Author: Wandering Amerrickans

This is the Desert, Right?

With all the tension in this area of the world, we had been prepared to abandon ship at any moment. Reports of air space opening and closing, as well as drones and missiles flying had us a bit concerned but we felt fairly confident the airlines would steer clear of any dangerous areas – perhaps a bit foolish but…

Our flight from Paris to Abu Dhabi was rough. We experienced some of the worst turbulence we have ever experienced as we began our approach into Abu Dhabi, so bad the pilot actually pulled up out of the approach and we ended up circling at least three times before finally touching down on the rain soaked runway. Needless to say it is a miracle that neither Jenny nor I got sick, though I can say with certainty, it would have only taken one more go around before things would have turned ugly. Five hours later, I still feel a bit queasy.

Picking up the rental car, the agent warned us to be careful as there was some rain and he said the streets here flood and the cars can quickly hydroplane. We pulled out of the garage in a drizzle and I kid you not, not even five minutes later and we were in a deluge that I have rarely seen. The highways were quickly inundated, cars were getting stuck in the deep floodwaters left and right but Billy kept our little sedan on the road and moving forward. 

We arrived to the St Regis to a bit of chaos from all the rain; they had buckets everywhere to catch the water pouring in from all the leaks but the staff was wonderful, welcoming us with dates and Arabic coffee; they upgraded us to a fabulous corner suite with jaw-dropping views (when they could be seen) and allowed us to check in hours ahead of time.

I had bought tickets ahead of time to visit the Presidential Palace, a working palace not a residential one. It is a formal space where the President receives foreign heads of state in his role representing the UAE in all international relations. The UAE, a federation made up of seven emirates was founded in 1971, after gaining their independence from Great Britain and changing their former name, The Trucial States.

 We got a small break in the storms and made our way there. Once through security, they bus you over to the main building to tour that on your own.

The palace was beyond opulent and absolutely stunning. We loved looking at the display of the gifts the President has received from other countries but were a bit embarrassed by the gift given by the US – a stainless steel eagle (the symbol of or own country). The one good thing is the weather seemed to keep many people away so the crowds were quite thin.

Back at the hotel, we grabbed a couple of drinks in the bar before noticing another wave of bad weather was rolling in off the Persian Gulf.

Once it hit, we had no idea how bad it was going to be but when we poked our heads outside, we thought we should go watch it from our room on the 33rd floor.

Once again, a slight drizzle quickly turned into a complete deluge and then the wind picked up literally blowing the rain and hail completely horizontal. At one point the windows looked like someone was running a hose over them and any view was completely wiped away.  What a crazy day to think we were in the desert but there was so much water it had no place to go.

Trying to catch a taxi to dinner was next to impossible as the streets were completely overrun. We ended up offering an Uber guy cash to take us when we dropped someone off at the hotel.

Dinner was completely over the top, our own fault. Our total meal for the one night was ten times what we paid for each night’s meal in Morocco – the single most expensive meal we have ever had…and I would only categorize it as very good…

What a complete contrast this part of the trip has already been to Morocco. We have noticed it in so many ways.

Here’s Looking At You Kid

The entire reason we came to Casablanca was because Jenny said she really wanted to see the Hassan II Mosque, the only mosque in all of Morocco that we could visit. Besides the mosque, there wasn’t much else in Casablanca worth taking time from other places so I planned it so we could tour the mosque this morning before our afternoon flight on to Abu Dhabi via Paris.

I had read it was best to get there first thing in the morning so that is exactly what we did, queuing up at 8:30 for the first mandatory tour at 9:00.

The mosque is spectacular, built over seven years with laborers and artisans working 24/7 in 8 hour shifts. All the materials were sourced in Morocco except two from Italy -the 260 chandeliers (Verano glass) and two small carrera marble pillars on either side of the mirhab (the positional niche facing mecca).

The mosque holds over 25,000 worshippers inside (with an additional 80,000 outside) and boasts heated floors for winter and a roof that can slide open on nice days. The craftsmanship was magnificent and it was fun hearing the sources as many of the areas of Morocco that we had just been in.

The minaret is 690 feet tall – the second tallest in the world (behind one in Algeria) and can be seen from many parts of Casablanca. In the basement is the wash room, a gorgeous area of fountains and tile work, where the faithful go and clean themselves before praying – a very precise ritual of washing hands, forearms, and face three times each, always beginning on the right side.

We were very surprised that women were allowed in the mosque without covering their hair, though out of respect Jenny and I both did. Morocco surprised me in how culturally traditional it was as far as dress went. From the time we left Marrakesh until the time we got to Casablanca, I think I could count on one hand the number of Moroccan women who did not completely cover themselves. The vast majority left their faces exposed though I saw quite a few with full face coverings (niqabs and burqas) as well. The same went for the men, I rarely saw a man that was not dressed in a jillaba or burnous.

The mosque was fantastic! I took our planned second night from Imlil which removed our trek yesterday to make it work but we all agreed we were very happy with that decision and getting to see it.

With just two hours to kill before needing to leave for the airport, we decided to take a quick walk from the hotel passing through the old Medina. We were pleasantly surprised that we did not get hassled. It is actually against the law in Morocco to hassle tourists but locals are fair game; however many vendors do not heed the law. 

