Aug 24 - Les Cascades d'Ouzoudes

The plan today was to take a second chance at exploring the scenery of Morocco. Some hours drive away from Marrakesh, there were supposed to be a corridor of beauty and greenery, but lacking our own vehicle, getting to many of these locations would be rather difficult. Reading the descriptions in LP and weighing the option of chartering a grand taxi for the day, we decided that we might take a chance on a recommended travel company to take day trips out to les Cascades d’Ouzoudes – waterfalls.

We had already reserved 3 spots the night before at a hefty 200Dh each, so we woke up early to catch the ride out of there. Getting out of the hotel that early was a bit of a hassle, because as I’d mentioned before, the hotel employees double as security by sleeping at rooms by the door. They also lock the main doors from the inside, such that we cannot get out without waking them up. So here we were, trying to wake them up, while not waking up the rest of the hotel (the hotel was built Moroccan building style, with a courtyard in the center surrounded by the different rooms on the perimeter – no glass in windows just bars – you could hear everything). I’m not sure whether they were being deliberately annoying, or whether they were really that fast asleep (which calls into question their security effectiveness), but it took us a good five minutes before they finally responded to a flashlight being shone into their faces. I actually heard another group go through this ordeal from my bed a morning earlier, but in my groggy state, I thought they were people that had gotten locked out. Not true – they were locked in.

We got to the tour agency, got into some vans, and went on our merry way. It was pretty quiet on the trip there and out – ppl were pretty much catching up on sleep. If I remember correctly, the place was about an hour to 2 hours drive out. Strangely, we stopped at a gas station about 15 minutes before our final destination, not to get gas, but to do who knows what. This is not the country of efficiency.

The whole tour thing proved to be sketchy in the utmost as they dropped us off in a parking lot and told us they’d be back at 4pm to pick us up. Excuse me??? We just paid a total of 600Dh for merely a van ride??? Some of the tourists followed the ‘tour guide’ but they later said that he took them down paths that required them to slide down on their butts and that he clearly had no clue where he was going. LP is usually reliable, but in this case, no so much.

That detail aside, it was a beautiful day and an impressive tiered waterfall. The basin, brown as it looked, was filled with swimmers and other merrymakers, despite the “Natation Interdit” signs posted around. The path down to the basin was lined with shops and restaurants (no you can’t escape them) where we stopped for a lengthy lunch. Vegetarian tajines in view of the waterfall and a pomegranate tree (!!).

I was trying not to drink too much, because I didn’t really want to use the mountain ‘restrooms’. At some point, I screwed up the courage to try to find the “WCs” and followed the sign pointing up the mountain. The path ended at what appeared to be a mud hut on one side and a stick structure on the other. Neither looked at all appealing. Some very male horking sounds came from the stick structure, and at that point, I decided that I really didn’t want to find out which was what and fled back down the path to the great amusement of K, who was waiting for my assessment at the bottom. So, we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to ignore the great body of rushing water while holding it in.

Interesting encounter with a beggar when we climbed back up to the top. In the cities, we had not been giving any money over, because if you do, you are sure to be mobbed by the remainder. In this rather rural locale, A thought that it would be less risky, and gave some coins to one man we encountered. K warned her that she was now fair game and that the man had probably hobbled down the mountain to tell the rest of the populace of the Asian girl with money. Funnily enough, the very next beggar we encountered asked A for coins.

We sat and waited for the bus for a while (which was late). Waiting with us were two women from Toronto of all things. A located an ice cream seller and bought a cone. An extremely sketchy guy (who had earlier offered his services as a guide) came by and berated us in general for littering, making a big show of throwing away a wrapper on the ground. This turns out not to be A’s wrapper, as she still has it in hand, and she makes a somewhat smaller show of throwing that away.

The bus finally arrives, and we return to Marrakesh to say goodbye to the great square on our last night. For dinner, we decide to try one of the restaurants bordering the great square that is supposed to have live entertainment. You can see us here with the singing and drumming troupe that night. Not quite bellydancing, but impressive enough.

