Morocco '06

Prologue

It had been the hottest summer on record in London, and even as I was preparing to leave Bird in Hand Mews for the train that would take me out to Gatwick, the weatherman on the BBC was ruminating about the glorious autumnal weather 5C above the average temperature for this time of year. Indeed it was, clear blue skies overhead and my next door neighbour, Jo remarked on it as she passed me just before I was to head off to the station. "Why are you leaving all this?" she asked in her broad Aussie accent, motioning towards the sky. "I'm not jealous" she added before retreating into the flat adjacent to mine.

Work in London had been extremely stressful, so it was with great relief that I had finally got the days off work and the flights sorted. Having visited it's North African cousin, Tunisia some months prior, I had developed a curiosity about Morocco which had grown as my good friend, Mel had sent some emails after trucking though there. The time had come I thought, to get out on the road myself again and free from the forced compromises of travelling with others, go where the mood took me.

Due to the pressures of work and a busy social life, the research I'd entered into about my destination was minimal, and I really had no plan of ports of call other than I might like to go to Essouria on the coast and trekking in the Atlas mountains. As I was flying into Marrakech, situated in the middle of the two places, these two goals should have been reasonably easily achieved. My first plan though, was to get into the hills and before that find some other bods that my go with me and share costs.

Friday 13th October

After disembarking the EasyJet flight, I had to endure the ridiculously slow procession that is Moroccan customs, before getting on the bus into town. For a good 30 minutes the bus just sat at the kerb outside the terminal containing only me and my luggage. Eventually four or five others got on and the driver decided that this was enough to constitute a trip, so we departed on the brief ride into town. I got off outside the main square Jemaa el Fnr, the square that Marrakech is most famous for, and found a room for the night for D60.

I wandered into the square, past the spice, orange juice, date and fig stalls and began to realise that I was extremely hungry, which led to my first mistake. I scouted out all the outdoor cafes where one sits in the middle of the square to eat out, and sat down and ordered some food. The guys at the stall brought out some food, and I gobbled it down rapidly, as I tend to do in states of such hunger. I realised that I'd maybe made a mistake when I went to pay my bill and they were a bit coy about letting me depart. Here, have a free tea, 'on the house' was the response in my request for l'addition. Okay, I thought, nice drink of tea.. what's the catch? I found out soon enough, they eventually presented me with the D120 bill -almost 10 pounds! The scam is that you order some things and they bring out a lot more that you've ordered, so if you eat, you pay. Lesson learnt. I walked back towards the hotel after that and discovered that all the streets leading out from the main square look the same! I finally got back to the hotel 30 minutes later, after what should have been a five minute walk. It was very hot, and I was very tired though eventually the heat was not annoying enough to keep me awake and I drifted off to sleep.

This morning, I wandered north of Jemaa el Fnr where I got lost in the souks and not really wanting to purchase anything this early in the trip, decided to look for the tanneries, famous in the area. Luckily for me, a helpful bloke offered to show me the way, he said he didn't need any money as his occupation was a tanner, and sure enough he delivered me at the tannery where I was shown around by a young lad there, who after some time showing me all the places where the hides are beaten and laid out to dry, took me to a friend's leather shop. Fine, I thought, look interested for a while, then leave without making the dreaded mistake (that I have made in the past) of actually saying you like anything. One small hissy fit later, I was free and paid my lad about half the huge amount he was demanding to all of a sudden have the first bloke reappear. He subsequently annoyed me enough warrant a D10 tip, after which he called me a Bad Man and ran off.

After that little scene, I wandered past a shop where a Cedar wood carver/turner was sitting out the front of his shop manufacturing some pieces for a chess set. I was intrigued at his manual 'lathe' and he did some more turning whilst inviting me to watch. Then of course, he started offering me things, and to avoid another confrontation I left, which prompted me to note the small box he popped the little trinket he'd made for me along side a large number of similar trinkets!

I found my way back to the town square and set about finding a group/company that would get me into the Atlas mountains. My guidebook had a couple of suggestions, but I couldnt find them on the ridiculous maps they provided - even after enlisting the help of some tourists with their map. I was out of luck. I set off on foot to the Guilez district in the hope that I might be able to find something there.

I went to a number of travel agents and the best that they could do was to tell me how to get to the hiking departure point at Imlil. One very kind guy, after telling me he couldn't really help me, offered my salutations to the people of New Zealand on my way out the door. I also had a look around the two of the gardens of the town the latter was a walk outside the city walls to the Meeha gardens, whose highlight is a pool in the middle of an olive grove with the Atlas mountains as a backdrop.