Casablanca is far different in almost every way from what we experienced and saw in the other parts of Morocco. It is far less traditional in style of dress – the number of people dressed in a more western style of dress far exceeded the numbers dressed more conservatively, including most women without their hair covered. There is far less traditional architecture, it being characterized more by colonial architecture and modern buildings – a cross Jenny said between Beverly Hills and Mexico City; I liken it more to Buenos Aires with all the once lavish building now crumbling in a serious state of disrepair, but unlike Buenos Aires it is immaculately clean.

People were constantly on the move unlike most of the small towns and villages we saw where people were either completely absent or were sitting somewhere in the shade – except for when we drove through on market day and of course, Imlil. The weather in Casablanca was glorious with temps in the low 70s – we had similar temps at the coast in Douira but with far more humidity. Even though Casablanca is also on the coast, there was no humidity felt. 

The only thing I knew about Casablanca before coming, was what I learned about its place in history during WWII from the movie, a required watch in Dr. Collins’ 12th grade English class. There is a place here called Rick’s Cafe, and as I understand it, it is just like the one in the movie – if we had had more time, we would have gone in and looked for Sam.

Our drive to the airport was rather interesting. Apparently, the king is in Casablanca for three days and the highways were crawling with police for 30 kilometers outside of the city, every overpass had four officers standing with another set of officers stationed on the ground below. Every maybe 1/8 mile there was another 2 or 3 patrol cars and/or motorcycles positioned. Every small offshoot on the main road leading to the airport had a police officer standing. It was a beyond extensive and really quite something to see. 

Our flight departed from Casablanca airport (originally Nouasseur Air Base – the American air base used to stage all US aircraft for the European Theater during WWII) for Paris, where after a 2 1/2 hour layover we caught our six hour flight to Abu Dhabi.

All three of us loved Morocco – we especially loved how unbelievably friendly everyone we encountered was, in a most authentic way. Our visit was appreciated every stop we made – we never felt nor saw any anti-American sentiment. There was some vocal disbelief that America is looking at electing either “an old man or a conman…” Most reacted, upon hearing we were American, by holding a closed hand to their heart – a gesture meant to show respect and gratitude. This trip, once again, dispelled a lot of myths and gave us a much different perspective on Moroccan men, specifically. Billy said today, they we never witnessed anyone yelling or encountered anyone in a bad mood; everyone is grateful and appreciative – from our tuk tuk driver, to the children whose pictures Jenny took, to the  man who owned a little roadside store where we stopped for water, to the old woman Jenny gave coins to who was begging on the streets – all thanked us profusely, kindly and most importantly sincerely.

The natural beauty of Morocco resonated not only through our eyes with every new scene we saw but through our hearts with every new hand we shook. 

Shukran Morocco for a wonderfully beautiful trip; we would happily return.

Picture Day

I got up before my crew and headed out for an early morning walk to see some of Imlil without the utter madness it was yesterday.

There is a beautiful river that runs through town. I imagine at this time of year it is typically running harder but Rashid had said they did not get any snow this year at all. Normally they would have received up to 15 feet of snow on the mountain tops and a few feet in the village; there should still be snow in the shady spots right now he said, instead it was seventy degrees.

After breakfast, we had invited all of the children of the village to come for an instamatic picture if they’d like. The first to show up were two adorable boys – maybe 5 and 7 years old. The youngest one had on a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt and when I said basketball and pretended to dribble and shoot, he immediately imitated me – so cute!

One by one Jenny took their picture individually, then group shots (one for each child), then the ladies had their pictures individually, then together, then they asked if they could have one with me, then they said Billy should join in and finally they asked for one with Jenny. That was the only time I asked if I too could take a picture of them. I did not want to intrude on the fun they were all having getting the photos (and they were having so much fun) and certainly did not want them to think we used that as a way to get their photo.

Before leaving home, I had read there was no reason to buy your train tickets ahead of time so in the interest of having a small amount of flexibility I didn’t. But when I decided to go ahead and buy them yesterday, since we felt pretty certain of our plans today, I couldn’t buy any – they were all sold out. Turns out, today is the final day of the vacation and everyone who came to Marrakesh for vacation would be leaving today to go back to Casablanca- our destination this evening.

A bit panicked, I asked our car rental agency if we could drop the car in Casablanca and pay the drop fee. No problem, she said until 5 minutes later she said she was wrong, they had it contracted for this afternoon. But she was very nice and gave us an option of a private transfer, which I gladly took, as it really was our only choice but with one caveat- she had to tell the driver not to drive crazy like all the insane taxis we had passed.

Driving back through Imlil was already getting crazy – at one point three of us, all trying to go in different directions with a mule porter in the middle.

We made it to our meeting spot to drop The Camel off right on time. The Camel you ask? That was what we named our car, a Dacia Duster, because she could seemingly go days without needing fuel. In fact, we stopped to put fuel a second time only because we thought for sure the gas gauge must be broken. We drove 1226 miles and only burned 20 gallons of diesel!

Another highway drive (I am finally a passenger) and a few more sights: busses travel with both their engine cover and their passenger door open…

It took us about 3 1/2 hours to make the drive to Casablanca through flat lands that could easily stand in for Iowa farm country. Pulling into Casablanca felt like a world away from everywhere else in Morocco we have been. It’s huge- 1.5x the population size of Marrakesh, urban, busy and nondescript. I had read there is not much reason to visit Casablanca and frankly we wouldn’t have except this is where we are flying out of and Jenny really wanted to see the mosque here.

Dinner was a total disaster… unfortunate our last night in Morocco but I’m glad every other night has been somewhere on the spectrum from very good to fantastic.

