Marrakesh Express (June 27-June 30 and July 6-July 8, 2011)

We were in Marrakesh twice during our time in Morocco: June 27-30 after Tinerhir and again July 6-8 before our flight to Rome. One of the first things we noticed about Marrakesh was that there were many more tourists here than anywhere else we visited. This meant that prices were reasonable, hotels had amenities like wi-fi, and that Nora felt modest in a knee-length skirt and tank top next to the many inappropriately dressed European tourists. It also meant that shopkeepers and restaurant workers were very aggressive. Every time we walked past a shop (which was almost constantly) the shopkeeper shouted something like "come see my shop – just for looking," while actually showing interest in a shop resulted in a firm arm grab and an attempt to physically pull us in. In the main square of the Medina, the Djemaa el Fna, food stall workers danced in front of us trying to block our path long enough to get us to look at a menu, a woman selling henna tattoos grabbed Nora’s hand and squeezed henna on it before she could yank it away, and street musicians demanded money if we stood anywhere near their performances.

All that said, it was easy enough to escape this by getting away from the Djemaa el Fna. One afternoon we braved the stifling Marrakesh heat to visit the Saadian Tombs (tombs of the families ruling Morocco from 1554-1669) in the southern part of the Medina. Another we ventured into the northern Medina, past the major tourist souks, and found ourselves the only tourists walking among the workshops of leather and wood workers and metal smiths crafting their goods over torches and small, extremely hot, fireplaces. We also stumbled upon a tremendously crowded leather auction where hundreds of fresh hides from the tanneries were for sale.

Even the Djemaa el Fna became manageable once we learned to move quickly away from the musicians and laugh off the food stall workers. It was in this square that we felt most in the center of Morocco. If the country could be boiled down to one place, this would be it. There are snake charmers and men with monkeys on leashes; women and children begging; street musicians and performers of all kinds; men from other parts of Africa selling their goods with demonstrations involving live birds, ostrich eggs, lizard skins, and other exotic props (we could never figure out exactly what they were selling); people flying by on scooters and mopeds; and hundreds of people, like us, taking it all in. Food stalls set up in the square each evening also sold all types of Moroccan food: 40 cent Harira (bean and noodle soup), goat head stew, grilled meats, pastillas, and snail stew. Our favorite stalls were those selling orange juice: squeezed fresh and only 50 cents, we often stopped for more than one glass a night.

On our last full day here we ventured into the rug souk and had a truly Moroccan experience: rug buying. Pointing to one small rug sent the shopkeeper deep into the piles, throwing rugs all around us at our feet. Eventually we found a small rug we liked and the haggling began, with both sides writing down offers on a pad of paper until eventually he accepted our offer. On completing the sale the shopkeeper brought us mint tea, and told us about the rug souk, his shop (his grandfather first owned the shop), and excitedly showed us his favorable write-up in Frommer’s guidebook. Like all Moroccans we met, he was excited that one of us had a "Moroccan" name. It turns out Nora, which means "light" in Arabic, is a common Arabic name, and everyone we met had a sister, a cousin, or a niece with this name. The name, plus Nora’s haggling skills, led the shopkeeper to claim that she must be part Berber.


Click the photo below for our Marrakesh photo album.

Cascades d'Ouzoud (July 5-July 6, 2011)

We squeezed in a short trip to the Cascades d'Ouzoud, three hours northeast of Marrakesh, before heading back to prepare for our flight to Rome on July 8th. As in Imlil, we were looking forward to camping but found the reality underwhelmed our expectations and we ended up pitching our tent, alongside several others, on a bench in the slope behind a cafe.

The falls themselves were spectacular, falling from several points along the ridge (thanks to some modification by man) into a small pool, and then falling again into a series of pools where visitors (almost exclusively Moroccan) swam and played along the water’s edge. Barbary apes are also common here, and we encountered the small apes fairly frequently. In the evening on our first day, we encountered a group along the trail taking handouts from Moroccans (despite being just under the sign detailing why you should not feed the monkeys which are becoming dependent on humans).

On our second day we hiked away from the crowds farther down the river and found a small pool to swim in. The water was icy but clear and refreshing. Only being so far away from others did Nora feel comfortable getting into her swimsuit (the Moroccan women weren’t swimming – instead watching in full dresses and head scarves while the men swam), and even then she kept her shorts on.  We dried quickly in the warm, dry air, and watched several locals do daring dives into the same pool (Moroccan men seem to be very good swimmers), before climbing back out of the valley. At the top we met two women from England who were looking to share a taxi back to Marrakesh. Though it was a little bit of a splurge for us, we agreed, and spent the 3 hour trip in relative luxury (compared to the cramped, sweaty bus ride to the cascades).