I went back to the hotel, had a shower to relieve the chafing that I'd been getting from the sweaty heat that I was experiencing and met a Brazilian guy called Eduardo who was sharing my room. We decided that we needed to get out and find some beer. He had a couple of things to do first and while going out on the streets near the hotel, managed to find a company that would take me to the Atlas mountains with a guide. I took the flyer that he had brought back for me and arranged a tour for D2500 which was quite a bit more than I had expected, but it would never the less enable me to get to places that I couldn't go otherwise. When I got back to the hotel, Eduardo and I caught a petit taxi and headed off in the direction of Guilez a district I'd visited earlier in the day, where we hoped to find something alcoholic in a Muslim country where that kind of thing was not entirely obvious.

Eventually after getting some rather confusing directions from a shop owner, we found 'Burn' a restaurant, but the poster outside indicated that there was a bar and nightclub. The doorman confirmed this, adding that there was 'an orchestra playing in the bar.' The Orchestra turned out to be a band, whose play list was certainly not the longest of cover bands that I've seen in the past. One notable feature of the bar was the number of beautiful girls that were there. On closer examination (which wasn't too difficult a chore) it became obvious that they were all part of the same 'agency', were all drinking red bull from the can, and were on some kind of dance rota, which meant that they would stand up and wriggle around every few minutes when their turn came. From a neutral's point of view, this was not at all unpleasant to watch the blokes minding them were all as big as small houses and gave Eduardo and I menacing looks (as the only guys in t-shirts and jeans) every time a girl walked past.

Our beers were nice and cold, but came at a price, D50 each! We had a look at the nightclub later on, and the terrace on the roof above it, both were very nice, but it was getting late and I had to get some sleep before my 9:00 start the next morning.

Saturday 14th October

I awoke two and a half hours before my alarm to the sounds of the kitchen below my bedroom opening. Part of the problem with living in cheap dorm accommodation apart from the fact that that you might get woken up by your room mates off to catch an early morning flight or bus is that it is usually not the best placed room in the building often beside the main road or above the bar (if there is one). My room was over a kitchen and it is Ramadan which means that food must be eaten before dawn. Still, I managed another few minutes of fitful sleep before I had to get up and be on my way.

I met Younis, my guide and after a little bit of administration, got into a grand taxi arranged by the tour company to take us through to Imlil where we would start hiking. It was a very hot morning, and I decided on buying a couple of bananas before I set off to provide some sustenance as I hadnt had time for breakfast before leaving the hotel. I left my backpack with Omar the cook and he put it on the back of his mule to carry up the track. I carried only my camera as we set off up the hill above Imlil.

On the way up the path a big yellow truck, heavily laden with straw wobbled past looking decidedly unstable on the track. Small patches of straw dotted the path following any potholes in the road as we continued along. At the top, I was greeted by an advertisement for Pepsi in Arabic, and just after this was a small shelter where we stopped for lunch, or more precisely where I had lunch. Ramadan meant that Omar and Younis had to watch me eat. As I was drinking my post meal tea, a Polish couple arrived and we chatted briefly about things while the weather changed from the mild conditions when I sat down, to quite cool and with ominous rain clouds above. The Poles continued on, and we eventually did to - after giving them a half hour head start.

The rain that had looked like coming duly arrived, and we were starting to get a little wet when there was an almighty bang that echoed across the valley. The yellow truck that had tottered past us earlier in the day had fallen off the road and rolled a number of times towards another track below. Straw from its load was strewn all the way down the hillside behind it. We later found out that no one had been hurt, but certainly it had left a great big yellow scar on the landscape.

A few minutes later we passed the Polish couple who were coming in the opposite direction. They were only on a day trip, and weren't prepared for the deluge. Still, the rain stopped a few minutes later and it didn't return for the rest of the day. It certainly didn't get much warmer though, which was a pleasant change from the 30+ temperatures of Marrakech.

We arrived in the village of Ounskra at about 15:30 and I sat there admiring the simplicity of life for the people that live there. It was quite a romantic view as there is no electricity or gas for most of the day and little running water outside the stream that runs down the middle of the valley, still for the purposes of one night of my holiday - it seemed idyllic.

I was some children gathered around the door to my guest house, and went down to write in my diary and watch them, they all swarmed around me demanding my pen, and then money which shattered my nice little illusion of a simple utopia was shattered by a group of children aged about 8!