Don’t Go To The Mountains On…

Our night’s sleep was actually good, minus the incessant barking dogs but at least there were no mosquitoes buzzing in our ears!

We had a nice breakfast up on the terrace and enjoyed chatting with a young couple from Colorado who had been there for a week horseback riding. We felt lucky because yesterday the weather was perfect but by 9:00 this morning, a heavy fog bank rolled in and wiped out any view of the ocean.

I actually really enjoyed our stay here; It had a great vibe and the people were terrific. I could easily hang there for a week watching the breakers roll in.

We didn’t waste time this morning as we had our longest drive yet. Today we were going from the coast to the mountains (and I know that’s not saying much since Morocco has A LOT of mountains), an expected five-hour drive.

Within minutes of leaving we passed miles and miles and miles of greenhouses. We were not able to figure out what was in the them but it was beyond extensive.

We planned to drive the fastest route – an actual toll highway that had two lanes in both directions and came complete with full tarmac coverage and sound shoulders. The highway turned out to be a good place to spy more Moroccan things that baffled us – like how they transport items, especially livestock, including cows – on the tops of trucks with nothing holding them in should they hit a big bump.

We crossed from the land of red rock, to the land of yellow rock, to a flat arid plain that was almost white, the whole time we could zero mountains – not even the faintest outline, before we hit the green and started climbing.

It wasn’t long before obvious signs from the earthquake that devastated this area in October were evident. We passed the open fields where so many people are still living in tents and crumbled and cracked buildings. The road was littered with rockslides, some still blocking lanes, and in many parts burying the guardrails. We were basically headed to the epicenter of the 6.9 earthquake high in the Atlas Mountains to Imlil – a town known for trekking, and had we had more time, we would be doing a few.

One thing we quickly learned was not to go to the mountains on market day, not to go on a Saturday, not to go when the temperatures are running 10-20 degrees above normal, and not to go the first weekend after Ramadan – we now know this for next time because had you told me that what I was going to be driving into was the utter chaos we found ourselves in, I wouldn’t be staring at the majestic Mount Toubkal right now. This was by far the most wild driving experience I have ever had.

Mount Toubkal is the tallest mountain in North Africa. It stands at an elevation of 13,671 feet and is glacial year round.It can be summitted via a two day trek leaving from Imlil.

Finding the small alleyway that we had to take to the riad was a bit tricky, but with Billy’s sharp eye, we located it. We parked the car and made the rest of the way on the trail.

The views from the riad were stunning, it is one of the reasons why I chose it. We were warmly welcomed with an offer of tea and enjoyed a conversation with the two brothers who are the owners, Rashid and Ibrahim. They said this whole village is just their extended family. It began a few generations back with just two houses – their great great grandfather’s and his brother. They said they own land across the river in Imlil but they didn’t want to build there because there are too many tourists always coming up from other parts of Morocco.

The riad is really cool, built into the side of the mountain and overlooking the verdant river valley below.

The call to prayer here was incredible, reverberating through the valley…

We had a delicious dinner of salad (a funky salad mixed with banana, apple, grapefruit, cucumber, olives, tomato, and spices but it was really good), the best bread we’ve had on the trip, and we each got our own chicken, lemon and saffron tagine – I told them when they brought it, it was way too much but they insisted and you know what? We ate every last morsel!

After dinner, Jenny wanted to take a walk into town since we didn’t get one earlier as she went down hard with a migraine. We asked one of the ladies if it was OK and she asked us, “Aren’t you scared from the dark?” We showed her our flashlights and she then said,” OK, no problem. No o w will harm you here. In this village you are safe.” So we set off. for a walk into the village. This may be a quarter mile, but it was dark. The village was still fairly lively, but your shop was open. People were still coming and going. We found it interesting that we didn’t get very many stairs. None of the men seem to take much notice of us, and we felt very comfortable.

The Coast

Our night was a bit rough… hot without AC and an open window to cool the room let a mosquito in, which of course buzzed all of us to the point Billy had to turn lights on at 2:30 to try and kill it. He never succeeded but thank goodness the mosquito never resurfaced.

It was a bit of a leisurely departure, we had a nice breakfast on the terrace, another great chat with Jean, and then Jenny and Lila exchanged contacts before we headed out dropping Lila off in her village.

As we pulled into town, Billy noticed Mohammed (the shop owner who stopped on his moped yesterday) sitting on a nearby wall; Mohammed noticed us and jumped up and walked over to the car. He asked if we were leaving town and would we come by. I assured Mohammed we were not interesting in buying rugs or anything like that. “No problem. You can come take a look anyhow. We have many many other things too.”

We somewhat reluctantly followed Mohammed to his shop, Maison du Troc, where we walked into a room piled high on all sides with carpets. He then led us into another room that was full of an array of other items including jewelry (which was what we were after and actually where we were headed when he abducted us). Billy and Jenny spent some time perusing it but before you knew it, we found our selves in an even larger room, maybe twice the size of the entry room with rugs piled up just as high and Mohammed giving us a lesson on the various rugs. It was actually quite interesting and his knowledge and respect for the craftsmanship was impressive and…before you knew it…we bought one. A little one but still. Truth be told, there were a few we would have bought and the crazy thing is in Marrakesh the bigger ones were selling for $5,000-$8,000, here they were selling for $450-$800. I am sorry I got so wrapped up in the moment that I forgot to take pictures.

All told we bought 1 rug for me, 1 painting for Jenny (which they removed from the stretchers and rolled up), and two silver bracelets – one for each of us. Mohammed was funny because he said he knew when I said we wouldn’t be buying anything that dad would be saying yes!

