Cascades d'Ouzoud and the Merrakech Express, Day Fifteen

Our last full day in Morocco begins early as we check out of the hotel and load into our hired van with Khalid acting as our leader. Although the trip from Marrakech to the Cascades d'Ouzoud appears to be short on a map, the narrow winding road doesn't afford a short drive. The trip actually takes a few hours not counting comfort stops. Kate and I know the last train out of Merrakech leaves at three o'clock this afternoon and this longer thn expected trip is giving us concern about our return to Casablanca. The morning drive out of Marrakech is quiet and gives many of my companions a chance to grab a little more sleep while Kate and I watch the terrain grow more rugged. We're once again entering the High Atlas mountains and the painfully slow drive is tempered by the beautiful scenery outside the window.

Eventually we arrive at the tiny village of Tanaghmeilt which appears t be mainly improvised tents and stalls catering to the stream of tourists. We pass the many merchants down the steep trail to the falls. Today is not busy and we find few other visitors as we arrive at the falls. Our vantage point is about midway down the falls on a small ledge overlooking one of three of the falls' drops. The sides of the gorge seem scoured with mud and we later learn the heavy rains we met in the desert hit this area hard, washing out much of the upstream settlements and trails and scouring this gorge. Well below our tiny vantage point we can see the bottom of the falls and the forest lining the deep gorge, a narrow and steep trail leads down to the bottom but Kate and I are concerned for the time and choose not to venture down the long trail. Choosing to join most of the rest of the group we follow the trail to the top of the falls and find a scene of muddy devastation on the rim of the gorge. Structures, trails, trees and vegetation have been washed away by the flood. We return to the village and visit a small tent housing a creperie with a young woman cooking crepes and stop for a bite. Following our quick lunch we return to the van for the agonizingly long ride back to Merrakech with Khalid and our driver assuring Kate and me we will make our train. As we approach the hotel at 2:30 to drop off our companions, we say our goodbyes all too briefly as the clock ticks down to our departure.

We arrive at the station and purchase our tickets, the language barrier proving to not be too much of an obstacle. As the gruff agent hands us our tickets and tells us what I think is our platform we start our mad dash to the waiting train and arrive with minutes to spare. We quickly board the Marrekech Express on our way back to Casablanca and are happy to discover adjoining seats. We settle in for the three hour trip to Casa Voyagers Station, at least what we thought would be a three hour trip. As we rode the train through the beautiful arid landscape we pass through several storms as we stop at small villages along the way. Soon it's getting dark, we're four hours in on our three hour trip and concern starts to feel genuine as we are still in the desolate terrain. I try asking some of our non-English speaking traveling companions if this is the train to Casa and am reluctantly assured by one traveler that this is the train to Casablanca, at least I think that's what he says. The time is passing but the scenery is seemingly the same and slowly I start to dread what we may be in for if this is the wrong train. As it nears eight o'clock we are arriving in a city and the helpful traveler gives me an assuring nod that we are near our station.

Within the hour we arrive at Casa Voyagers Station and quickly hire a petite-taxi to carry us back to the Hotel Guynemere, where we stayed at the beginning of our trip. We are recognized by the staff who welcome us back and I arrange tomorrow's transport to the airport. Kate and I quickly drop our bags in our room and head out for dinner. We at first look for a nice restaurant but after being hit on by would-be culinary guides trying to get a few coins from us for them showing us a restaurant, we shake them and visit a small diner. The proprietor welcomes us and we order dommer flat bread sandwiches with fries and drinks, not fancy but delicious and filling. We negotiate our way back to the hotel and relax in bed, enjoying just lying down for a long time before falling falling into a restful sleep.

The next morning we pack, grab a quick bite at the hotel before catching our ride to the airport. As we snail through Casablanca's morning rush hour, we learn that our driver and navigator love Morocco but dislike Casablanca as much as we do. We arrive at the airport and are surprised to find we get dropped off outside the airport's gates so our driver can avoid paying the entrance fee. Dashing across parking lots we arrive at our terminal and find the first of five security checkpoints we endure. Our luggage passes through an X-ray screener, our passports cheched and we are searched a first time. We grab a quick bite and drink of water before the announcement of the next security check. Surprised, we find the same two screeners asking for our passports and again searching our luggage, then the same screeners begin the third screening process, checking our passports and luggage. The most comical part of this repetition is that each time we pass, the same screener remarks how much better my passport picture with my mustached face looks and tells me I should grow it back, yes, he has a mustache. We ask a fellow passenger if this is usual security and they reply with an exasperated 'yes'. We soon are on the tarmac and load onto buses to make a three or four mile journey a quarter mile across the taxiway. We board the plane to New York where we have an agonizing eight hour layover before returning to Norfolk at midnight. Fortunately I have the next day off but Kate isn't as lucky and has to return to work the following morning.

Aside from the disappointing visits to Casablanca, Morocco proved to be a beautiful and varied country. Everyday would reveal totally diverse scenery and most everywhere we went the people were very proud and friendly. The country has high illiteracy, poverty and unemployment rates which contribute to the pervasive panhandling virtually everywhere in the country. We also found cats seam to occupy every corner of this country, both in the cities and in the small villages but I believe I only saw three dogs the entire visit. Our leader Mohamed and our many guides made the trip special along with the many people we met who were very eager to share a small part of their country and heritage with us.
I look forward to returning at some point in the future.

Ma'assalama
مع السلامة
Peace be with you

Marrakech, Day Fourteen

The entire group descends on the hotel restaurant for breakfast almost in unison today and following breakfast we're back out on Marrakesh's streets heading to the Medina. We retrace the previous nights trek back to the Jemaa el-Fna and find an entirely different scene. All the previous night's tables, kiosks and people are all gone. Last night's bustling plaza filled with numerous kitchens, roped off dining areas and countless street performers has been transformed into a vast,starkly empty plaza, most notable is the absence of trash anywhere within the Jemaa el-Fna. We find a lonely man with a performing monkey and a snake charmer dot the vast near-empty area as we cross.

Soon we join our guide and begin a tour of the vast bustling souk beyond the Jemaa el-Fna. Passing crowds of people, mules and mopeds on the busy streets, we visit stalls with merchants peddling wares of all sorts, from music and instruments, to clothing, leather lamps, to spices and food. We also visit art museums and Quaranic schools. We also visit ancient ruins being excavated within the Medina. As morning grows late, our tour comes to an end and we decide to meet at a restaurant overlooking the Jemaa el-Fna as we split to explore the Medina on our own. Kate and I slowly make our way back toward the plaza as we browse the stalls. As we arrive at the Jemaa el-Fna we discover we're the first back and find an upstairs table not only large enough to accommodate the entire group but offering a commanding view of the plaza. The group slowly trickles to our table and dining decisions are made, the conversation turns again to how lucky we were to have such a compatible group. Mohamed once again remarks how we're the best group he's had but we all assume he tells this to every group, though I'm aware our group's chemistry is more comfortable than any other group I've been a part of in the past and others mention the same.

With a hearty lunch consumed we're again out on the plaza as Kate and join up with several others to trek though a different part of the souk toward the Royal Palace and cemetery. This time we're finding our own way through the narrow streets to our destination without the luxury of a guide and easily traverse the Medina and arriving without incident at our destination. We soon find we're not the only tourists here this afternoon as hordes of other visitors are flocking to the cemetery entrance. Following our brief queue we enter the cemetery, passing through the narrow gates we enter a courtyard garden surrounded by tall stone buildings. The courtyard snakes past and around the buildings and is dotted with tombstones and crypts but with lush gardens throughout. Kate and I check the entire grounds before making our exit.

Upon leaving, Kate and I split from the remaining group and decide to walk to the Ville-Nouvelle. As the afternoon grows late, the cramped narrow streets soon widen and give way to grand avenues as we enter the provincial area of Marrakech. As we stroll up the avenue we pass many cars and pedestrians as well as horses and carriages and mules and carts making their way up the road. We pass an obvious KFC restaurant but the signage is in Arabic and soon decide a visit to the Moroccan McDonald's might be interesting and fill an empty spot from the long past lunch. It's funny how McDonald's is just as unappetising wherever in the world you happen to let down your guard long enough to visit one. Following our unsatisfying snack, we return to the hotel to relax and freshen up before dinner.