As it got darker, the lack of electricity proved to be a problem, as we couldn't see dinner until some candles arrived courtesy of a small boy from somewhere in the village. The town's generator kicked in intermittently for the next little while and then I found out that what we'd just had was breakfast (for Ramadan) and that dinner was not for another couple of hours. I was already stuffed!

The traditional meal of Tagine for dinner was superb, with the lack of electricity and my full belly, by 8:30pm it was time for bed!

Sunday 15th

I had a fitful sleep one of the many different things that I'd eaten over the past couple of days hadn't at all agreed with me, and when I got up, a visit to the toilette was desperately required! I performed admirably and noticed upon my departure, that the loo one of the Turkish varieties appeared to be blocked. I tried my best with the manual bucket flush, but nothing doing, so I quickly exited and went back to my room to finish packing and grab a bite of breakfast before we left. I did notice that Younis wasn't looking best pleased. I asked him if he'd had a good nights sleep, and he replied with a resounding No!, but didn't elaborate further.

I assumed he'd seen the dunny and was annoyed about that, so I kept quiet. He then bought some toilet paper off the owner of the Gite I presumed in case he thought that I may need it later in the day, and we set off.

The path was steep and windy and we got lost at least once by not keeping our heads up as we were too busy looking at where our feet were going in order that we didn't fall off the side of the mountain! My tummy was still rumbling quite a bit but every time it did, I had a little swig of water and it seemed to settle down a bit. We made good time though, and as we neared the top, it stared to get very chilly. We reached the top at 3400m above sea level almost an hour ahead of schedule and once over the ridge it was much warmer and easier. After an hour of decent we stopped and it became obvious that the reason Younis was not best pleased was that he had picked up probably the same tummy bug as me, and he raced off to the loo behind some rocks. I still wasn't feeling good, but selfishly it felt good to know that there was someone worse off than me! Omar seemed unaffected and cooked me some tea, vegetables bread and tinned tuna for lunch then while both of them had a little siesta, I tipped a good proportion of it under a rock as my stomach wouldn't allow me to eat any more, and I felt guilty about leaving all the food he had worked so hard to make for me.

After lunch, we descended at breakneck speed along the river valley and at around 14:00 reached our destination for the day, the gite we went to stay at in the village of Tachadirte 2089m above sea level. Younis showed me where the bedrooms, toilet and showers were before immediately diving into the toilet.

When I'd settled in, the owner of the gite brought me some 'Berber Whiskey' which I guessed was some kind of cold tea with honey, and walnuts and after that I had a little nap. Unlike the previous night's accommodation, this place did not have any electricity at all and it was obvious that this was going to be a very early night. I awoke to the minaret across the valley echoing through the mountains calling everyone to prayer. We then settled down for dinner, to the light of device that was a gas cooker and light combination. Dinner courtesy of the seemingly tireless and permanently happy Omar was again superb, but the rumbling in my stomach was continuing and I could only manage a fraction of what my normal appetite would allow. It transpired that Omar had three daughters and through Younis as an interpreter he suggested that I would be a good match for one. A dejected Younis retorted 'What about me!?'. After chatting with Omar and Younis for a couple of hours I repaired at the late time of 9:00 to my room in the deathly quiet of the high atlas mountains.

During the night, I awoke with severe rumblings in my stomach, and being of both tired body and mind necked a couple of immodium tablets and while they appeared to work initially, about two hours later I awoke again and repeated the dose. By 6:30, the chickens outside woke me finally once and for all and I made a mad dash to the toilets however it wasn't the most successful journey I've ever made and I was left more tired and jaded and sans one pair of underpants.

Monday 16th October

We set off in fine sunshine and for my part not in an inconsiderable amount of pain from stomach cramps. The dissipated as the morning continued and as we descended into the valley of our destination Ourika. We arrived there a couple of hours later. On the way down, we passed some small children helping their mother do the laundry in the river. The had no clothes on presumably as the clothes were in the wash though Younis stopped to tell the mother off, motioning to her to put some clothes on them and remarking to me that she was crazy. I felt like telling him to chill out, but Ive got myself into difficult situations before when commenting on religious beliefs, so bit my lip.

