to Le Jardin and had a very nice, if rather expensive meal. I had salmon tartare for starters, described by Lucia as “a bit weird but quite nice” and a sardine tajine for main. The girls had something else but it was very dark in the outdoor restaurant by this time so I can only guess what it might have been – they seemed to enjoy it. ( Lucia’s had mushrooms in it though, I know that much )

We got back to the riad quickly and settled into bed. It is a big day tomorrow, trecking in the High Atlas ! Not really sure how much trecking as opposed to just looking at the mountains we will be doing – we will find out tomorrow.

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 !)

Marrakech, Morocco
Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Today was lazy. It was planned and executed with a precision-like laziness that was brilliant to behold. It started with a late and elongated breakfast that had extra eggs and fruit along with the staples of cake, bread, yohurt etc. it then morphed, first of all into a “lying around the riad” before transforming itself into a “slow wander around the souks”. We spied a rather nice lamp which we manged to haggle down by about 70% which we thought was quite good – but since the shop man didn’t give the appearance that he had been robbed once he had the money in his hand I guess he was quite pleased with the result too!

We then returned to the riad to recover from our exertions and give serious thought as to how we were going to get all these things home again – I can see we might need to go shopping for a bigger case tomorrow. Anyway, filled with a fresh sense of exploration we wandered down some new streets, perused some new shops and bought a couple of bracelets and a “Hand of Fatima” – no, not a preserved relic but a decoration to ward off the evil spirits, well something like that, we are not entirely sure !

We have bought enough Moroccan souvenirs to open our own shop in the Medina – I would have to stay here and run it of course, while Belinda and Luce went back to work and school since women are completely absent from shopkeeping duties – so it would be long, hot, lazy days for me, sitting around, chatting with friends, drinking tea and poking vague fun at tourists – what a burden it would be !

Lunch was a relaxed affair, with only a small bite to eat, for tonight we are going to I Limoni from our final dinner. Hopefully it will be good. The afternoon was spent mostly reading in the shade, but I did find time to have a shave – a picture is worth a thousands words. The weather was a lot cooler today, it might even had showered lightly during the night.

As you can see we have taken it desperately easy this, our final full day in Morocco. Tomorrow we leave, the plane flying at about 8pm.

Manchester, England, United Kingdom
Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Well, our final morning arrived, and it started like all the others .. an excellent breakfast in the riad. Then things changed from the norm… firstly we had to pay and secondly we had to pack. I sorted out the first while Belinda and Lucia sorted the second. Once the finances and packaging had been completed we set forth once more into the maze of alleyways to buy more trinkets, spend more money, haggle more prices and try and remember every single part of this tremendous city.

We bought a pair of sandals for Luce, we tried a few places; the first was a rather confused affair where we didn’t really understand what the shop owner was trying to do.. so we walked away. Then when we tried in a different shop the shop keeper declined to match my price. I tried walking away from that but I was sent back by Luce to get the pair, so I had to up my price ! Never mind, we got what we wanted, a pair of hand made, multicoloured sandals.

We had a quick lemonade in a cafe overlooking the small square, where we watched the local trading enforcement officer taking out his frustractions on a hat seller ! We think the seller had expanded his table too far, sending it over the designated “line on the ground”, but whatever the reason, the law-man won the day.

After a lunch in a grimy, dingy, lovely, marvellous cafe, we sat around the riad reading for a couple of hours before jumping in a taxi and whizzing to the airport. Another few hours waiting around was ended when we zoomed Manchester bound on the EasyJet flight – we saw many of the same people who had flown out with us 7 days ago.

The flight was uneventful, and at Manchester Belinda surprisingly got through passport control quicker than Luce and I. But, after only a 15 minute delay, we were in our car and driving back, in the dark and cold, to home…..