As we were leaving, Mohammed overheard that Jenny was looking for apples to eat. He saw her and Billy walking towards the fruit stand but he quickly stopped them, went into a small restaurant (where our Swiss friends were actually dining) and came out of the kitchen with four apples for Jenny, and then refused to accept payment for them.

We finally made it of town at 1:00, backtracking on some of the road we had entered town on, passed through another checkpoint successfully and immediately were blown away by yet another drive through the majestic Anti Atlas mountains.

We are amazed by all the terraces that there are- obviously old ones that are crumbling and some newer or better maintained ones. In such a dry climate, I wonder what they could have possibly grown on all these mountainsides.

By now, you have heard it said that the mountains are incredible and the scenery just stunning but… you are going to hear it again, because it is truly breathtaking.

We stopped for a while to watch a flock of camels and all their little babies, some seemingly wobbling on their stilted legs.

The only stop I had planned was at an agadir – think of it like a modern-day storage facility. Unfortunately, the man with the main key was not there so we couldn’t go in to see it. However, two young boys decided to join us and walk us around the outside, then over to the ruins of another facility of some sort, where we picked up another tour guide.

There was little we understood but the experience was rich and one of the boys found a baby tortoise he showed us, which I loved (as I once had a tortoise as a pet).

As we were leaving a group of older women, all dressed in beautifully colored kaftans, approached the car. We stopped, rolled down the window, greeted them and they immediately approached the car talking and gesturing to us. Jenny didn’t understand a word they were saying, nothing about it was even remotely familiar. At one point, they noticed Billy in the back and appeared to be laughing the two women were up front and the man was in the back. It was a funny exchange, the one lady was so spunky.

Finding our road was a bit of an adventure. It is located on a bluff high above the Atlantic Ocean. Five failed attempts (including two by Billy) to make it up a sandy road before the owner came out to redirect us, with the help of a local guy Ibrahim, that jumped in the car with us to reroute us another way.

The riad is actually pretty cool – in a fun and funky way; it is very authentic in its age and that has been incorporated into the design. You got to love that you don’t need a nightlight because there is plenty coming through the inch-wide cracks in the door, not to mention the three-inch wide gap around the door.

We walked down to the edge of the bluff overlooking the waves and watched the local fishermen, one of who stopped by on his way down to say hello and welcome us. Salah works in the enormous desalination plant that is just up the coast and wanted to know if we could exchange numbers so we could talk from America.

Dinner was abundant, ridiculously so, with a chicken tagine with lemon and olives which were almost too bitter to eat, probably our least favorite of the trip. We had great conversations with one of the friends of the owner, also called Ibrahim, and the owners – a young woman I believe of Moroccan heritage (though she was dressed in shorts and a tank top and a much older French husband who was Armenian by birth). We had a lot of laughs, especially when Ibrahim did his take of the US southern accent.

We figured sleeping was going to be OK as far as the temperature went since there was no A/C, between the air passing through the door and the bathroom window open, we figured it would stay cool. Billy considered opening the bedroom window but when he saw how low to the ground it was, he quickly changed his mind – not because of the fear of human intruders though, but because he figured we would have a pack of dogs in here by morning.

Jean Was Right

Yesterday just as we were pulling into the Traditional House Museum, Jenny got an email that she had been shortlisted for an internship she had applied for – that was great news. The email told her she had 24 hours to complete a written assignment- that was the bad news. I suppose it was serendipity that we were staying two nights in Tafraout because there would have been no way for Jenny to complete the required assignment otherwise – and that’s exactly what she spent the day doing…

Following a very pleasant breakfast on the front terrace, where Ahmed shared a traditional sweet that is served for Eid, Jenny took a seat at a table and began working while Billy and I went over today’s planned drive with Jean, the owner of the inn. When I told him what I had scheduled for us to do, he said it was in his top three favorite things in all of Morocco (number one being the mosque in Casablanca and number two being the palace). He warned that one of the sections of the drive would be on rough unpaved road and instead suggested we do an out and back – we would also get the full wow factor of the views he said since we would see it from both directions – so we planned on that!

It was tough leaving Jenny behind but we were very proud of her for choosing to spend her day doing a written assignment that she could have just as easily taken a pass on.

You know what they say about what a difference a day makes? Well never have I seen that so clearly as this morning when we drove back through the town. What yesterday was a deserted village with locked storefronts and mostly empty streets, today was a vibrant community filled with people shopping and carrying on – Ramadan was over and people were back to their ways of life.

Driving out of town we remarked how the area reminded us of Zion and red rock country. The hills were made up of giant red boulders rubbed smooth by the forces of wind. I pulled over to take a picture and this man comes up on a little moped and stops to ask us if everything was ok. Turns out Mohammed owns the shop that Jean had used for the interior decoration at the inn. He was a pleasant guy and had hoped we would come take a look at his store.

I can say this with no doubt that everybody we have encountered here have been so nice and so welcoming. Villagers always return our waves and greet us with smiles. The only exception has been many of the women who will pull their head covering over the face when they hear or see the car coming, but that’s not to be taken as a sign of unfriendliness, it is cultural.