As we arrived in Ourika it was noticeable that there had been some heavy rain recently and that some of the river banks had crumbled away. There were piles of silt on the path as we walked down indicating that there had been puddles there only recently. Younis said that it was a really dangerous place to build a village, as it was a meeting place for three river valleys which he proceeded to point them out to me. He was right, there had been two fatal incidents in recent history due to flash floods.

We said our goodbyes to Omar, who had to take his mule back over the path to Imlil and caught a Grand Taxi back to Marrakech, passing through olive groves and pretty hillside villages before hitting the flat again. Once back in the city, I said goodbye to Younis who was still looking very knackered and picked up the gear I'd left at the travel company's offices. The guy at the office gave me directions that he thought would be useful, but I took his advice without consulting my guide, and found after I had arrived that there were only two busses per day, and these left at 9:00 am and 9:00 pm. It was mid afternoon, so I decided to try my luck at the local bus stop where after Id paid for my ticket to Essouria (40) the bloke who showed me where the ticket office was (10) the guy who showed me the bus (10) the luggage space (20) and got on the 15:00 departure which had no room for my backpack or legs and finally departed at 16:15.

I arrived in Essouria at 20:00, tired and jaded the bus had stopped mid-way for a meal to allow a majority of the passengers a chance to eat for the first time since before dawn. I caught a taxi with a German couple Id met on the bus and when we got into the medina, left them to go our separate ways. After that the hassles started, my two first choices from the guidebook were full and as I got more and more tired and more 'helpful' people tried to show me to a 'nice' room I ended up running from them into the Hotel Majestic, which is certainly not majestic and only just a hotel! Still, it was a place to stay for the night and it only cost D90. As I went out to get some food the people who were trying to show me a nice room were replaced with people trying to sell me weed/smoke/kif. I couldn't last very long with all of this going on, so after a short spell headed back to my room and slept like the dead.

Tuesday 17th October

This morning I got up early after a relaxing sleep and climbed up onto the roof terrace in the hope of catching a glimpse my guidebook had described as impressive. Unfortunately, fog had descended over the town and I couldn't even see the sea which I knew was only 100m away. I decided to go out in search of a new place to stay, and to get some breakfast. I found both near the harbour at a hotel called the Beau Rivage where there was a cafe out the front. I stopped for breakfast where I met Gill, a Canadian and a couple of Kiwi girls and as we were chatting the sun finally burnt through the fog, and uncovered a beautiful day. I quickly returned to my old place of residence, got my bags and responded with a definant No! when the guy at reception asked if I wanted to stay another night. I dropped my bags at the new place and set about exploring Essouria, which was now bathed in sunshine. One of the reasons people visit Essouria is because of the quality of windsurfing and kite surfing that is available off the beach there as a result of steady winds coming off the Atlantic Ocean. I went down to have a look and have a wander down the beach. It was a nice walk and I passed all the kite surfers and camel trekkers and associated hawkers on my way to where the river cuts across the beach and not wanting to risk getting my camera wet, turned back for the return trip.

I was on my way back from the beach when I ran into the Kiwi girls I'd met earlier in the day. They were on their way to catch a bus back to Marrakech and I had lunch and a brief chat with them before they headed off and I continued my exploration. I walked through some of the maze of souks and then up onto the 'Remparts', the fortifications surrounding the medina where a collection of Spanish cannons sit pointing out to sea. I watched an English family farewell a local family and the English mother trying to offer a petit gateaux to the local's child, obviously forgetting the constraints of Ramadan. The local father did not want to appear ungrateful but obviously at the same time tried to preserve his religious sensibilities. He accepted it on the child's behalf and said that she could have it later.

After a short rest back at the hotel, I decided to go out and see if I could find a place to get a beer. I needed something to do at night in any case, and so I went to La Taros, a cafe/bar with a roof terrace that spectacularly looks over the harbour and more importantly served pints of beer!

Wednesday 18th October

Breakfast this morning at the same place as yesterday was just as chilled out, but a little cooler as again some fog came in over the town. I lazed about and met Alex and Jules, an English couple who had been suffering from food poisoning for most of the time they'd been in Morocco resulting in huge amounts of weight loss and tiredness. We went for a coffee and watched the kite surfers after breakfast, and afterwards wandered through some of the souks. We discussed how fragile human trust is, I told them that if I hadn't been ripped off so many times in Marrakech, I would have given all the people I'd met in Essouria a much fairer deal, and they both agreed. People on the coast had generally been nice, but despite this I had been unable to take them at face value as a result of what had happened on my trip previously. It was quite sad really.