As the sun sets we all meet in the lobby for drinks and meet one of Mohamed's fellow guides, Khalid. We ask Khalid about a visit to the nearby Cascades d'Ouzoud waterfall and says he would be happy to lead us there and can obtain a driver. Soon Pete and Len show up in the lobby wearing their Jalabas, many of us return to our rooms to grab some the native garb we've acquired on the trip and meet back in the lobby. Turbans and local blouses soon join the Jalabas in the hotel lobby as Mohamed tells us tonight will be a special last dinner together. We again walk the streets of Marrakech toward the Jemaa el-Fna but this time stop short of the plaza and climb a short set of steps, led by the restaurant owner, to our table. We sit at a long table on an upstairs patio. Overlooking the entrance to the Jemaa el-Fna, the grand minaret of the Marrakech Mosque across the street, we enjoy each other's company for one last dinner together. Following dinner we take a quick stroll through the Jemaa el-Fna before leisurely strolling back toward our hotel with a detour to the nearby club for a nightcap. As we enjoy beers, wine and cocktails, we're soon joined by a belly dancer who coaxes us all to make embarrassing spectacles of ourselves by joining her in dance. The performer doesn't seem to mind how we unintentionally but completely ruin her dance with our total lack of talent. Too soon the night grows late and reluctantly we return to the hotel to call it a night.

The Atlantic Coast to the Jemaa el-Fna, Day Thirteen

Rising this morning is more relaxed as we will remain in Essaouira half the day before departing for Merrakech after lunch. Kate and I still decide to grab an early breakfast and hit the streets. We first follow the now quiet streets toward the water and take an early walk on the beach. We then return to the harbor and tour the seaside stone battlements before joining the building crowds in the Medina's streets. We visit many other shops including surf shops 'manned' by Muslim women in traditional garb. We again lunch on pizza with an ice cream dessert and return to the beach for a stroll. The now busy beach has filled with swimmers, sunbathers and kite fliers.

Sadly we return to the hotel to grab our bags, hike the streets before arriving at the bus station. Mohamed buys our tickets, we board the bus and bid farewell to this great city. On the road to Marrakesh we make a quick stop for snacks and use of facilities before continuing. Even though this is our shortest days' drive, the later start has pushed our arrival in Marrakesh after dark. The Nouvelle's streets are packed long before we enter the city and the final push into the bus station seems to take forever in the heavy traffic. Finally exiting the bus we again play the petite-taxi game and the group soon rejoins at our hotel in the Ville-Nouveux. Following the room key lottery in the hotel lobby, everyone finds their room and freshens up for dinner. We then head back to the lobby for a quick drink before dinner.

Leaving the hotel on foot, we soon make our way to the famed Jemaa el-Fna, Marrakesh's marketplace. A hike of about twenty to thirty minutes, mostly following the Medina's walls, sees our arrival at this almost otherworldly scene. In the mayhem we find cars and taxis, horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians all converging on this vast square. A huge smoke column rises above what seems like hundreds of food vender's hawking their goods, with roped off seating areas beside their make-shift kitchens with hundreds of people milling about. Snake-charmers, gambling, boxing matches involving children, musicians of all types, whirling dervishes and trained monkey shows are only a small facet of the entertainment here. Mohamed quickly ushers us through the spectacle for our dinner and is soon sidetracked from his intended destination by a gastronomy entrepreneur. This man offers Mohamed a better deal than his intended cook and we settle in for dinner. We start with mint tea and share multiple courses of entrees I can't even describe, much less name, most of which was enjoyable.

Following the melange of dinner courses, we explore the crowded market looming beyond the numerous food kiosks and are surprised to find the tents and ramshackle merchant's stalls conceal a labyrinth of alleys and sub floors of vender's hawking their "great bargains". One crowded alley gives way to another and to another and soon the chaotic scene starts to look the same the further we travel. The stalls are brightly lit and it almost seems like sunglasses are needed. Tiring of the endless stalls of merchants, we make our way back to the plaza and the brightness of the stalls quickly gives way to the almost complete darkness of the plaza.

Several 'entertainers' have gas lanterns lighting their shows and we soon find even a quick glance at an showman will garner a tirade of insults if no coin is dropped to the entertainer. It's also soon apparent that the entertainers enlist others to 'shake-down' the crowd to elicit more coin flow. As this disappointing scene unfolds we discover Natasha has disappeared and devise a strategy to find her. Everyone splits into groups of two and searches predetermined areas, meeting back after about 20 minutes of searching. After our search, we regroup and happily find Natasha is again within our party. Tiring of the marauding groups in the Jemaa el-Fna, we head back toward the hotel and visit a nearby club for late night drinks. After a few relaxing drinks and conversation we return to our hotel and call it a night.

Essaouira, Day Twelve

After rising and showering for the new day, Kate and I find we're first to breakfast. We settle in for pastry as the rest of the group trickle into the cafe. Following breakfast, we relax at the hotel as we wait for our guide to meet us. Soon enough we're on the streets of Essaouira and we move toward to the protected harbor. Our guide explains how in the early 16th century, the Portuguese King Manuel I ordered the fortress built and four years later fell to the local resistance. In the 18th century, Mohammed III using captured engineers, rebuilt the city's fortresses to increase trade with Europe. We also learn the city's recent history, as a collection plate for hippies in the '60's, including Jimi Hendrix and to this day has a large population of Anglo free spirits mingling with the Moroccans. As we pass the beach and move closer to the fishing fleet resting in the harbor. Fishermen tend to their nets and prepare to return to sea among the ancient battlements surrounding the scene.

We continue, following the shoreline and as we pass through another set of gates we have a breathtaking view of Essaouira's coastline hugging Medina. With it's gray medieval looking wall containing Essaouira's snow white buildings, the sea crashing st it's foot with seagulls dotting the view we soon dive into the narrow, bustling streets. We not only pass the market stalls but soon tour the Jewish neighborhoods, visit opulent riads, and the spice market. We also visit craftsmen using the local thuya wood to carve small statues as well as craft all sorts of ornate cabinetry, from small boxes to large table and chests.

Kate and I depart the tour prematurely and explore on our own. We visit the plaza and find a pizzeria and decide this would be a good lunch stop. After so many lunches of couse-couse, tagine and brochettes we find the pizza a nice change and visit the next door ice creamery for dessert. As we finish our lunch street performers wander by and serenade us with a song accompanied on the oud. Following lunch we revisit the souks and shop for souvenirs. Kate tries to talk me into buying a jalaba, the local dress that looks similar to a 'Star Wars' Jawa uniform but I can't justify the purchase. We wind up spending the entire day on the streets of Essaouira and are disappointed to find the sun setting and shop keepers closing their stalls. We make our way to the western most fortress wall overlooking the Atlantic Ocean to watch the sunset with countless other tourists and locals, finding most of our group at the same time.

Following the light show, we return to our hotel and freshen up for the evening. The previous day's wash is dry on the roof, we change into clean clothes and meet the rest of the group in the lobby. Several of us decide beer would be great but know we are unable to purchase beer within the old city so, we decide to hike across the Medina to a beer and wine store outside the city's walls, buy beer and return to the hotel. The walk takes us through the crowded streets of a very traditional part of the city, we pass many locals in traditional Muslim wear. Returning to the hotel, Mohamed joins us with a hookah and tobacco and a man from the hookah room brings a hot charcoal. It's entertaining watching everyone puffing on the huge hookah and Kate, who stopped smoking at the start of the trip, is very enthusiastic to try the hookah. After a few beers and puffs from the water pipe, we organize ourselves for Essaouira's streets.

Back outside, we eventually return to the plaza and decide on a traditional Moroccan restaurant for dinner. We enter a busy restaurant and choose a long table and once again enjoy a Moroccan dinner, Pete on the other hand decides on a more French cuisine and dines on horse, which he shares with whomever is interested. After our late dinner we wander the streets as a light rain starts to fall, prodding us to return to the hotel. As we arrive we decide to call it a night and soon fall into a restful sleep.

Imlil to Essaouira, Day Eleven

Rising early, I make my way out to the balcony. The morning has a slight chill but is much warmer than I expected. The sun is just starting to rise, but no one else is, so I try to take a shower but find the gas is off for the night. I settle and watch the spectacular sunrise. Soon I find company as we line up for a shower with hot water water, then a quick breakfast before getting ready for a morning hike. Kate and a couple of the other girls decide to take it easy in Imlil, the rest of us prepare for the hike.

Hitting the street, we follow the narrow walkways before abruptly dropping down a short ravine to the dry riverbed. A short walk over the rocky bank soon leads us to a trail leading toward Mount Toubkal. This path not only leads to the peak but several small settlements along the way. We walk with and pass many other hikers, mountain bikers, locals carrying provisions, as well as many mules and goats. As we round a bend Imlil completely disappears behind a mountain and Mount Toubkal's snow-capped peak looms before us. The day is warm and the sun is out as we climb. Too soon we reach our destination, the settlement of "White Rock", named for the white rock legend says holds a pilgrim to Toubkal. We pass a small waterfall and scramble over rocks to reach the settlement, where we sit down to a soda, a candy bar and the spectacular scenery surrounding us. Too soon Mohamed yells his "Ya-La" (let's go) and hiking back to Imlil, we rejoin our travel companions, grab our packs and hike back down to Armed to meet back up with Abdul and his van. Grabbing our stowed luggage in town, we again load into the van and hit the road.