Click the photo below for our Cascades d'Ouzoud photo album.

Essaouira: Castles Made of Sand (July 2-July 5, 2011)

Essaouira, on the Atlantic Coast, was recommended by every traveler that we met. It has the reputation of being the most laid back town on the coast, and also the windiest. Our introduction to Essaouira began on the bus when throngs of touts, offering hotels and riads, rushed onto the bus as soon as it arrived preventing the passengers from disembarking. The bus driver barked at them to get off, but eventually threw his hands up in defeat when they began blocking passengers' access to luggage.

Essaouira's medina was quite picturesque: whitewashed buildings surrounded by 18th century French ramparts. Despite our experience at the bus station, in town there was very little hassle and shopkeepers were much less aggressive than they had been in Marrakesh. We spent one day exploring the town – the ramparts, the fish market, the souks – and another walking along the beach. On this second day, we braved 25 mph winds (and the ensuing sand storms) to reach the ruins of an old fort, Bordj el Berod, crumbling just at the ocean's edge. According to our guidebook, locals claim this fort was the inspiration for Jimi Hendrix's "Castles Made of Sand" who, they say, played shows in town in the late 1960s. In reality, our book points out, Jimi Hendrix visited Morocco for a total of a week in 1969, more than a year after "Castles Made of Sand" was released. (Still, it's a nice story, playing into the town's laid back hippie vibe).

For the remainder of the day, we planned to stay at the beach, relaxing, swimming and sunbathing (a nice way, we thought, to celebrate the 4th of July), however, this quickly came to an end when the sandstorms proved too strong. Instead, we headed back into town to celebrate the 4th with a hamburger (a little small, a little squished), fries, and a Coca-Cola; and then with a couple of beers (the only alcohol we had during our three weeks in Morocco).

Click the photo below for our Essaouira photo album.

The High Atlas (June 30-July 2, 2011)

Following our visit to Todra Gorge, we spent three days in Marrakesh (more on that in a later post) before heading north by bus to the village of Imlil in the High Atlas Mountains. At an elevation of nearly 6,000 feet, it was a refreshing break from the stifling 110 degree heat of Marrakesh, and with fewer tourists the village was quieter and calmer.

We had hoped to camp in Imlil, but the "camping" option listed in our guidebook turned out to be "pitching a tent on the roof of a hotel." Instead, the owner let us sleep in an unused and unfurnished banquet hall on the top floor (the Moroccan rugs on the floor were more comfortable than roof tiles). There we met Guillaume, an enthusiastic young traveler from France, who talked us into hiking with him part of the way to Toubkal, the highest peak in North Africa (about 13,600 ft), the next day.

First, however, we set out on an afternoon hike to a nearby pass for a great overlook of the mountains and nearby villages. Along the way, we watched a group of boys play soccer in the road (making for a very narrow and steeply inclined pitch), were passed by countless Berber lorries (vans/buses) packed with locals (including those riding on the roof) en route to their distant villages, and had to decline the sales pitch of a moped-mounted fake geode salesmen. At the pass, the views were fantastic and we had the place to ourselves until a group of young boys showed up and became smitten with Nora and repeatedly shouted “I love you!”

The next morning, we hiked south out of town toward Toubkal with Guillaume. The trail follows the Mizane River until the tiny village of Sidi Chamarouch, at which point it climbs steeply, leaving the river behind. Along the way, we met another trekker, Maartin from Holland, who joined us on our ascent.

The views from the trail – down to the Mizane, up to the peaks – were spectacular and the air was crisp and fresh, a stunning contrast to anything we had yet to encounter in this desert country. We hiked with Guillaume and Maartin nearly as far as the Toubkal refuge, where they would spend the night before climbing the final 1,000 meters to the Toubkal summit the following morning. After completing so much of the hike, we were a little sad not to be continuing on to the peak, but still thought that the portion of the trail that we did was well worth it.

Click the photo below for our High Atlas photo album.