At dusk, I wandered out to the fish markets, and was the results of the days catch being brought in by locals and watched by tourists. Its the only part of the day when I wasn't being approached by someone wanting to extract money from me in some kind of way. The seagulls filled the air, and I was impressed by the size of them. They were almost mini-albatrosses!

After that I joined the crowds watching the sun disappear into the Atlantic Ocean and reflected on the fact that the next landmass in that direction was America and how I'd probably watched a number of sunrises from South America back in this direction.

Thursday 19th October

After yet another excellent sleep, I got up and as part of my now daily ritual, made my way downstairs to the cafe to have breakfast. A group travelling with the tour company 'Exodus' was there eating the same time as me. I chatted with various members of the tour for a while before departing for the beach. It appeared to have rained overnight again, and the sand was wet, so I perched on the wall separating the beach from the footpath and watched all the people staying in hotels by the beach wander towards the medina and all the people inside the medina wandering towards the beach. There wasnt very much wind, so no kite surfers to watch, but it was enjoyable none the less.

Over this trip I had been listening to an Australian singer/songwriter'd CD, the Nathan Kaye disc is something that Is been meaning to listen to for quite some time. It was refreshing to listen to music that although five years old was different to the usual kind off stuff served up on the radio, or in fact on the other CD's I'd brought with me, which included the Killers, Razerlight and the Chemical Brothers.

After a morning on the beach, I drew in a deep breath and turned back towards the souks with the intention of making some purchases. I wasnt really in the mood for bartering, I came away with a couple of trinkets, but couldn't find the leather poof that I was after. Perhaps I could wait until Marrakech.

The rest of the day I spent just roaming around aimlessly. I tried lying down at the hotel, but felt restless, though not enough to go out for too long. I checked my email but was too apathetic to write any replies to new messages, so returned to the hotel to sit there in a state of melancholy. I then realised that I probably wasnt quite over the tummy bug that Id picked up in the mountains. It wasnt bad, certainly wasnt causing any major concern, but there was certainly an element of pain. I decided that this was the cause of my problems, and lay down for a bit to rest.

The melancholy feeling is that one that drives travellers when they are on the road by themselves to get up and get back on the road again. You're not doing yourself any good here, hit the road meet some new people!. That's been my motivation many times in the past. Here though, I was only on holiday and I did need a chance to relax. Also, more practically, I'd already booked my ticket back to Marrakech.

Friday 20th October

I got up early and wandered down to the beach which was empty on a clear, calm morning. I walked on it alone except for a few westerners going for an early morning jog. There was barely a noise- even the waves were hardly making a sound as they lapped against the shore.

I returned to the hotel for breakfast where the Exodus trip was preparing for their trip to Marrakech. I said my goodbyes, and went back into the souks where I did manage to find a poof and some art for my flat in London before my check out time. I left my backpack with Ahmed, who Id got to know quite well over the past couple of days, at reception and wandered back down to the beach where I sat and watched people walk past. The whole scene was beckoning me to stay. It's warm, relaxed, nice here.. don't go back to London, it will be cold there work will suck, and there will be no sun. The gloomy mood from the previous day had obviously passed.

Saturday 21st October

After a nice day at the beach, and a pleasant coach ride back to Marrakech, I started wandering around Guilez looking for a hotel to stay in for my last night in the country. The first two in my guide book had either gone up in price terribly, or disappeared entirely! I decided to cut my losses and as it was still early, walk into the centre of town. I found the Central Palace Hotel easily, checked in without hassle and went for a dinner at a restaurant overlooking the mayhem of Jemma el Fnr.

Following a really good nights sleep, I got up this morning and wandered into the pedestrianised zone near the square and got some breakfast. Avoiding all the scams they tried to unload on me, I spent a reasonable amount, and arranged a price with a petit taxi to take me to the airport where I arrived without any difficulty. After checking the monitors for my departure time, there was no Easyjet flight showing on the monitor, after asking three different people and waiting alone for a decent length of time, I discovered that the Air France flight to Paris queue was the one I should have been waiting in, and the line extended almost out of the airport! I ended up sharing my luggage allowance with Liz, a lady in the queue next to me, and whose luggage was over the allowance and we managed to get through the rest of the check-in process without any other incident.

Liz and I were the last onto the flight, making the most of the lovely day before we had to head back to the UK and during the trip back shared a couple of beers as we talked about our experiences of travelling. It had been up and down personally and actually, but it had been certainly a memorable trip.