Today's drive finds us quickly leaving the mountain's rugged terrain and finds the landscape flattening out into an arid plain. Today's drive could be called uneventful but a more descriptive term would be monotonous and boring. Other than driving through Marrakech it was dry, flat and long. We did stop at a nice cafe for lunch, encountered a brief rain shower on the outside deck during said lunch, but all in all it was a long day. As we neared Essouira, we drove on a dirt road in the middle reconstruction, as the sun sank. On a slight mound overlooking Essouira with the Atlantic Ocean beyond, we stopped for a quick photo op. Arriving in Essouira, we first drove through the Ville-Nouvelle, then followed the beach briefly before nearing the Medina. Abdul found an empty spot to drop us off as porters pushing carts arrived to carry our bags to our hotel. We will no longer be chauffeured by Abdul and bid our farewells to our driver. Kate and I chose to carry our own bags as we filed through the city gates and into the crowded streets. We walked perhaps ten minutes before arriving at our hotel down a narrow street/alley.

We again waited as Mohamed obtained keys and the room-lottery played out. The hotel was stuccoed and tiled throughout, with a central courtyard containing the cafe with glass overhead. Three floors above contained the rooms with the hallways overlooking the open courtyard. Immediately everyone started laundry and showering and I believe everyone had hot water, at least eventually. We rejoined the group in the courtyard and decided on a change of pace for dinner, a western-style restaurant. We made our way through the busy streets, following Mohamed to our destination. We had a pleasant dinner complete with live pop music and adult beverages. Following our meal, Kate and I decided to walk back before everyone else was ready to leave and were joined by Natasha. I thought I had paid better attention to the directions (famous last words) but found all the streets looked alike under the sparse lamps. We made several wrong turns and looked very out of place but eventually were found by Mohamed, who had checked with the hotel concierge and discovered we had not returned and came looking for us. Returning to the hotel, we went to our room to call it a night. Everyday has shown something different Morocco has to offer but today's contrast has seemed to be the most stark, we started the day in the quiet, isolated village of Imlil at the foot of Northern Africa's highest mountain and end the day in the bustling coastal tourist town of Essaouira.

The High Atlas Mountains, Day Ten

We meet for breakfast and try to get out a quick message on Action's computer but the painfully slow Internet doesn't allow it. We return to the road and slowly the terrain gets more and more mountainous and the road gets more and more winding. Mohamed makes a suggestion to stop in a town on the way and grab picnic supplies as he knows a great place to stop and eat. Passing through a small village we stop at a local market. Navigating the busy stalls, we hunt for snacks as well as cheeses, prepared meats, fruits, breads and crackers for lunch. In exchanges that have no semblance of order, we all buy our picnic lunches and load back into Abdul's van. We head into the High Atlas Mountains following a two lane road that slowly starts snaking it's way up the mountain ridges. We pass few villages but see many vehicles and learn this narrow, winding road is the main road between Ouarzazate and Merrakech. Occasionally we see roadside souvenir salesmen on the side of the road but mainly the spectacular views across the mountains are what catch our eyes. The terrain is still getting steeper as the road starts turning back on itself through hairpin turn after hairpin turn as we approach the Tichka Pass. Making a quick photo stop on a mountain overlooking the pass itself we also find many roadside fossil vendors.

As we continue following the pass we stop at a small seemingly deserted roadside stand consisting of a very small cafe and some outdoor picnic tables under the shade of tall cedars. We sit down and share our provisions using improvised cutlery and utensils with a great view through a cedar forest to the valley beyond. With full bellies we again load into the van to continue our journey over the rugged landscape. For a few moments the terrain briefly flattens but mostly we find ourselves crossing hills and mountains or following narrow valleys. Soon we see snow capped Mount Toubkal in the distance, misguidedly believing we are close. No matter how far we travel, Mount Toubkal appears to be just as far away as when we first saw it. The scenery is spectacular but seemingly endless as we travel onward. As the sun nears the mountain ridges we break from the main motorway and begin following a narrower road over more rugged terrain. We pass several small villages as we wind through the mountains, now each brief peek at Mount Toubkal reveals we are finally getting closer and suddenly we are in the bustle of the village of Armed. Armed is the jumping off point for exploring the Mount Toubkal region.

Abdul finds a parking place, we unload our gear and soon walk to a nearby hotel. We are told to load what we need for the night into our day bags and stow our luggage in a room. Quickly we take care of our bags, grab a quick bathroom break, snacks and water and slowly assemble outside. Though Armed's altitude is high, the temperature is still comfortable and the sky is blue as the sun is sinking. We now begin following the footpath to nearby Imlil where we will spend the night at the foot of mount Toubkal, Northern Africa's highest mountain. Imlil serves as base camp for hikers on their two day hike to the peak of the majestic mountain. Two of the girls in our group opt to ride mules up the trail while the rest of us choose to walk. We wind our way up the busy road through town and quickly the narrow road transforms to a narrow footpath but just as busy. We pass homes, creeks and many people and mules as we wind our way up the path. Halfway up we we find ourselves in a forest with an occasional view across the valley.


The High Atlas Mountains

As the sun starts to disappear behind the mountains we arrive in Imlil and find ourselves on the doorstep of the Gite Atlas house. Situated of the edge of town, the home overlooks Imlil's narrow streets, the gorge below Imlil and Mount Toubkal crowns the view. Our host invites us for mint tea and shows us our group accommodations before we quickly break off to explore the village before darkness falls. I choose to explore the maze of narrow streets and hear the distinctive call to evening prayer. This call is less melodic than previous prayer calls I've heard and almost sounds ominous. It's interesting watching parents gather their children for dinner and the merchants closing shop. Fortunately I manage to find my way back through the maze of narrow streets as the daylight is dimming and sit down to relax as our companions trickle back to the gite house. The night chill quickly consumes our abode and following dinner our host builds a fire in the group room. Kate and Natasha are given Henna tattoos by the talented hands of one of our hosts and after relaxing we settle in for a lively card game of "Presidents and Assholes", I never make president but fortunately never fall to the lowly rank of "asshole". The day has taken it's toll and everyone retires for the night.

Ouarzazate and Aït Benhaddou, Day Nine

Yesterdays' hike and Hammam visit have taken their tool, everyone is slow to rise this morning, eventually though, everyone makes it to breakfast. Kate again orders an omelet to supplement the usual pastry and following breakfast we're back out on the road. We make a quick stop in town for supplies before our long journey along the foothills of the High Atlas Mountains. With blue skies overhead, the terrain becomes more rugged today with buttes making appearances, but still vegetation is scarce. The road is mostly flat through wide passes but we cross several large hills and small mountains. By late morning we have cleared the Dades region and soon pass Lake Ouarzazate, a vast body of water surrounded by scrub with mountains looming in the distance. Traveling a short distance further we arrive at Ouarzazate, the capitol of this region, and Abdul quickly finds a parking spot. There are several kasbahs within walking distance but we're interested in lunch. Crossing the street we enter a clay building and climb some stairs to an open air dining area that overlooks a good portion of the city. Over lunch we discuss forgoing the planned stop at Atlas movie studios to have more time to explore Aït Benhaddou and everyone agrees to skip the studio tour. After lunch we're back in the van and on the road. As we cross the vast, barren landscape I start to notice a warmth in my belly. I think everyone fears this moment when they travel, especially in a very different culture. I ask Mohamed if we can make a stop in the next village and he asks if I need to stop here. Quickly considering the full extend of having to deal with my current situation in what is essentially the middle of a scrub desert, open for miles with light traffic passing in both directions, I tell Mohammend I need more private facilities. With thick sweat on my brow we arrive in a village and Mohamed interprets with an inn's proprietor and I quickly find relief just in the nick of time. Feeling very relieved I return to the van and we continue our journey. Diverting from the main roadway, we near Aït Benhaddou and Abdul parks on a bluff overlooking the ancient Kasbah in the distance. Mohamed announces we can watch the "Snake Man". Several people sell knick-knacks and a man in full Berber garb sits to the side with a snake. I believe he wants 10 dirham for his photograph with a snake and Benhaddou in the background. We then load back into the vehicle and make the home stretch. We pull through a gate into a small compound where Abdul parks, then we gather our luggage and move to the hotel lobby for the room key lottery. The hotel's thick clay walls keep the air cool inside and we each grab our keys and inspect our rooms. Our comfortable room overlooks the Kasbah and we quickly settle in before rejoining the group for a tour. Our host and guide, "Action", explains his nickname is from his being an extra in the many films made here. He further explains "Jewel of the Nile", "Gladiator", "Lawrence of Arabia", "Last Temptation Of Christ", "Jesus of Nazareth" and "Kundun" to name a few, were all filmed here. Exiting the hotel's back door, we find ourselves on a cobbled street as our guide, Action leads us onward. As we walk down the street we pass many stalls selling rugs, lamps, paintings and clothing. reaching the bottom of the road we are soon strolling a wide sandy bank, then cross a shallow river following a line of stepping stones. Reaching the other bank, we start walking on a gravel path passing through the gates of the ancient Kasbah. Making our way upward through the narrow streets, we pass residents, shopkeepers and artists, as well as other tourists snaking the seemingly endless maze. Finally arriving at the top we find what appears to be the oldest structures commanding a commanding view of the surrounding area in all directions. After enjoying a brief rest, we then return to our hotel roof to have drinks and watch the sun set, bathing the kasbah in crimson light. Action then invites us to a dining room just off the kitchen and teaches us "Introduction To Moroccan Cooking 101" as we learn how to prepare tagine, as well as the design of a tagine (tagine is the cooking vessel as well as the dish). As Action teaches us couse-couse preparation we learn it takes hours to prepare, he then asks if I've prepared couse-couse and I reply "yes". He asks how long it took to prepare, I reply seven minutes, as he looks astonished everyone else at the table laughs and replies "instant couse-couse!". We then moves to the main dining room and we enjoy a Moroccan feast. Following dinner, Kate and I take a moonlight stroll through town and visit a shop for some chocolate. As we walk, the air is comfortable and the sky is clear, and although most shops are closed we do find a convenience stall open and grab a sweet snack before returning to our room to end the day. Aït Benhaddou