The only good thing about Jenny staying behind was that I think she would have suffered terribly from car sickness as the road was insane, in more ways than one but the hairpin turns basically brought us to about 5mph. In fact, I never reached more than 25mph for the majority of the four hour drive because not only was I maneuvering tight turns but the asphalt was not wide enough for two cars to pass without running off onto the shoulder and more often than not, the shoulder (sometimes on both sides) was severely undercut or missing altogether so I had to use extreme caution. There were a few times I told Billy that I didn’t know what we’d do if we met up with another car but thank goodness we only passed four the entire time.

The drive had us gaining a bit more than 4000’ in elevation where we leveled off briefly before beginning the descent into Mansour Gorge. If we thought the drive yesterday was spectacular, today knocked it out of the park. The landscape certainly gave off a strong feeling of being out west but that quickly dissipated when we hit the bottom of the gorge and the palm valley oasis. Unlike both the Draa Valley and Tata, where we had been a few days prior, the flora of this oasis was incredibly vibrant and healthy. Perhaps because there was clearly plenty of water as the falaj system was running strong delivering the liquid gold where it was most needed.

The drive through the oasis was magnificent with the lushness and greenery of the palm, olive, and almond trees creating a striking contrast against the soaring red cliffs- all topped off by a blue sky – wow, just wow!

There were villages mixed in here and there built into the surrounding cliffs and a few homes and even a small elementary school (easily discernible by the Mickey Mouse painted on the outside wall) in the middle of the oasis. We saw a few local families enjoying the shade and the waters of the oasis.

And as we came to the end of it, we were happy to say, we got to turn around and see it all again!

Yesterday once we had made it to town, we had sought out an ATM and while heading to our hotel we passed the people from earlier. I stopped the car and jokingly hollered over to them, “We made it!” They laughed and said they had been watching for us. We had a short chat with them, and they were inquisitive as to how we came to be in this part of Morocco, more pointedly because we are Americans. Today, high up on the pass, we ran into them a third time, “You again,” I said. Turns out they were Swiss and again were interested in us being American. Billy told him what Elhoussaine had said about us, we are travelers not tourists. They too were driving a Dacia Duster and he told us they rented it for reminiscence sake because ten years ago they were in Morocco and got stuck on a road (actually the same road we drove the first day) for forty hours after it was overrun by flood waters. The and about thirty other cars spent two nights sleeping in their automobiles while local villagers brought them soup and other food. I could not imagine trying to sleep in this car but I suppose when traveling like this you do what you have to do!

We were back at the inn by 3:30 and Jenny was just finishing up and hitting submit. She and Billy decided to take a swim and relax by the pool for a bit. We later enjoyed a stroll through the beautiful gardens, drinks on the terrace (the weather was just glorious) and I finally got to hear the call to prayer.

We finished our day with another delicious meal of … tagine- chicken with orange and saffron, along with some cinnamon studded couscous. Jenny placed it now in her number 3 spot. The dessert was off the charts delicious- Billy saying it was the best he had ever eaten. I thought of my dad and how much he would have loved it – a rich chocolate mousse with a coffee gelee on top – truly decadent!

Chicken and Cumin

We had a goodnight’s sleep, an almost too cold of one as the only thing on the bed was a sheet. But I’ll take that over sweating any day!

We had decided last night that we wanted to take a walk through the old village before breakfast. Our hostess had said it was fine so we headed out about 8:00 AM. A few minutes in to the walk, we came across a woman maybe 70 years old who stopped when we greeted her. She returned the greeting but of course, I could not understand and before I could even try to apologize somehow, Jenny responded and the two of them had a short exchange in Arabic. I literally had chills and the biggest grin on my face. It was one of the purest sweetest moments I have experienced in any of our trips! I’m literally still grinning thinking about it!!

We headed out, making it unscathed through another checkpoint and started west. We were literally only 20 minutes outside of Tata before the scenery began eliciting audible, “Wows.” The mountains, more visible today though not perfectly clear, were stunning. The geological features really stood out with all the striations and folding that clearly took place.

Following the GPS, we were directed to turn left down a much smaller roadway. I immediately had some concerns about the road we were on and pulled over to double check the paper map I had purchased as the backup to a technological failure. It seemed correct so we soldiered on. A few miles later we encountered an area where parts of the road were completely washed out and then sections so undercut by erosion that, while marked by small rocks not to drive over it, I was feeling quite surprised this was the best way between Point A and d point B. I voiced my concerns but Billy felt certain we were were on the right track, and besides we had full cell coverage.

I was feeling very uneasy about it until we rounded a bend and there were two cars pulled to the side with three Westerners standing around. I stopped to ask if all was OK. They responded yes and then I asked them if this was the road to Tafraoute. They assured me it was and that they were also headed there. I let them know how happy I was to hear that and that I was glad to know they were now behind us so they could save us if anything happened! From there on out I relaxed quite a bit and honestly, if I had not have passed them, the drive would have been totally different because we did not pass a single anything for the next hour or so.

The drive though was spectacular – with a capital S. The lack of guardrails in some spots kept me on my toes all the while fighting myself to keep my eyes on the road and not the majestic landscape surrounding us. We hit an elevation of about 6500’ and were surprised at just how far off in the distance we could see.

The only stop I had really wanted to make was at a place called Le Maison Traditionale, a small museum, if you will, that shows what life in a traditional village home was like.

We parked the car at the end of the road, right in front of the cemetery and next to the mosque. Muslim cemeteries are quite unique in that they typically have no headstone but will leave a broken piece of pottery in its place.

The owner of the museum, Mustafah, spoke very good English and welcomed us in. The home had been in his family for generations, but had been running as a museum now for forty years. We entered the 400 year old building on the ground level where the livestock was kept – usually a donkey, a cow, and some goats. There was also the working area where the grinding stones were found to create flour from wheat or barley and oil from argan nuts.