Next - Aug 25 - To Casablanca

Aug 23 - Self-tour of Marrakesh

This day was described in datail in my last post from Morocco. Picture 1 is of me at les Jardins Marjorelles, where you can see the painter's famous striking shade of blue. I think this was the first day I wore my new green chemise, whose dye came off all over my bra.

This next picture is the view from underneath the olive trees where we sat and people-watched at the Jardin Menara.

This picture was taken inside the Marrakesh Museum. We were pretty tired at this point and sat around for a while.

These last couple pictures were taken inside the Palais el-Badi or the 'ruined palace' as I referred to it in the blog. This first is of some of the many storks nesting in the ruins. This was getting towards late afternoon, so we got some great light.

The last picture is the view into the palace complex from one of the battlements that we were allowed to climb up.

Next - Aug 24 - Les Cascades d'Ouzoudes

Aug 22 –Tour of Marrakesh

As per our experience from Fez, we decided that we’d find a tourguide to help us see the major sites and get a feel for the city on our first full day in the city. This is the sketchy tourguide that I’d mentioned in my blog, who kept trying to bring us to shops after we made it clear we wanted to see the museums and NOT go shopping. Especially not carpet shopping. We did get in a few palaces etc. but it felt like he was rushing us from site to site so he could sneak in random shops in between.

The first couple pics are random shots from the Palais de la Bahia. Named for the favourite wife of some dead well-to-do dude (woohoo alliteration). There were some cool fruit trees in the gardens – pomegranates, grapefruit, and oranges. Outside the palace he shows us storks nesting on the old building walls. I kept looking for these birds on rooftops in the Netherlands and here they are absolutely everywhere in Morocco. They seem to be fairly highly regarded in this city – they even have a hospital for them. Cigognes in French.

The third picture is taken at the gorgeous Ali ben Youssef Medersa where I took this other photo featured earlier. You can see our tourguide in the bottom middle walking in front of A – tall and dark in a white robe. They had some neat exhibits in this medersa showing some recreations of what the rooms might have looked like when they were in use.

As mentioned in the blog, he took us to a low-key shop for lunch. Nothing like the touristified places we’d been previously – this was where the locals went, and where the touristified places secretly bought their food. They tried to charge us tourist prices at first but we balked and said we’d leave. Principles damnit. Omelets and bread for lunch – pretty yummy if a little greasy. I don’t dare touch the salad even though fresh vegetables sound so good. In the picture you can see the brochettes grilling over the fire, as well as the scales used to measure out the raw meat portions.

We passed through the blacksmith’s quarters after lunch. Interestingly, there are no shops for him to try and sell us stuff, but the spaces in front of the shops piled with cast iron rods bent into various shapes were very striking.

Dinner of harira with the imam and his wife was described previously (second paragraph). This is our first night eating in the square. K was still hungry after the soup, so we sat down for a snack at one of the food stalls. More brochettes, complimentary olives and the traditional round flat loaves of bread, served with some thin tomato-ey dipping sauce.

Next - Aug 23 - Self-tour of Marrakesh

Djem el Fna: The Great Square of Marrakesh

Excerpt from A’s email “Tales from the Moroccan road”, sent August 23rd:

Im currently in Marrakesh, the city of the Djemaa el-Fna square... one of the most magical and primal spectacles Ive ever witnesed in my life. Every single night a crowd in the tens of thousands congregates in the gigantic square, to be entertained by the jugglers, storytellers, snake charmers, musicans (the drummers are spectacular), and open-air food stalls galore. The marketplaces are pulsing with energy and always an adventure to explore.

I’ve already tried to describe this place in words (last paragraph), but let me allow the pictures to do it justice.









Next - Aug 22 – Guided Tour of Marrakesh

Aug 21 – Introduction to Marrakesh

Naturally, the first thing we do is to check in to our hostel (to be home for the next few nights). The usual drill, fill in passport numbers and country entry numbers, pay for first night’s accommodation. When the guy signing us in hears that our families are originally from China/HK/Sri Lanka, we get the whole Bollywood/Jackie Chan reaction. By Jackie Chan reaction, I mean that the only connection these folks have to HK is Jackie Chan films, so they begin imitating kung fu moves accompanied by ‘hiya!’ sounds. I find it more embarrassing than amusing.