The Todra Gorge, Day Eight

Rising early, we shower, dress and go out to the upper patio to watch the sun rise over the gorge. The sunlight seems to set the steep rock faces on fire as the reddish stone is lit. We soon rejoin the group for breakfast and Kate is happy to learn the cook will make her omelets for breakfast. As we finish our meal Mohamed urges us to pack a day pack for today's' hike over the gorge. We meet our guide Aziz and load ourselves in the van for a short drive through the gorge to the trail head. Flooding has caused some washout to the road and we have a longer hike than Mohamed anticipated but I find the early start to the hike a welcome alternative to more time spent in the van. We follow the river as six hundred foot vertical rock faces climb over each bank. Vegetation is scarce as we walk and soon we round a bend and start our climb up a gently rising slope. Our hike is now following an adjacent gorge and we enjoy having clear blue skies overhead. Aziz points to a rock face on the opposite side of the gorge and tells us Tom Cruise was here filming a rock climbing sequence for one of the "Mission Impossible" movies.

We continue climbing and soon we crest the ridge. Several of us scramble up a nearby rock face to grab a better vantage point and the view is well worth it. The bare brown mountains fall away in all directions. a few clouds dot the blue sky. Aziz too soon prods us to continue and we hike down a trail leading to a rare wide flat area overlooking a valley. Aziz tells us this is an old football field and comments are made about retrieving a wayward ball might take half the day. Scaling another mountain or two we arrive at a small Berber settlement consisting of a long Berber tent and three small caves cut into the mountainside.

Aziz introduces us to our host, his wife and two children and explains that this is their home and every morning the 81 year old husband and one of his two wives hikes down the mountain for water and supplies, then returns. The forty year old wife is busy preparing a meal as the husband serves us mint tea to welcome us into his home. The two very robust children play nearby, one is 18 months, the other is four years old. Aziz also tells us the man has one other wife and 14 other children, I don't remember how many grandchildren. Peter opens up a bottle of soapy water and bubble rings and starts blowing soap bubbles for the kids. The children are soon Peter's best friend and he produces another bottle and ring which he presents to the children. We learn much of their way of life before bidding thank yous and farewells. As we leave we pass the family's horses on our descent.

Climbing down, we follow a narrow faint path through rock fields, scree and loose dirt before returning to the bottom of the deep gorge. We enter a kasbah and are led upstairs to a room overlooking the streets below. Our hostess offers us a seat on rugs of the floor and prepares mint tea to welcome us, but asks us not to take her picture. She then offers us a lunch of Berber pizza, which is flat bread with a pesto of tomato, onion, peppers and seasonings on top. After lunch Aziz and Mohomed lead us downstairs, through the streets, then into a building and up more steps where we find a woman making a rug. We settle in and a the proprietor enters offering mint tea and then begins explaining how the rugs are made, from spinning and dying the wool to the finished product. Then the sale begins, many samples and items are brought in and laid out as our host explains the meanings of the patterns, the durability of the items and how inexpensive they all are. Several start haggling as Kate and I decide which rug and what is the largest size we will be comfortable carrying around for the remainder of our journey. Kate decides which pattern and we're told it's an ancient Berber pattern and after much bag and forth bargaining a price is agreed to and we have our rug bundled and re-join the group outside.

Following Mohamed, we start walking down a street but quickly dive onto a path cutting through the dense riverside foliage of the palmery. In places we almost have to bushwhack our way through the lush greenery and gardens. After perhaps three miles we start climbing a slope and pass several homes and inns. As we near the Taborite Mohamed points to his family's home and we meet his sister nearby. By late afternoon we arrive back at our kasbah and sit to relax on the deck as the rest of the group trickles through the front gate. Mohamed asks if any of us are interested in visiting the Hammam, or Turkish steam bath, located in town. Pete, Peter, Len, Ed and I, as well as Natasha, Nicole and Patsy (*I think) all take Mohamed up on his offer. So we grab a towel, load into the van and head to town.

We arrive in Tinghir and Abdul drops us off, Mohamed leads us to the Hammam offering advice like "Don't go nude" and "relax and enjoy it". We walk down a side street and divert down an alleyway before arriving. Mohamed points the girls to their door and leads us into the men's baths. Mohamed speaks to the man behind the counter in Arabic, I'm sure the exchange was along the lines of "fresh meat", "nervous" and "please go easy on them" were most likely some of the phrases used. We each pay the cashier for a full treatment, we're given some supplies, then move to the "cold" room where we each strip to our skivvies then head to the steam room. We find ourselves in next room, which is the "warm room", we stop here and grab a water bucket from a stack along the wall. There are hot and cold water faucets on the wall and we fill our buckets then sit for a few minutes on the warm tile floor.

The rooms and water are heated by a wood burning furnace under the floor. A few moments later we're led to the "hot" room and gestured to stay here. We are a small group of sweaty, English speaking, Caucasian males sitting in their underwear on a roasting hot tile floor amid the local Arab speaking Moroccans. With the wide-eyed looks on our faces we couldn't have felt any more out of place if we were out side in the main town square in the same predicament. Soon an English speaking local sits beside me and introduces himself as Mustafa and ridiculously asks the painfully obvious "Is this your first time?", to which I sheepishly answer the even more obvious "yes". He then asks if we're getting massages and we tell him yes. He instructs me to just relax and lie down to get all my muscles warm and relaxed and go with it when the massage starts.

We exchange pleasant conversation and soon a man comes in and covers us all in date oil from the top of our heads to the bottom of our feet and gestures us to stay put and stay down. A short while later a man enters with a bucket and fills it from the faucets, he mixes and tediously checks the temperature, making adjustments often as the bucket fills. The man then puts on a defoliating glove (sandpaper) and starts "sanding" the outer layers of our skin from our bodies and yes, it is painful but not intolerable. After most of our skin is scraped away, the carefully mixed water is dumped unceremoniously over our heads and feels refreshingly great. Then we're again gestured to wait before a short time later another man enters and the massage starts. We are each separately placed in various positions by our masseuse and stretched from painful positions in very painful directions, this seems more Greco-Roman wrestling than massage but we each endure the often painful experience. I use a grunt to let the torturer know when he's at a point that further movement will require hospitalization. Again we're dowsed with a bucket of water and now we're gestured to move to the "warm" room. Here we acclimate before another man enters with a bucket of water, soap and shampoo. He then proceeds to wash all the remaining oil and dead skin from us and after rinsing we return to the "cold" room and get dressed and await Mohamed's return. Stepping outside we find night has fallen as we join the women and walk back to the waiting van. Arriving back at the Taborite, we meet in the dining room and order our meals while enjoying drinks and exchange our evenings' experiences. Dinner is soon served and the hardy meals quickly consumed, a little conversation and everyone heads to an early-ish night.

The Erg Chebbi Dunes to the Todra Gorge, Day Seven

Mohamed wakes us as the sun prepares to make it's morning entrance, the chill of the previous night is quickly disappearing, even before the desert is lit. Last night's storm has passed and many of us prepare to climb the largest dune for sunrise. Pete, Cameron and Nicole are quickly halfway up before Kate and even I begin our ascent. The dune is much higher than it appears and although the desert floor quickly falls away behind us the peak seems to stay far out of reach, eventually though, Kate and I join the others on the high ridge as the sun peeks over the distant horizon. The first light sets the orange tinged sand on fire as the sun slowly rises. We watch another group of travellers far below break camp and start their march out of the desert. Too soon Mohamed is beckoning us back to camp where we too pack up and climb aboard our beasts of burden to begin our march out. Pete is much happier with his camel today and calls him "Brian". I really don't notice much difference between any of the creatures, they all march in single file, burp and pass gas. The difference I notice is the comfort level of the saddle, today's being much less than the previous days' and I continually shift in the seat but find no relief. As the sun rises and our shadows shorten, we continue on and soon discover last nights' rains have created a huge lake on the plain that we must traverse before arriving at our destination.