The second floor housed a kitchen in the middle with a chute in the corner that dumped straight into the animal pen below to feed the livestock the vegetable shavings. The kitchen was elevated up one two-foot high step to keep the toddlers safe from entering.

The halls surrounding the central kitchen were for sleeping. There was a separate room for children to sleep- girls to one side, boys to the other and grandmother in the middle. Mustafah mentioned that previous generations had ten plus children but today it is more like four, when I said, “or one,” he was surprised Jenny was an only child. He started to giggle a bit and inquired , “You know what we call the girl when she is the only daughter of a foreign family that has money? Chicken and Cumin!” We all had a good laugh – instead of calling Jenny Cheechie, I could start calling her C&C!!!

The third floor was reserved for guests who come to visit. Musafah invited us in, welcomed us to sit and prepared us some tea. He also dressed Jenny in a stunning blue kaftan and played a few of the traditional instruments he had (he also played an American banjo and did a mean rendition of “Oh! Susanna”).

We reached our hotel for the next two nights – a lovely newly built inn by a French couple. We were surprised by the pool, thrilled we could get a cold beer and pleased with the accommodations (though the A/C is not working).

We had a delicious tagine for dinner, this time beef with peas, haricot vert, zucchini and fresh artichoke hearts. Billy absolutely loved it, it was Jenny’s least favorite, and I placed it somewhere in the middle.

It is nice to know we have a second night here. It will fulfill its intended purpose to give us a small break from the constant moving and allow us an unhurried opportunity to see the stunning landscape surrounding us!

Today was Eid al-Fitr, the last day of Ramadan and the breaking of the fast. At dinner, Billy said to the waitress, “Your fast is over now, you got to eat and be happy.” She quickly responded with a big smile on her face, “I was happy before too…”

Eid is set to the sighting of the new moon and tonight was a picture perfect example (taken by Jenny out of her bedroom window).

Two More For The List

Our night was a bit rough though Billy says his watch said he had one of his best sleep scores ever… go figure. I can assure you that neither my night nor Jenny’s was equivalent.

The perfectly calm weather had changed drastically overnight and by 7:00 AM, the winds were whipping. We couldn’t walk the thirty feet to the communal tent without our eyes getting sandblasted – it makes perfect sense to me now why camels have long eyelashes and bushy eyebrows.

Today was going to be a basic washout so since we had a fairly long drive ahead of us, we cut our losses and decided to leave after breakfast.

As we waited for the other parties, we struck up a conversation with Mohammed. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind leaving Jenny behind; I told him not a chance. He said he would turn her into a strong woman; I told him she already is. He said she must take after her mother then; I told him he was a smart man…We chuckled and continued on with a more realistic conversation.

I asked him to clarify if this was the Sahara; he did so quickly and with the utmost certainty. He scoffed at anybody saying otherwise, pointing out that they were most likely outsiders, not descendants of a people who have lived here for eons.

He was intrigued when I spoke of wisdom and wanted to understand what it meant. After giving him my best description, he repeated the word over and over- as though trying to commit it to memory. I wish we had had more time to speak to him; we never saw him last night and I would have loved to learn more about the traditions of the Berbers from him.

Our ride out was a wild one with the blowing sand literally creating “white out” conditions. The sand was shifting so fast that the tracks were getting covered, to the point Mohammed actually got stuck. We swung back around to see if we could help, but by the time we got there, he was free!

Once back in the village of M’hamid, Mohammed led us to an ATM where we finally met with success and were able to get some Moroccan dirham! We bid him, “mae-salama,” and headed north.

We weren’t five minutes on the road before we hit a police checkpoint. I stuck to my M.O. and, for a second as he approached the car, I thought he was going to harass me but instead, he waved us through. Yesterday, we hit another four or five checkpoints and were waved through all of them – at one of them I was certain I was going to get “fined” because we all lost track of our vigilance when we were looking off to the side at our first flock of camels, and I came into a checkpoint a bit faster than the posted speed. The Gendarmarie got up from his seated position carrying some sort of radar gun, walked over to the car with it in hand, then waved me through. The French couple that helped us out earlier said they had gotten taken for 15 Euros because they were told they hadn’t stopped at the sign.

As I said previously, there are so many additional hazards to look out for while driving here and so we can now add camels to the list.

We backtracked north an hour and a half of the same road we had taken yesterday before we turned west to make the 140 or so mile drive to our next destination, Tata. It became evident, rather quickly, that this road crossed desolate lands. We passed more camels than cars or buildings in the two and a half hour drive. It probably comes in somewhere in the top five of most isolated places we have covered.

And in all honestly, there were a few moments there that I thought things could easily go bad for us out here, especially when we encountered literal sand dunes that had formed on the road. Add another Moroccan driving hazard to the list because hitting one of those going 65 miles an hour might not have been so fun!

Unfortunately for us, the scenery was affected by all of the sand particles suspended in the air. The mountains on either side were almost completely obscured while the sun’s rays were blocked, leaving the atmosphere looking like a cross between a thick fog bank and the smoke generated from a large forest fire.

Once we made it through to the first town, and successfully past another checkpoint (though it was a close one because we were all looking up at the boulder covered mountain), Billy noticed a valley off to the right. I was so glad he noticed it because I had been advised to look for it. It was so cool – a deep oasis with plenty of water and a beautiful mosque overlooking it.