Hotel Afriquia of Marrakesh will be the largest hostel we stay in for all of Morocco – it has several levels as well as rooftop terraces for sleeping under the stars. Above is a picture of us hunkered down in our room - A reading our guide and saviour, Lonely Planet Morocco, while K’s omnipresent bottle of Coke sits under the bed.

Here’s the view looking out our room door. The whole hostel is built in a square surrounding a central courtyard filled with orange trees. We have a resident cat that occasionally poops in the showers and wanders into our room to sit in the wardrobe. It was often found sleeping in the (empty) fountain in the centre of the courtyard. I remember waking up early one morning to write some postcards, and watching it have the time of its life swatting a balloon around, hurtling after it through half-open doorways to get shooed out by barely-awake residents.

When people ask me what my favourite part of Morocco was, my answer is the souqs. I loved wandering through the souqs with no particular agenda in mind. There was so much to take in – the colours, the wares, the smells, the people! Here are my two best shots of the souqs of Morocco. The top one was taken that first afternoon we arrived in Marrakesh – I love the lighting. The two things illuminated by the afternoon sunlight are the load of handmade stools being pushed/pulled by these two men, and the yellow fabrics up the street hanging to dry after being dyed. The picture is framed by a hanging carpet on one side, and by the pusher of the cart on the other. Most souq streets are far too narrow for motorized vehicles, so the principal methods of transporting goods are by donkey or by carts.

The second photo, taken a few days later, is of a metalware stand at the side of a street. Shafts of sunlight randomly stab down from spaces between the corrugated material draped between stall roofs. A man with a bike is walking by (bikes are another common mode of transport on these cobbled streets). The person in charge of this stall is nowhere to be seen, but his empty stool sits in the pool of sunlight – a stool very much like the ones being transported in the picture above. It is unlikely that he is far, or a neighbouring vendor is watching his stall. They’re all in cahoots with one another, we learn before long. While trying to bargain with one man, he will go a few stalls down to ‘check’ with another whether the agreed price is reasonable. While buying jewelry from a man in one shop, another man will suddenly barge in to try and sell us djellabahs (traditional hooded robes), and the jewelry shopowner has no problem at all with this.

After some wandering, I head back with K to the hostel to get in a nap before evening, since none of us slept well on the train. The sun sets, and we try to decide what to do for dinner. Our decision is to eat at a highly recommended mid-range restaurant at the edge of the great Djem el Fna square, which means balcony seat views of the nightfall action there. We try the specialties of the restaurant – pastille, a special tajine made in a hammam, and for myself, rabbit tajine. It is delicious (rabbit tastes like chicken), especially the combination of raisins and onions melted into the sauce.

Next - Djem el Fna: The Great Square of Marrakesh

Aug 20-21 – Train from Fez to Marrakesh

In our semiconscious states, it seems like an eternity before the train sets off, but set off it does. I despise night travel. Being crammed in a seat, with your backpack, on a full train, as people get on and off, move down the aisles, stow their luggage, and stopping periodically for 10 minutes at a time is an extremely unpleasant way to sleep. It is an 8 hour train ride.

Once the sun rises and I give up on sleeping further, however, the view is fascinating. Red sandy vistas broken by the occasional dry riverbed, and all of a sudden a flash of emerald green – a river that hasn’t run dry is surrounded by lush plant growth and wading birds. Farms – or at least squares of land demarcated by hedges of cacti. Children in the fields. People gathering the cactus fruit. People on donkeys. A mosque in the distance.

Next - Aug 21 – Introduction to Marrakesh

Aug 20 – Azrou back to Fez

Our first order of business once we’d returned to town was to retrieve our luggage and pay to take a shower apiece back at the hotel. Then, we had some time to kill before dinner and taking the bus back to Fez, so I sat and wrote a couple postcards with all our luggage at the hotel’s tea salon, while A and K went to do some last bits of shopping. It started to rain outside – the first and only rain I’d seen in this country. We had wanted to do dinner at our hotel’s restaurant since LP advertised their rabbit stew and fresh lake trout, but they didn’t open until pretty late, so we made do with the restaurant next door.