Gathering our belongings and repacking, we grab a quick breakfast at the desert kasbah before reuniting with Abdul and his once again immaculate van. We follow the white rock soldiers marking our path out of the desert and re-pass desert villages before stopping to tour a Minéral shop. All sizes and types of fossils are cut and polished here, becoming everything from small carved animals and eggs to counter and tabletops. These fossils are of small prehistoric water creatures and their likenesses can be be seen on and in all the merchandise. Soon we have our purchases stowed and are back on the road, diverting to the west and leaving the desert behind. Though the desert is disappearing behind us the terrain is still flat and arid ahead.


Breaking Camp in the Sahara Desert

Abdul soon stops at a well, or better put a long line of wells. Walking a gauntlet of souvenir salesmen we make our way to the earthen structures. These wells follow an underground aquifer in an arrow straight line, disappearing in the distance in both directions. The wells themselves are from six foot to ten foot high mounds of hard packed dirt, looking like giant ant hills. These tall earthworks protect the precious water from rainwater washing in or dust blown into the deep wells. Peering into the deep holes puncturing the tall mounds reveals fresh water at the bottom. Most on the mounds have a primitive framework supporting a crank, rope and water bucket. After our quick stop we're back on the road, traveling the mostly deserted road. As we travel an oncoming truck driver waves us down and Abdul quickly pulls over and jumps out to talk to the man. Mohamed interprets the exchange, "The rains have caused flooding up ahead and trucks are having to divert to a different motorway, perhaps our smaller van will be okay". Not wanting to loose all the extra time backtracking before following the longer but more predictable road, Abdul decides to continue on the road we've been traveling. The landscape slowly begins rolling into hills, then mountains start to line the horizon.

We arrive at the edge of a village and are met by a roadblock of snarled traffic. Abdul's concern for flooding seems to now be a reality and he walks ahead to scout the situation, we first grab a quick snack, then we all follow. Walking perhaps a mile or more downhill through town we reach the cause for the line of parked cars, trucks and buses, a torrent of water has devoured the roadway. Many people stand on each bank and speculate their chances for safe passage, all asking for or offering advice. One by one brave, or simply impatient, drivers inch toward the currents, driving in the oncoming traffic lane and survey the scene, guess the water's depth and take their chances. With cheers the first brave driver dives in and starts the crossing, water pouring over the hood, the operator obviously fighting the current to keep from being washed off the roadway and downstream. Soon the engine is bogged down from the barrage of water and good Samaritans rush to help push the truck across. Sheepishly, more drivers start the trek across the river and even a pair of bicycle tourists start pulling their panniers from their bikes to start the journey, about halfway across they hit the strongest current and are almost washed away as a large group from the other bank rush in and assist with the bicyclists' harrowing traverse. Buses of tourists soon unload their luggage from the lower compartments and place their bags in the higher passenger area, leaving the luggage doors open for the water to free-flow through the chassis as they cross. Abdul is not yet comfortable with a river crossing with his van, so we wait and watch the show as more drivers gather the courage to make the wet traverse. After about an hour or so of watching the scene, Abdul feels the water has receded enough for the crossing and we begin our trek. Although the water is lower, it is reaching just below the vans' windows as we make the journey. Once on the other side we continue on without hesitation, leaving the town and remnants of the traffic jam behind.

The landscape becomes more rugged the further we travel and as the sun nears the horizon we arrive at the town of Tinghir. Mohamed's fears we may find more flooding as we near the Todra Gorge fortunately prove not to be the case. We grab some supplies in town and as we drive to nearby Todra we stop on a high prominence to watch the sun set over the Todra Gorge and Tinerhir. Now back in the van to finish today's travels, we drop into the gorge. Tall opposing cliff faces choke the road and river as we wind our way through the narrowing gorge. Soon we arrive at the Maison D'Hote Taborihte Kasba, our home for the next two days. This is the Inn where Mohamed used to work and his family lives just beyond. As we unload our luggage porters arrive and offer to carry our bags for a small fee but Kate and I opt to carry our small bags ourselves. We first descend a long stairway, then cross a swinging bridge spanning the river, then climb a long stairway on the opposite shore to a grand entrance.

As we enter the Taborite we find a swimming pool and many tables with chairs set around the large open patios and we watch the sun set over the gorge. Room keys are divvied up and everyone is given a menu to choose their dinner preference. Then everyone finds and explores their rooms and freshens up for dinner. Following dinner, we find beer in a fridge and enjoy a few after dinner drinks. Soon after dinner Mohamed is joined by his brother and several more of the hotel staff. Drums are passed out amongst the locals and, feeling brave, they pass drums to Pete, Ed, Peter and myself. After a too quick lesson in drumming and an even quicker lesson in Berber song, we're all butchering traditional Berber music and telling truly awful jokes. Several other guests join in and the locals tolerate our drumming and singing much longer than I anticipated. After several hours we are partied out for the night and slowly the room empties. before finally calling it a day and retiring for the night.

The Sahara Desert, Day Six

I wake early and take a brisk shower as Kate sleeps. The early morning desert is crisp, clear and cool. I grab a camera and take pictures as I wander the empty corridors and courtyards of the riad. I hear stirring as I return to the room to check on my injured companion, who claims she still has a headache. We clean and re-dress her injury, she pops some Advil and after she showers we make our way to the dining room for breakfast. After loading up on pastry and juice we repack, reload into the van and return to Midelt. The road is no longer flooded and the sun quickly warms the barren landscape as we arrive. Today we tour a linen co-op run by nuns. Girls of all ages are apprenticed in needlework and cloth work and we are allowed to watch and photograph them at work. We start where the older, more experienced women work large, intricate tablecloths and soon move to the room where newer apprentices work smaller items such as napkins and place mats. Language barriers don't permit the women to explain their work but many smiles and head bobs are exchanged. We then are taken to the shop where their wares are sold. Choosing a napkins set, Kate makes her purchase and we move outside where we find some of the students taking a break in the sunshine. The apprentices allow us to take their pictures and delight in seeing themselves on the small digital screens of the cameras.

After returning to Abdul's van, we're soon leaving Midelt and back in the isolated and barren Atlas mountains. Today we slowing descend from the mountains and head to the desert, along the way we cross mountains, plains and follow rivers. Vegetation is scarce as we really only see scrub and the occasional tree on the open road until we stop overlooking a long gorge with a palmerie flowing like a wide green river as far as the eye can see in either direction. Moving on we pass many small towns and villages, the highlight for me was following the long shoreline of the Hassan Andakhil Dam. The huge lake seemed to appear out of nowhere and the bright blue water shines a bright iridescence over the surrounding barren landscape. Following the water for what seems to be an unrealistically long time we eventually find it's terminus at a hydroelectric dam.

The land slowly levels as we travel and now roadside stands and building hawking "Minerals" start popping up along the motorway. We learn "minerals" means fossils and this area is filled with them. We continue through Erfoud and Rissani,passing through dense palmeries with elaborate irrigation canals cutting in every direction. Occasionally we catch a glimpse of palmerie workers with shovels shifting dirt to divert the precious water to different areas of the lush gardens. The palms are obviously in season as bunches of dates awaiting harvest hang from the high foliage.

Traveling on we are in a vast empty landscape, ahead in the distance we can just make out orange mounds in the desert as we approach our turn, where we divert from a paved, two lane road onto a desert path marked by two parallel lines of white rocks meandering off in the distance. As we follow the rocks, Abdul's cautious driving marks us as the "tortoise" to the many "hares" that continuously pass us. These "Hares" are mostly four wheel drive SUVs but the occasional motorcycle makes it way past us as well. We drive and drive but the distant dunes seem to linger out of reach. Our anticipation turns to boredom, even though we know we're moving we seem frozen in place. We open the van's sliding door and taunt passing vehicles and despite Abdul's protests we urge Mohamed to hang out the from window for pictures. Finally several kasbahs start to dot the landscape as we persist in our forward journey. Just as it seems the sun's descent will beat our arrival, Mohamed points to our destination, a kasbah sitting at the top of a prominence with a herd of camels resting at it's entrance. Mohamed urges us to quickly load our day packs for the overnight camp and leave our luggage in a room at the kasbah. As we shuffle our belongings we find Abdul settling into his room and urge him to join us in the desert. Even though Abdul pretends to contemplate accompanying us we know he'll be in a comfortable bed tonight as we camp.