By 4:30 we pulled into Tata, tanked up the car and made our way through the deserted streets, minus two more checkpoints which we were again waved through (one even giving us a thumbs up instead). We made the final turn towards tonight’s riad down a trash-strewn dirt road heading straight into the old village. I was a bit nervous, trying to remember the reviews from this place. Tata was not really a destination for us, it was just a stop to break up an otherwise ghastly long drive and the overnight accommodation selection had been slim pickings.

We pulled into the parking lot where we saw two motorcycles (the type that are very common to the people who tour) and felt some relief in misery loves company. But, as it turns out, there was no misery. In fact, except for our bathroom being located outside of our bedroom, the riad was charming in the most authentic unpretentious way.

The owner was an absolutely adorable woman who clearly is trying hard beyond imagination to create something nice and comfortable for her guests. She was warm and welcoming and humble and gracious all at once.

She offered us some welcome tea and asked if we’d like to have it up on the terrace. We obliged her and were so glad we did as the breeze was nice and it was a very cool perspective looking down on the palmeral. I can only imagine what the views would be like if we could see them!

Our hostess prepared a wonderful meal – a traditional soup followed by a lemon and green olive chicken tagine (bumping last night’s tagine down to fourth place – though I still appreciated all the vegetables in that one), followed by a fruit cup (the camp’s was better).

We were all very happy to retire to an air conditioned room for the night!

Sahara Bound

I always love waking up to the braying of donkeys…and especially hearing Jenny giggling to it; it sets the mood for the day to come…

We had a nice homemade breakfast sitting on the terrace but by 9:30, the sun was warming things up quickly and we realized we were in for a change.

The cute girls from yesterday had come to work today in their best outfits hoping Jenny would take another picture of them. She happily did, taking enough for each one of them to receive one. The youngest looking of the girls, who was maybe 17 or so, then shyly asked if she could have a picture taken with her and Jenny – so sweet.

We continued south today, heading down towards the Sahara Desert and the Algerian border. We traveled through the Draa Valley, a long oasis that has unfortunately fallen victim to a drought. So many of the palm trees were dead or clearly dying. There were even a few stands that had been cremated by fire.

Each town we passed through was more authentic and traditional than the previous one. I love how colorful the Moroccan women dress, their melhfas are brightly hued in either solids or patterns and if black, adorned with lots of colorful elements. As we traveled further south, there was little doubt this area sees far fewer tourists.

One thing we noticed was how many children there are. Billy remarked that Morocco’s demographics appear to be in good shape. At one point, I pulled over to take a picture of an old kasbah and was quickly surrounded by children speaking to me in French. I was sad I couldn’t understand though I made out the fact they were hungry.

The landscape eventually turned desolate, as did the roads. There were quite a few stretches of time we did not see anyone else or any sign of civilization. When we finally made it to our prearranged meeting point with our Berber guide and host, it was 2:00. We had a difficult time figuring out exactly where to meet up with him but with the help of some locals and a French couple, we finally hooked up with Mohammed.

We dropped our car off and loaded things into the one of two Land Cruisers that had a huge Dakar sticker on it and set off into the desert with Mark (I imagine not his real name), who spoke not a word of English or French. Jenny was worth her weight in gold communicating with her limited Arabic skills.

Our drive took us out into the desert on an old caravan route that crisscrossed terrain covered in baseball, and even football size rocks. The drive in was long, stopping only to allow the other car to catch up to us and to check out a small oasis where you could see the water bubbling up from underneath the sand.

It was 5:30 by the time we reached the camp and both Jenny and I had started getting headaches from all the jostling. Thank goodness they let Jenny ride shotgun because I can assure you she would never have made it without getting ill.

The dunes of Erg Chigaga were gob smacking. They were twice the size of the dunes in Wahiba Sands, Oman. After climbing to the top of one and spending time taking it all in, Billy said he had never seen anything like it (since he missed the trip to Oman) and wondered if he would ever see anything like it again.

We sat on top of the dune until long after sunset, watching the stars slowly start to pop out. It was 8:30 before we were called for dinner – a hearty lentil soup followed by a chicken and mixed vegetable tagine, set outside on a lovely candlelit table.

It was quite good but it ranked third so far out of the three dinners we have had. The dessert, a mixed bowl of chopped fresh fruit was the highlight.

After dinner, we climbed back up to the top of the dune, cresting over the backside to block any light from the camp and watched the stars for at least another hour. Jenny laid there and waited until she saw a shooting star. She remarked that she could look at the stars for hours and how there is nothing that puts into perspective just how minute we actually are. Space is such a remarkable place, the concept of it is often difficult to wrap your head around.

By 10:15 we decided to turn in. Our accommodations while comfortable in most aspects were unbearably hot.

All of us like to sleep in a cold room. We keep our bedroom at 60 degrees, sometimes even down to 58 in the winter so a hot bedroom never sits well with us. Trying to find a position to sleep where you could minimize your own skin from touching was key, otherwise you would immediately begin sweating!

All That You Read Is Not Always To Be

We had a fantastic night’s sleep but morning came too early… I opened my eyes to see Jenny already showered and getting under way to start the day – a bit of an atypical situation.

We enjoyed a delicious breakfast up on the roof terrace where once again, Ridouan was there with a big smile and warm service and he extended a very sincere invitation again (he had done so last night) to us to come and spend time celebrating Eid with him and his family beginning Tuesday since we were heading down towards his village. Honestly, if we could make it work, we would all do it in a heartbeat!