Our next adventure was trying to find a taxi to take us back to the bus station. We finally had to split up so we could cover more street corners. I managed to snag one at the square and brought it over to where A and K had the luggage. One block later, we were at the station. WTH? We’d been in this town for two days and had not realized that our hotel was practically down the road from the station. The first taxi we’d taken had obviously taken us for a spin before pulling up to the hotel, and we’d just never happened to walk in that direction afterward. In the pic, you can see the patisserie where we ate all our French pastries, and the corner I finally found the taxi on.

We sat at the station for several hours, jumping up every time a bus pulled up to see whether it was going to Fes. We listened intently for the station attendant to yell "Fes! Fes! Fes!", but each time it was another destination. Finally, we ask him. It turns out that on some days, the buses do not follow the posted schedules and there would be no more buses to Fes that day. #(^%#&$???

We run out of the station and down to the taxi station where, luckily, we find a grand taxi with one other passenger wanting to go to Fes. Thus begins the waiting game. If you remember from earlier posts, grand taxis take 6 passengers or you can pay for extra seats. Here we were with 4 passengers. After the first 10 minutes, we tell the driver that we’re willing to pay for one extra seat, so we can have the back seat all to ourselves. He tries to convince the other lady to pay for the remaining seat, so we can all leave. She doesn’t give in for about another 10 minutes, but finally we are off.

We arrive in Fez with plenty of time to spare since our train leaves at 2am. We purchase our tickets and sat in the station, tried to sleep and swatted flies for a bit. The same song plays over and over in the station café. Finally, we get tired of sitting in those seats and get onto the train, find an empty compartment and try to sleep. Unfortunately, the compartment is not empty for very long, and all the seats fill up. The picture is of a train station, but obviously not the one in Fez, since we never saw it in daylight.

Next - Aug 20-21 – Train from Fez to Marrakesh

Aug 20 – The long dusty hike to the dead tree

We wake up early such that we can walk as far as possible while the sun isn’t too strong. Breakfast is French pastries and mint tea at the patisserie, before we try contacting the tourist bureau for tourguides. There is no one answering calls – we decide to go it ourselves. We acquire water, a loaf of round Moroccan bread and try to piece together the vague directions given by LP (where we’re going is off the Azrou map) and the concierge back at the hotel. We left our luggage under a table in some storeroom at the hotel, but took pictures of the assembled bags first because we didn’t fully trust them. The bag on the top was a new acquisition of K's to carry back all his souvenirs in.

Thus began the 13km hike to we’re not sure where. I’m wearing A’s runners, because my sandals have been falling apart since the Netherlands (they’re several years old) and I wasn’t certain they’d stand up to the rigours of this trip. They completely fell apart several days after I returned to Toronto, so I was pretty lucky. I wasn’t about to acquire new footwear in London (most expensive city I’ve ever been in) and I made one attempt to buy some in Meknes, but they had no sandals in my size (“Ces souliers, ils sont pour les hommes?” Oui “Avez-vous celui pour les femmes?” Non, les femmes ne portent pas ce type de souliers. – apparently all they wear are things with heels - “Pour les enfants?” Non. Ah well.)

The family from WI passes us in their vehicle at some point. The only other ppl on foot are those who live in the area. We ask a security guard to a hotel for directions, to check that we’re going the right way. He tells us to walk to the point where the road splits where we’ll see a sign and two policemen pointing. A and I are extremely confused as to whether we’d understood him correctly. If there’s a sign, why do they need policemen to stand there and point? And two of them? Maybe one is holding the sign and the other one is pointing….? Finally, we see the policemen – they seem to act as a checkpoint rather than a direction post.

We pass by farms, with donkeys grazing on rather dry-looking land, scraggly chickens and dogs. Finally, we begin to see trees replacing the farms above us and ahead of us.