After sorting our belongings and loading up on bottled water, we're given a blanket, otherwise known as a camel saddle and led to a line of dromedaries, otherwise known as one-humped camels. One by one we each lay the blanket saddle over the backs of a camel and climb aboard the kneeling beast, we then each grab the handlebars, yes... handlebars, and hold on as the creature stands. The reins of the lead camel are held by our guide, each animal in the lines' reins are held by the preceding beast and we are all riding two lines of camels led by two guides. We then begin our single file marches into the Sahara Desert. Pete has named his camel "Steve" and tells me he doesn't like his camel, I'm almost scared to ask him why. The sun sinks fast as we enter the orange dunes and soon we have a full moon and stars overhead however, a thunderstorm is slowing gaining on us from behind. Journeying on camelback deeper into the desert, Mohamed sings a Berber song under the full moonlight. The dark sky is cut by ever nearing flashes of lightning as we climb and descend the dunes.

Arriving, our guides help us off the camels, we follow the reverse procedure to dismount; hold onto the handlebars and ride the camel as as the camel kneels down to a sitting position. Our guides then escort us to camp for a welcoming cup of Berber Whiskey, or mint tea, at tables set up on carpets under the disappearing stars. As we finish our tea the rain arrives and we quickly find shelter in the main Berber tent. With the wind and rain settling in just outside, we settle in and relax by candlelight as our hosts set our dinner table. Chicken and vegetable tagines with bread soon make their way onto the tables as we gather vulture-like, lunch being distant memory. We have no tableware and eat as Moroccans, tearing off pieces of bread and using our right hand to pinch pieces of meat and vegetables in the bread to consume. Quickly leaving empty plates, our hosts clear the tables as outside the sky clears. We seize the opportunity and climb a nearby dune, some walk down, some run, and some choose to roll, others choose a combination of all three. Our excursion is soon cut short as Mohamed ushers us to the tents as the next bout of rain approaches. Sleeping arrangements are quickly decided and a heavy rain settles in outside as we make our beds inside the tents. We half expected a sandstorm but rain in the Sahara never entered our minds before this evening. As the night wears on, tent shaking winds and the occasional leak punctuate a hap-hazard night's sleep.

The Barbary Apes and Midelt, Day Five

Again, we wake and this morning take a short morning walk around the Ville-Nouveau before we pack, meet for breakfast and load up in the van. We walk the quiet streets and explore the empty markets before returning to the hotel and rejoining the group. Leaving the city, we find rolling country with mountains making an appearance in the distance. Dense forests of cedar obscure much of our views as we travel this long, straight two lane road. Occasionally a roadside stand is set up selling apples, oranges, pomegranates or other produce, most of the stands have an occupant, others are unmanned and an honor system cup suffices as a cashier. As the elevation changes even more we arrive at the Swiss styled village of Infran. Set among tall trees and rolling countryside are high "A" frame buildings, grand fountains, cafes and boutiques. Many tourist buses are parked on the main street, along with a group of European motorcycles and rental cars. Everyone takes turns posing with the giant lion statue in the town square with a fountain in the background. Taking advantage of the opportunity we take many pictures of this non-African looking village. It truly looks like a Swiss postcard without snow, or cold for that matter. As I prepare to snap a picture of a billboard poster of Morocco's current President, Mohammed V, our leader Mohamed quickly intercedes and informs me we are not allowed to take a picture of the President's picture. Looking confused, my objections are quickly dismissed and I reluctantly oblige. After a quick refreshment we're back on the road.

We are still slowly climbing the hills and occasionally drive through more dense forests before eventually stopping at a crossroads. A gentleman with his elaborately dressed horse distracts from why we've stopped here, which is a chance to see the Barbary Apes. We skip the photo-op with the overdressed horse to meet the residents of this forest, the Barbary Apes. The Apes are really macaque monkeys, much smaller in size than apes but big in numbers in these woods, they seem to be everywhere. We buy some peanuts from a nearby entrepreneur and start making new friends. The monkeys are tame so long as peanuts are in your generous hands and we find some youngsters too busy playing chase in the trees to be bothered with scraps from us visitors. Mohamed yells "Ya La", Moroccan for "Let's Go" and we again load into the van and head out, traveling across the Mid Atlas Mountains heading south.


Barbary Ape in the Middle Atlas Mountains

We wind along gorges that resemble the rugged mountains of the American west. Breaking for lunch, we ate at a roadside cafe before continuing our journey, the winding road consumed much of our day but the beautiful, rugged scenery keeping everyone's attention. As we get closer to Midelt the forests becomes more sparse, then the vegetation becomes more sparse until we're in very arid country. When we reach Midelt in the late afternoon, we find rains have flooded the main road into town and traverse a wide but shallow river on our way through town. Once across we stop to watch the locals climb aboard any and all of the vehicles heading their way to avoid the long wet hike to town. Loading back into the van we continue to our riad, which turns out to be located a considerable distance from town. As we near the hotel we find it's located alone in a vast, arid flat, with mountains rising in the distance. Mohamed hurries us to our rooms to unload and quickly meet back in the lobby for a hike before dark. We have little time to explore our rooms, much less the hotel before regrouping and heading out.

After a day in the van the walk feels great, we follow the road, really a gravel path, from the hotel toward Midelt before breaking from the trail and heading toward a small mountain. Spooking a herd of sheep, we continue to an aquaduct spanning a small gorge. As we investigate the waterworks Mohamed urges us on to stay with the group. A short distance later we are surprised to find ourselves on the edge of a huge, deep gorge with a muddy river raging below. As we traverse the cliff edge we soon discover a kasbah in the distance on the river's bank. As we near the kasbah we find many children following us and soon find ourselves in the streets of the kasbah with curious onlookers watching our every move. The children soon are mingling with us, taunting us to take their pictures and delighted to see themselves in the pictures. The villagers all offer us welcoming smiles as we make our way back to our riad. As we leave the village the final rays of sun are dimming and the full moon again greets us. We arrive back at the riad in the dark and prepare for dinner. We buys some Moroccan wine and head to the roof, sampling Morocco's finest under the moonlight. We quickly discover why we've never had Moroccan wine before, and also discover the wine doesn't get any better with the second, third or fourth glass consumed. This is also when I determine I'll stick to Moroccan beer. Although Morocco is Muslim, they are lenient as far as fermented spirits are concerned but we find distilled spirits only in the large cities.

As our group slowly convenes at the dinner table Nicole finds me and informs me Kate is hurt and in our room. I start to think how isolated and remote we are from any facilities that may offer even remedial care as I make my way to our room, where I find Kate lying on the bed with a wet and bloody towel to her head. Sobbing, she explains how she was heading to the courtyard containing our rooms when she tripped on the step, fell and hit her temple on the corner of a column base. She then further explains losing consciousness before waking to a woman hysterically but unintelligibly yelling for help and thinking she's lost her language skills before realizing the woman is French. I quickly assess her injury before finding Mohamed and letting him know what was happening. Following bandaging Kate's injury, I serve her dinner in bed and try to grab a few bites of dinner for myself on the sly. Kate's aspirin kicked in a little and she settled down as the nights' festivities were getting ready to start. Today is Nicole's birthday and Cameron and Mohamed have planned a birthday party with a Moroccan twist, complete with cake, a band and dancers. Kate starts to feel good enough to take part, or at least not to miss all of it, and we join everyone else as the party starts.

Drummers and fiddlers are joined my singers who are then joined by dancers and soon everyone is dancing and singing. There is a sharp contrast between the talents of locals and us visitors but everyone is having a great time. After the first dance Nicole's cake is lit and brought out. We find Moroccans don't celebrate with birthday cake and look curiously as we sing "Happy Birthday" and Nicole blows out the candles and the cake is served. More dancing and singing is then followed by more singing and dancing. A new dance is introduced that involves a man and a woman lying on the floor, side by side, facing each other with a pillow under their shoulders. The two do a seductive dance of hand gestures, followed by rolling back and forth across the floor over and under each other. This new dance proves to be too much for us uninitiated tourists the local dancer soon finds no partners for this particular dance. Eventually exhaustion wins and one by one the crowd thins as everyone returns to their rooms to find rest following the long day.

Fez, Day Four

Kate and I wake up early and decide to explore the Ville-Nouvelle. Leaving our hotel on this brisk morning, we head to the city center and find the streets mostly deserted. We arrive at Avenue Hassan II and are met by a broad boulevard with majestic palms bordering reflecting pools and fountains filling the medium between the roadways, lattices and arches of lights strung overhead. The sun is up but we share the city with only a few people rushing along the mostly empty streets. Consulates and government buildings are among the hotels, boutiques and restaurants along the Avenue. After our quick look around we return to the hotel to join the others for breakfast, after-which we load into Abdul's once again immaculate van to explore the old city.