I had arranged to have a guide for the few hours we would have in Marrakesh this morning so we could get the most of our limited time and get to at least see some of the medina. I was hesitant in my planning to spend much time here as a hot crowded city did not appeal, nor did all the reported touts pushing you to buy rugs or handicrafts, and as you probably know, we prefer smaller towns and villages to large urban areas. 

Our guide Yaseen was waiting for us right on time and as we made our way out, we didn’t get past the front door before he stopped to describe it. Reminiscence from the guide Jenny and I briefly had in Nizwa, Oman set in and I thought we were going to have a tough two hours trying to move him along. But, as the morning unfolded, Yaseen quickly adapted to our style and we ended up having some very nice chats and covered a considerable amount of ground. He even shared how much he liked Americans and how his best friend is an American woman!

We certainly missed all the “highlights” people say you should see, but we did the things we enjoy like taking pictures; saw some places we wanted, including the Ben Youssef mosque (the oldest mosque in Marrakesh) though we were not allowed in; walked through Jemaa el-Fnaa (the most famous square in all of Morocco and a UNESCO site) where, while it was fairly quiet, we still saw the famous Moroccan snake charmers as well as the citizens of Marrakesh going about their daily lives.

We also took a tuk-tuk ride to go outside the city walls and see some of the newer areas of Marrakesh-basically having a quick comparison of 11th century Marrakesh to 20th century Marrakesh.

Part of the decision in not staying longer in Marrakesh was in all that I had read about being harassed by the trinket sellers, the henna artists, the “guides” offering to help you find your way, only to then demand money, etc. I had read that the men here are more apt to leer at us (Jenny especially). And I had read that it was packed with tourists, and there was not much authenticity left. We found little of that to be true. It might have helped we are here during Ramadan, and we were walking around the morning after one of the biggest evening celebrations when Muslims stay up until late in the night celebrating with family, but our morning was nothing but pleasant, including the weather as two days previous was close to 100 degrees!

By 11:30, we returned to the Riad, grabbed our bags and met the lady who was renting us a car. I got a bit nervous when she said the car was just a short walk as that meant in the Medina (a rather chaotic place) and as it turned out it was, but she offered for me to follow her out and get us going in the right direction – a huge help!

We immediately had to stop to tank the car up, and of course a road trip is not a road trip with Jenny unless we stop for sustenance and snacks, and finally we were on our way for the intended five hour drive south. Billy acted as my trusty navigator and he did not let me down.

The scenery changed quickly after leaving Marrakesh as we started towards the Atlas Mountains. The landscape became greener with lots of wildflowers while the tops of the mountains still had snow on them – such a strange thing to think snow in northern Africa in April. If we had had any regrets in not staying longer in Marrakesh, they quickly dissipated as we marveled at the scenery.

It wasn’t long either before we quickly realized that the Moroccans are crazy drivers – Jenny and I decided they were either tailgaters like the Omanis, or just plain suicidal like the Bosnians. I honestly think at one point the two lane highway had five motorized vehicles side by side at some point of passing. If you ask me, the Moroccans think the center line is meant to be straddled, not kept on the left. We were completely awe-struck when at one point we were headed downhill and a taxi came flying by me, and took the next bend in the right lane of the two-lane uphill side. We actually came upon a very bad one-car accident with a car that had flown past us. Needless to say every blind corner has me hugging…and I mean hugging, the far right shoulder. Not to mention having to watch out for the mopeds, bicycles, pedestrians, trucks, goats, dogs, and boulders that are frequently found in and along the sides of the road. The amount of rockslides we drove past is insane!

Our drive up and over the Tizi n”Tichka pass, where we topped out at about 6,500’, was marvelous – truly spectacular. It was unfortunate there was a heavy haze hanging in the air, some sort of Saharan dust we think, that obscured some of the views but even so, it was simply gorgeous.

We encountered the many forewarned police checkpoints – six in total – but at each one I made the complete stop like I had read was requisite and at each one, we were waved through. We of course made some stops where reasonably safe to take pictures, and at ATMs, as we have yet been able to get any money…(maybe the police knew)!

We arrived in Agdz at 6:00, making our way through the backstreets, past smiling waving children, down a dirt road that ran through an oasis of palm trees to find our accommodation for the evening. We received another very warm welcome from the staff and another round of hot mint tea, but this time sweetened.

We chatted with the host for a while who took an interest in Jenny’s instant camera. It wasn’t long before he asked if she could take a photo of he and the ladies who worked in the kitchen and dining areas. They were all so tickled by it; they hung it straight up on the refrigerator (literally putting tears in Jenny’s eyes).

Since there was but little daylight left, we took a quick stroll outside the garden gates where we encountered so many friendly locals greeting us in Arabic, French and English. Two young boys took an interest to us and immediately followed us into the old village. Jenny asked them their names in Arabic and then offered them a picture. The older one quickly rejected it but the younger one gladly posed for it. Of course, when the older one saw the photo of the younger one, he then stood for his chance to also get one, which Jenny gladly obliged. They were so cute in making sure they could keep them for themselves.

We returned to the inn where we had a delicious dinner of roast chicken piled with noodles in a semi sweet cinnamon and golden raisin sauce – not something any of us would typically order so it made it all the more enjoyable. It was a very pleasant evening sitting out on the terrace, overlooking the gardens, with a warm breeze blowing, sipping on a glass of Portuguese red wine we had picked up at the duty free in Lisbon!

All is good so far in Morocco…