We take our first rest stop when the road begins cutting through the trees, beside a shepherd leading his flock of sheep. Cars with EU plates pass us carrying other tourists. We feel ridiculous for trying to walk it, but the thought that we can’t be too far now keeps us going. We’re covered with a layer of dust clinging to dried sweat and sunscreen, but now that we’re in the trees, there’s shade.

And finally, we’re there! There is a parking lot surrounding a gigantic dead tree – the Cedre Gouraud. Surrounding the parking lot were random stands selling fossils, drinks, necklaces, postcards and peanuts. The area was a sort of park thing where many Moroccans came for day trips to enjoy the green and see the Barbary apes (you feed them the peanuts). Our first glimpse did not really impress us – we’d hiked 13km to see a dead tree? But, we were able to capture some more impressive photos later when some interesting cloud formations came through behind it.

We sat down and shared out our one loaf of bread while A made faces at the ‘donkey water’ she’d bought from one of the stands. Most of the vendors probably can’t afford vehicles, and the only way to haul crates of water and pop up all this way from Azrou was to use pack animals. I suppose that the sweaty creatures must transfer some of their aroma to the load they carry.

Next on our agenda was to stroll through the trees and look for these Barbary apes. We wandered for a bit, and saw our first one halfway up a tree looking like a furry little Yoda. Soon, we came across a whole band of them being teased by some of the picnickers. They kept trying to feed the monkeys drinks out of plastic bottles and offer them bits of food, screaming if they got to close, but prodding them if they didn’t move. There was also a girl leading a donkey its baby around, offering ppl rides.

When we finally tire of wandering around, we begin to ponder how we are to get back. K is pretty adamant that he will not walk those 13km back. We decide to try asking the vendors. Their initial suggestion is to ask the military ppl in their trucks for a lift back. A gives this a go, while K and I follow her unbelievingly, thinking we’ll be shot. It turns out they’re going further up the mountain, rather than back to the town. Finally, one of the vendors gets in touch with a friend who owns a car (one of the other vendors has a cell) and we negotiate a ride back for 60Dh. We’ve paid more for shorter distances. At this point it is early afternoon.

Next - Aug 20 – Azrou back to Fez

Aug 19 - Azrou Shopping Extravaganza

Azrou is a small town set near cedar forests and mountains, famous for its wood and stone crafts. The town’s name means ‘big rock’ after the natural formation seen in the picture. People who visit here come for the hiking and trees, but it’s not the type of place a tour group would ever take you. The touristy area of the town is set around a big square, surrounded by shops and hotels, with restaurants on an adjacent street.

First stop is for a rather late lunch at the local patisserie. We visit all the shops on the periphery next and somehow get roped into going to one shopkeeper’s house to see his additional wares. K and I are extremely leery of this, as we follow ten steps behind through some side streets – what if this guy is luring us out of the busy streets to be mugged? It turns out all he did want to show us was more wooden things. I buy some little boxes.

The final shop we visit on the square was a carpet shop and we bumped into the same family from Wisconsin who we’d seen the day before at the pottery shop in Fez. Small world, eh? We chatted for a long time, to the increasing irritation of the shop-owners who had been in the middle of selling them carpets. Score one for us – it was OUR TURN to waste a carpet-seller’s time!

We hadn’t even reached the shopping extravaganza part of the day which I referred to in the title. Our final visit was to the government artisinale type thing, where they sold all sorts of touristy items at set prices. It was here that we got the shock of our lives – even POST-bargaining, we were paying pretty excessive amounts for everything we’d been purchasing up to that point. So, the appealing prices, the fact that there were actual marked prices, and the fact that we wouldn’t have to bargain to get the hope of a decent deal, led us to buy more there than we could reasonably hope to fit in our luggage. Plates, boxes, daggers, necklaces, thimbles, mirrors… you name it, we bought it. I limited myself, as I knew I was most constrained in terms of what I could physically carry. I would be traveling by myself through Spain and England later, and I didn’t want to kill myself trying to lug home souvenirs. A and K begin shopping for extra bags.