Sooner than expected we roll up to the Royal Palace and exit the van. We wander the plaza outside the palace gates and take pictures with the countless other tourists mobbing the square. I soon find it is illegal to take pictures of the Royal Guard as I'm rushed by armed guards who ask me to delete the pictures I took of them from across the plaza. I reluctantly return to photographing the empty gates, fountains and palms. The Royal Palace is situated just outside Fez's famed Medina and we again load into the van for the short drive to the Semmarian Gate, where we enter the souk. The Fez Medina has about 11,000 streets and all seem filled with people, donkey carts, scooters & bikes and vary in size from a motorway to an ally that is not wide enough for two people to pass. Spices, leather goods and foods of all sorts, lamps, music & instruments are but a few of the wears for sale and all hawked at "Berber Prices", seemingly to make the unwary believe he will receive a "local’s price". We detour from the main thoroughfare into the Madrasa Bou Inania, or Quaranic school and are amazed at the intricate detail everywhere within the school. For a society that doesn't depict representational art the intricate work on every surface from the floors to the walls to the doors are beautifully amazing. The schools are laid out somewhat similarly to a riad, with a central courtyard, either open or closed to the sky with a central water feature, and rooms around the periphery and usually more than one story high.

After touring Fez's Medina a little further, we make our way back to the van and drive up a precipice overlooking the Medina and gain an understanding of exactly how large and dense the Medina actually is. It appears as a mostly white city with minarets randomly reaching skyward from all around the city, the streets so narrow it looks like the buildings are pushed together. Reloading into the van we soon arrive at a pottery co-op. Our tour begins with tile cutters chipping the handmade tiles not only into different shapes, but chipping the glaze skin off the tiles to reveal different patterns. We then learn from craftsmen how the tile are made, glazed and fired, then how they're made into fountains, tables and other works of art. We then observe the potters at work turning tagines, glasses and other goods as well as glaziers painting intricate details onto the pottery. Finding ourselves in the shop, Kate and I decide to buy a tagine, even though we realize it may not be the easiest purchase for two lightweight travelers to carry around the country and onward to home. We're then whisked back to the Medina to get lunch and finish our tour.

Arriving at another gate, we re-enter the souks and are again passing markets, we taste indigenous fruits and other exotic foods that I can't begin to name, as well as more familiar fare like dates. Heading for lunch we walk down narrow hallways, and then make our way up many stairs before arriving at our cafe. We find ourselves in a lime green room about thirty feet square with a large skylight overhead. Pushing many smaller tables together we then sit as a group for lunch. At each meal the menu is mostly familiar though the surroundings are different; couse-couse, tagine or brochettes (skewers of grilled meat) and frites (fries). Though it seems the menus are identical we find the foods are prepared very differently and each region has it's specialty. We finish lunch and are again on the busy streets of the souk. Our tour carries us into another Quaranic school before we visit the famous Fez Tanneries. We enter a building and climb some steps, then we climb more narrow steps, then we again climb some steps before emerging in a leather shop. We find shelves filled with leather goods; shoes of every color, purses, wallets and foot stools and on the opposite side is a balcony overlooking the tanneries. The smell, though not pleasant, is not near as overpowering as I had imagined it would be. There are many men working the leather and we note the white tubs where the hides are worked into leather and many different colored tubs where the leather is dyed. All around hides are stretched out over the surrounding roof tops to dry in the sun. Climbing more steps we find a maze of coats and jackets and many eager salesmen offering bargains, but we leave empty handed. Descending the cascade of steps delivers us to Fez's busy streets again.

Mohamed carries us to a homeopathic pharmacy where the proprietor offers us samples of many indigenous remedies for everything from snoring, to cold and digestive ills, to impotence; I'm guessing we didn't make a good first impression with him. We then are led to a cloth weaver where we watch craftsmen at work and pick out our head wear for our upcoming trek into the desert. We're soon at another co-op of carpet merchants and get our introduction to Moroccan hard sell and are again offered "Berber Price". Although several in our group buys some rugs, the shopkeepers are disappointed to find most of us leaving empty-handed. As we empty out of the Medina from the opposite gate from the one we entered, we find Cam and Nicole are not finished exploring Fez and opt to return to the souks as we load into Abdul's van. Returning to the hotel, Mohamed offers us a choice for dinner; a modest Moroccan dinner in the Ville-Nouveau or a more expensive visit to a family-owned riad within the Medina, we choose the riad. We refresh ourselves in our rooms, visit the liquor store across the street from our hotel and enjoy some cold beer in the hotel lobby as the group slowly reunites. Feeling refreshed we overcome the social inertia and load into Abdul's van.

The sky is clear, the full moon is out and the temperature very comfortable. We drive back to the Medina, park and have a pleasant stroll through Fez's streets to the riad. After walking through dark and narrow alleys lined by non-descript buildings we arrive at our destination. We enter a beautifully decorated central courtyard with a central fountain and seating, a detailed ceiling two floors up protects the courtyard from the elements. Our hostess leads us to our dining room, through an arched entryway we find a long rectangular room with a large table bordered by overstuffed benches at either end. We place our drink orders and receive our drinks with the first course of salad. A second course of harerra (a creamy Moroccan vegetable soup) follows and by the fourth course we start to learn, too late, that more courses will follow. After enjoying tagine and couse-couse we finally have our dessert, orange slices and cinnamon which is refreshing after all the spices of the main courses. Following dinner our host offers us a tour of the riad and tells us how his family has spent years restoring the riad from its former dilapidated state. The detail is unbelievable as we observe even the wood screens are intricately painted in multi-colored patterns. We are then led up to the roof-top deck overlooking the medina with a full moon overhead and the ancient city spread out all around us. Finding it hard to break away from the riad, we return to our modest hotel in the Ville-Nouvelle and rest up for our journey skirting the Middle Atlas Mountains tomorrow.


Exploring the Souk

The Royal Granery, Volubilus and Fez, Day Three

As we make our way downstairs to breakfast, we find a heavy gray sky and rain. Kate and I are alone as we sit but soon are joined by Len and Patsy. As we dine on baguettes and pastry, Len opens a tube of Vegimite. I ask him about the Vegimite and he says it's good, Patsy disagrees as Len offers me some, suggesting I spread it thinly on a baguette. It's a different taste but I did enjoy it. Soon the rest of the group has joined us for breakfast and everyone is excited about the upcoming day despite the dire weather. Following breakfast, we're out on the street in our all too familiar petite-taxi dance en route to the Meknes Royal Granery and Stables. Once Kate and I load into our petite-taxi we find the most elaborately decorated vehicle yet. Ball tassels dance from the ceiling, fake fur covers the dash both front and back, and colorful icons are placed seemingly everywhere else inside this vehicle. The damp rain and fur covered defrost vents invite a veil of fog over all the windows, including the windshield, leaving little visible outside the taxi save for indiscernible blobs. Fortunately our driver knew the way blind and we were soon joining the rest of our group outside the ancient granery of Mouley Ismial. We walked through the halls and rooms of the granary, whose thick walls keep a constant temperature and humidity within the structure. We eventually made our way out to the adjoining stables and then out to the boulevard circumnavigating the current Royal Palace.

Walking the rain, we had the road to ourselves as we followed the Royal Palace's wall on our trek to Meknes' souk. Once at the plaza we step into a tent to dry off and warm up with glasses of coffee and tea as the merchants set up shop in the surrounding plaza. Several of us make our way across the plaza to explore the butcher and sweets souk. Strolling past the butchers, we find many eager cats standing by anticipating scraps of meat tossed their way by generous butcher's hands. Abruptly exiting the meat market we are walking past table after table of bee covered, honey sweetened confections. We soon forget how uncomfortably close to the butcher's wares the sweets are located as the confectioners offer samples of their specialties as well as "special prices". We all purchase samplers and share among our group the honey-sweet confections. When we all reconvene in the plaza, Mohamed tells us we will explore the souk and visit his friend for camel burgers.

The rainy, dark mid-day sky reflects to the very dark narrow sidewalks of the souk. Hearing the noonday call to prayer, we are passed by many worshippers abruptly making their way to the mosques. We quickly pass many stalls of merchants hawking their goods but none of us oblige, trying to keep up with Mohamed and the rest of the group as we navigate the dark narrow streets. We pass an endless dance of pedestrians, scooters, goat and carts and everywhere are hordes of cats. Soon we arrive at Mohamed's friend's shop and after showing us his shop and the blast oven he uses to cook, we are escorted upstairs to his residence. We sit back and relax in a small, tile covered room sitting on padded benches surrounding a central table, enjoying pleasant conversation as we await the burgers. One by one the seasoned camel meat filled pocket bread sandwiches make their way to our table, eventually finding eager hands and mouths. The meat is similar to lean beef and only Natasha, the lone vegetarian of our group is without a burger but is given a vegetarian alternative. I'm not sure I want to know what the vegetarian camel meat alternative is, but Natasha seemed to somewhat enjoy it. Following lunch, we're back on the busy streets and making our way back to the Palace's plaza. We admire the Palace gates and the slowly clearing sky as we await our van and driver, who is stuck in traffic. Soon we're loading into a passenger van and meeting our driver Abdul, learning Abdul speaks almost as little English as we speak Arabic. The van is immaculate, comfortable and has ample room for us and our luggage as we head for our next destination.