The Todra Gorge: Rock the Kasbah (June 25-June 27, 2011)

On our way from the the Erg Chebbi dunes to Marrakesh we stopped for two days in Tinerhir, a medium-sized town surrounded by barren, rocky landscapes that aren’t that different from something you might find in parts of Arizona. The attraction here was the Todra Gorge and the Todra palmery – a palm-fringed stretch of desert oasis along the Todra River. The town itself was a pleasant place with friendly people and a lively open-air market, though we found we couldn't walk too far without someone trying to offer us a hotel, transportation, or a guide to the Gorge.

The lush palmeries line the Todra River as you head to the Gorge. The contrast between the intense green vegetation of these oases and the barren mountainous landscape that surrounds them is stunning. There are also a number of small villages with amazing “ksour” and “kasbahs”, fortified mud and clay structures. We found that the condition of these structures varied widely, with some abandoned and eroding back into the river, and some still occupied by families.

The Todra Gorge, which at its best is only about 10 meters wide between 300-meter tall sheer cliff walls, is spectacular. We visited on a Sunday and found that the Gorge is a popular hangout spot for Moroccans who picnicked, played music, and swam throughout the day. We walked through the Gorge and then followed a hiking trail up to a pass that gave us a nice view back toward the Todra River. The hike back was made more dramatic by dark clouds and thunder that threatened rain as we descended (luckily the rain never really developed beyond a few sprinkles). On the hike we encountered a goat herder and his goats, which filled the hillside with their bleats, and a Berber woman in traditional woolen clothes and cheap, broken plastic shoes that didn't fit who was making the climb with her donkey. We both felt a little silly, by comparison, in our hiking shoes and quick-dry fabrics.

After descending the trail and walking back out of the Gorge and into the palmeries, we decided to walk the 15 km back into town and enjoy the beautiful views along the way; however, after about 10 km, we were a little hot and a little thirsty, and gave in to the temptation to hitchhike a ride from a local back to town. Despite the language barrier, we shared a nice ride and our driver even pulled over at a scenic overlook to let us soak in the view.

Click the photo below for our Tinerhir and Todra Gorge photo album.

Merzouga and the Erg Chebbi Dunes (June 23-June 25, 2011)

After a long bus ride from Meknes and an overnight stay in Er Rachidia, we reached the small town of Merzouga (about 300 miles southeast of Meknes near the Algerian border). The area around Merzouga is considered the "Pre-Saharan" desert (although it felt very real Saharan to us), and the town is the gateway to the Erg Chebbi sand dunes, which is the main attraction of the area.

Because of the extreme heat (it hovered around 105-110 degrees during midday) our time in Merzouga was short and centered around an overnight camel trek into the dunes. With four other guests and two Berber guides (the indigenous people of Northern Africa) we headed toward the dunes at dusk, rode for about an hour and a half to camp, and spent the evening under the stars eating tajines, drinking mint tea (which Moroccans call "Berber Whiskey"), and talking with our Portuguese, French, and Moroccan companions. It was a very musical group and we got to listen to our guides play Gnaoua music, one of the Portuguese guests sing, and the Moroccan guest play classical guitar. In the morning, we rose early, watched the sun rise, rode back to Merzouga, and then were on our way to the next locale.

Click the photo below for our Erg Chebbi album.

Meknes, Volubilis, and Moulay Idriss (June 19-June 22, 2011)

Meknes, about 60 kilometers west of Fes, was meant only to be a stopover, allowing us to explore the Roman ruins at Volubilis (more on that later), before continuing south. We found, however, that our hotel was peaceful and the city was much more relaxed than the hustle-and-bustle of Fes, so we spent a full day exploring its Medina.

On our first night in town, we encountered an enthusiastic pro-Morocco crowd parading down the street singing, dancing, playing music and waving Moroccan flags. We followed them to the city’s main square (Place El Hadim), where a large concert was going on. The next day, we explored the Meknes medina. Much smaller than Fes, the Medina markets were easier to navigate, and because the city sees far fewer tourists, we didn’t experience the hustle we had in Fes and goods seemed to be less expensive. We even found a salt souk, where there was a makeshift lean-to with some large salt rocks laying under it that were being broken down into progressively smaller pieces until they were hand ground into a fine powdered salt that was being sold by several different dealers.

We spent the next day exploring the Roman ruins at Volubilis and the small town of Moulay Idriss. Volubilis was one of the Roman Empire’s farthest outposts, although Roman rule lasted only about 200 years. A major olive oil producing region, Volubilis and the surrounding area also apparently supplied Rome with the majority of its exotic animals (namely lions, used in Roman games) and during Rome’s short reign, lions, elephants, and bears were all wiped out from the region.