As we were on our way to find a restaurant, the final prayer session of the day had just ended, and the streets were flooded with ppl leaving the mosque (see pic). As we wended through the crowd, one guy managed to position himself such that he was on one side of me, while his hand was on my other side, where my purse was. I was extremely disturbed, walked away quickly, and gave him a look. This was the near-pickpocketing incident to which I referred to in my blog.

Dinner was rather gross and they tried to rip us off – we really didn’t choose the right restaurant. Plus, we were really sketched out by the fact that random young guys kept joining us at our table and trying to market themselves as hiking guides. We had already asked the hotel to help us find a guide and our Lonely Planet had warned us sufficiently about false guides.

We finished off the night by going to our first internet café in Morocco, and it was here that I posted my first blog since Spain. Returning to the hotel, the owner introduces a prospective guide to us – one of the very ppl that had tried to sell himself to us at dinner. We are extremely distrustful and decide to try the number in LP for official guides, or go it ourselves.

Next - Aug 20 – The long dusty hike to the dead tree

Aug 19 – Trip to Azrou.

Now, to bid farewell to our favourite city of the trip thus far. This was what we had had in mind when we came – the hustle and bustle of an exotic ancient city, but without the excessive hassle. Hassle-freeness makes the simple act of exploring the streets so much more inviting.

It’s ironic that the most hassle-free city of them all should also present the most hassle-filled bus station we encountered our whole trip. The hustlers at the bus station advanced before we had even properly gotten out of the taxi. We tried our best to brush them off, because we wanted to make our own decision, and we didn’t want to have to tip them for doing what we could so easily do ourselves – find the right bus to get on. We found the correct company, bought the tickets, but were finally saddled with one of them as we were told we had to follow them to get to the bus. Argh.

At the bus, we struck up a conversation with a woman (30-something) from the Netherlands who had literally been all over the world. She was backpacking through Morocco with one other person, and was also headed to Azrou to do some hiking. She said that there were hustlers like this everywhere she’s been, it’s a universal thing.

The bus-ride is relatively short and uneventful. Here's a pic A took out the window on the way there - can you tell why it astounds me that 30million ppl eke a living out of this land? Once there, we manage to rebook our hotel-room for one night only, as we decide we will take the overnight train down to Marrakesh rather than waste a day traveling. The room is the nicest we’ve had by far, complete with a balcony view. And now for some shopping!

Next - Aug 19 - Azrou Shopping Extravaganza

Aug 19 – Last Morning in Fes

Checkout was not until noon, so we decided to see the Jewish cemeteries on the other end of town while we were still luggage-free. Muslims, Jews, Berbers and Christians seem to live relatively harmoniously in this country. It is predominantly Muslim, but every town will have its Jewish quarter and synagogue. If memory serves, we only saw one church, in Casablanca.

The cemeteries of these respective groups are very different. We only saw Muslim gravesites from a distance, but they are generally whitewashed boxes sitting above ground, with a flat stone slab marker at one end. In the Jewish cemetery, the gravestones are shaped like rounded prisms, also whitewashed, packed tightly together at the top of a hill. There was a man at the door to the cemetery asking us for money for entry, but we realized once we got in, that he had not actually been working for the cemetery. This puts us into a slightly foul mood. Inside it is very peaceful though – we were the only tourists at that moment.

My first encounter with olive trees was in here. I’m not sure why olive trees in particular were so exciting to me (in a couscous sort of way) when I saw so many other exotic trees on this trip I’d never seen before. Maybe it was the Greek myth connection (Athena’s gift to Athens), or maybe just because I like olives so much. We got to sample some yummy Moroccan olives in their tajines, and they were sometimes set down as the complimentary appetizers.

After the cemetery, we walk through the Jewish quarter (mellah) to see their recently restored synagogue (50Dh donation), including their torah and the hammam (bath) located under the building. Before we taxi off, we also take a peek at the gates to the Fes Palace.

Next - Aug 19 – Trip to Azrou