We make our way out of the city and into the country, offering views of rolling hills dotted by cedar and olive trees, as well as the occasional large yucca. Soon we arrive at Volubilus, the western most Roman settlement. As we arrive the rain is trying to return and we find a light drizzle and a steady, heavy wind. We also find a stubborn, thick and sticky clay awaiting our arrival, our feet gaining a heavy coating of the muck as we make our way to the ancient ruins. Pelted by the wind driven rain we make our way toward the Tangier Gate at the northern most end of the ruins before following the main avenue to the Triumphal Arch. We pass many ancient homes with columns and arched entryways but no roof and almost no walls remain, however many colorful mosaic floors are dotted throughout the ruins, all telling different stories. As we near the Arch at the crossroads the sky begins to clear but the wind is contently battering us. Turning to the southeast we explore the baths and Basilica as well as the Capitol. We then make our way back to Abdul and we try, mostly in vain, to clean the stubborn clay from our hiking boots before climbing into Abdul's pristine van.

Our drive consumes the remaining daylight before we arrive in Fez. We greet the grand city by stomping muddied shoes through water puddles in the street outside our hotel, the Olympic. Another re-occurring play is the room lottery at the new hotel; we carry our luggage to the lobby and wait in anticipation, Mohamed then arrives with sets of keys and divvies out our rooms, the singles in the group find out if they'll be paired up or get a room to themselves, the couples find if they get king, queen or Lucy & Ricky paired double beds. Once in our room we take note that we'll be in Fez for two days and we quickly start doing laundry in the bathroom sink, hanging our clothes around the room before reconvening with the group in the lobby. Opting for an easy dinner, we walk through a damp night to a modest restaurant only a few blocks away and sit down for pizza. We not only enjoy each other's company but the proprietor comes to our table and entertains us using his fluency in seven languages and his views on his country. We doggedly return to our hotel in a light drizzle, make our way to our rooms and find rest for the busy day tomorrow.

The Mosque Hussan II, Rabat and Meknes, Day Two

Rising early, we make our way down to the lobby for breakfast. Morocco was a French territory and breakfast consists of pastry, cheese, coffee, tea and juice, we find this is what is served in the morning on most of our stops. After breakfast we head outside and mingle with the rest of our group in anticipation of the start of our journey. Soon we're piling into the hotel's transport vans on our way to the Mosque Hussan II. Kate and I explored the plaza surrounding this monumental building the previous day and now quickly queue up below ground level to get our entrance tickets and shoe bags. Finding we're not allowed to wear shoes into the mosque, we strip off and bag our footwear before entering. Non-Muslims are not usually allowed in mosques but this mosque allows visitors of all denominations for short periods between worship. This grand building sits on a promontory extending out into the Atlantic Ocean. We're told this mosque can accommodate 25,000 worshipers inside and an additional 80,000 outside. The mosque was started in 1986 and was built by some 2,500 construction workers and 10,000 artists and craftsman. The building was inaugurated in the summer of 1993. After touring the spectacular main hall we move downstairs to the baths where worshipers ritualistically wash before prayer.


Mosque Hassan II

Exiting the Mosque, we make our way across the huge plaza to a taxi stand and load into waiting petite-taxis before traveling onward to the train station. We wait at the taxi drop-off for the last of our companions to arrive and board the train to Rabat, Morocco's capitol city. We arrive in Rabat from underground, the train stopping in full sunlight but below street level. Exiting the train, we climb a scaffolded stairway through construction to street level where we're met by the Nouvelle's main thoroughfare. This avenue is bordered by provincial buildings and the street's medium is decorated with palm trees, water fountains and grand Moroccan flags. Quickly we make our way down a side street to a small hotel where we stow our luggage for our exploration of Rabat. We enjoy a quick cup of tea before making our way back to the street. Mohamad detours us into and upstairs at a restaurant overlooking the main downtown square. We have lunch together and soon are back outside following our leader Mohamed down Avenue Mohammed IV to the old town. Hearing angry shouting across the square, Mohamed tells us of the many protests that take place in this, the capitol city; up to 85% unemployment and poverty have given way to frustrated mobs on the street shouting and throwing rock and bottles at police in full riot gear. As we watch the scene unfold before us, Mohamed then tells us we will be fine, just give the protesters a wide berth and they will not bother us.

Several blocks down the street, the scene soon changes from a broad, wide French provincial avenue to narrow bustling alleys and tiny stalls housing all sorts of merchants, craftsmen and artists, we're now in the souk. We hear local music, smell spices and incense and see all manner of people. We're told to be careful with our cameras; most locals do not want their picture taken. When asked if we can take their picture, most give an abrupt no, some a yes and a few want money, up to 25 dirham. We soon find the only set prices are in restaurants, all other purchases must be haggled, the back and forth haggling seems to be the national pastime. Wrought iron filigree covers our heads as we traverse the souk, everyone keeping up with our leader, before finding ourselves outside the souk and beside a harbor. In front of us is a grand fortress, the earthen walls of the Kasbah of the Sultan Udayas. Outside the wall, we follow the walkway to the main gate and on entering we find something quite unexpected, the houses and buildings within the kasbah are painted white with a blue trim from the street up to about five feet. We all comment how it looks more Greek than African. Following the cobbled streets past colorful doorways and meticulously manicured potted gardens we find ourselves on a small square with a short stone wall. This plaza is situated on a high prominence with a commanding view overlooking the Atlantic Ocean at it's convergence with Rabat's harbor. Looking down, the beach below reveals surfers, a lighthouse and cottages. We soon dive back into the kasbah's neighborhood and make our way to a small cafe where we have a respite before exploring more of Rabat.

Our group splits up as we exit the Kasbah with about half our number continuing along the harbor to Hassan Tower. The sun is high as we walk, we observe a bustling city dotted with minarets across the harbor as we make our way to the tall landmark up the street. As we arrive we are met by botanical gardens bordering the unfinished mosque. Nearing the gates surrounding the tower we are met by colorful soldiers on horseback guarding the entrance. We enter to a huge courtyard filled with tall stone columns reaching for the sky. This was intended to be a huge mosque dedicated to Hassan but was never finished. This minaret was to be the world's tallest but also sits unfinished. A modest but finished mosque sits beside the Mausoleum of Mohammed V across the plaza opposite the minaret. We hear the call to afternoon prayer as we explore outside the mosque. Back on the street we explore the neighborhoods of the Ville-Nouvelle as we navigate our way without our leader. Soon we happen upon two angry mobs hurling fists and unintelligible insults at each other, we find it difficult to avoid them as it seems they are following our path. Fortunately we eluded the mayhem and found ourselves on familiar ground. Making our way back to the small hotel, we rejoin our companions, collect our luggage and descend back down to the train station.

Mohamed, after checking the train schedule, returns with unwelcome news. Informing us the Moroccan trains do not follow a strict schedule, Mohamed further explains our train is not running and we will have to catch a later train and connect with another later train to make Meknes. As we watch the sun sink in the sky and the platform fill, our train lumbers to a stop. We find the cars filled and stand with our luggage at our feet as we leave the station. After passing several stops most of our scattered group has acquired seats as a near disaster strikes. Mohamed announces our stop, we are scattered throughout a standing room only car and some of our group is exiting as Mohamed realized his mistake... "This is not our stop" he shouts, barely audible at the other end of the crowded car. Bystanders carry on the message and soon all are back on board but now have to patiently wait for empty seats. As the daylight fades we arrive at our connecting station and wait on a dark platform for our train. Mohamed tells us that our desired train would have dropped us a block from our hotel, but now we would be deposited on the other side of town. I believe this is the first time Mohamed uses the Intrepid Travel Matra "Real-Life Experience". Late but uneventfully, we board our train and soon are outside the station in Meknes splitting into small groups for our petite-taxi rides to the hotel. The petite-taxi dance is as follows; a petite-taxi pulls up, Mohamed haggles and pays, two or three travelers toss their luggage on the roof rack, the riders board and immediately speed off in the tiny vehicle. This repeats until everyone has made it outside our hotel. At the hotel we opt for getting our rooms, dropping our luggage and quickly heading out for a quick dinner. We walk down the street and enter a doorway, walk downstairs and settle in for a great Moroccan meal with great company. As we dine we soon find that we not only have a great leader but that the group seems to be very compatible. With our appetite finally satiated we head back to the hotel for a fitful sleep.