The site is known for the well preserved mosaics in many of the homes, and some of these were magnificent. The opulence of many of the town’s inhabitants is clear in the ruins of solariums, extravagant baths, and colonnaded entry ways. Despite the site’s proximity to Fes, there were few other tourists so we had it largely to ourselves as we explored. We both thought the ruins, particularly the mosaics, were spectacular and that perhaps closer to Rome, this site would be teaming with tourists.

Moulay Idriss is one of the holiest sites in Morocco, founded by a great-grandson of Mohammad, and is a site of pilgrimage for Moroccan Muslims. As non-Muslims we aren’t allowed to enter any of the mosques or religious buildings in the country, but we still thought this was a nice place for a short walk. The town is perched on two steep hills towering over a river valley and the surrounding plains. From the top of the town the views into the valley and back toward Volubilis were lovely. Few non-Muslim tourists seem to visit here, so the people, particularly the children, were friendly and interested in what we were doing. A group of young girls took to Patrick and tried to practice their French on him yelling “bonjour!” and asking him his name.

Click the photo below for our Meknes, Volubilis, and Moulay Idriss album.

Fes: Funky Cold* Medina (June 16-June 19, 2011)

Our introduction to Morocco began after exiting the plane on the tarmac in Fes. The new looking airport was clean and inviting and surrounded by palm trees (who doesn’t love a palm tree lined runway?) and it was definitely hot. Inside things were less cheery. The customs line moved painfully slow and the Moroccan police detained an “unruly passenger” from the flight, leading to lots of shouting and arguing (we never did figure out what happened). After getting our passports stamped, the guards wanted to search both of our bags. They were most interested in the books we brought with us, looking at them carefully, and slowly flipping through the pages. We don’t know what they thought they would find. They were also concerned about Patrick’s tent and the tent poles. We didn’t know the French word for tent, but Nora did her best “circumlocution” (as her AP French teacher would call it), and finally the guards were satisfied that it was something used for camping, either a “parasol” or a “sac de couchant” (it was neither), and let us pass. The bulky guy next to us who decided to bring his protein powder in large, clear plastic bags instead of its original container looked like he was going to have a much harder time making it past the guards as we left (note to travelers: it is never a good idea to pack large bags of white powder in your carry-on).

Fes’s primary claim to fame is that it’s Medina (old Arab quarter - as opposed to the newer Ville Nouvelle built by the French) is the one of the most complete medieval cities in the Arab world. Built as early as the 8^th century, the Medina is a huge grid-less maze of shops and markets (souks) hidden away along narrow lanes. It is easy to get lost inside the Medina (and we often did), and most of our time in Fes was spent wandering inside the Medina walls. There are shops and souks for everything under the sun. Beyond the spice and leather markets that are marked on maps, we also found a cell phone and electronics souk and a flip-flop souk, among many others.  As you wander, locals often offer to take you to a view of one of two leather tanneries inside the Medina (the tanneries are open air and you can get a good view of them from the roofs of many buildings), or suggest a good restaurant. Occasionally someone will offer to guide you through the Medina, not taking the hint that you don’t want his service and walking with you until you firmly tell him to go away. On one occasion, when we decided to detour down a narrow side path, a seemingly friendly boy offered to show us to the tanneries (which we had already seen).  He began following us, and when we declined his offer several times, he began yelling anti-American epithets at us and eventually physically blocked our path, forcing us back onto the main road. With that exception, however, Moroccans have been pleasant and friendly, often saying “Enjoy your time in Morocco” as you walk by. [And, as of this post date, this is still an isolated incident].

One of the most glaringly different things about Fes (and the rest of Morocco) is the call to prayer. Five times a day (dawn, midday, mid-afternoon, sunset, and nightfall), from the minaret of each mosque blares a recorded message/chant calling everyone to prayer. In Fes, where our guidebook suggested there were 365 minarets, this call came from every direction. From our room we could clearly hear at least two different recordings, playing simultaneously, and echoes of others around the Medina. From a distance (we hiked up to a hill above the old town one evening to watch the sunset) the call to prayer was both surreal and serene. At close range, and at 5 in the morning, however, it was a bit jarring (particularly on our first morning).

Click the photo below for our Fes photo album.

*Disclaimer: there is absolutely nothing cold about Fes in June.