Mountain Villages, Morocco 2017

A major part of the joy in travelling with the "Texas camel corps" is the off-beat itinerary and impromptu daily contacts. From Marrakesh, we take a day trip into the High Atlas mountains. On a good road we wind and switchback higher and higher. At a viewpoint we briefly browse the crafts for sale, and Doug never misses a chance to talk camels and saddles.

Later reaching a fork, the route on the right will take us to Ouikaimeden, our high destination. But first, the cops sitting in their car at the fork stop us. Our driver Mohamed is told to get out of our vehicle and go to their car. Eh?! Lengthy conversation takes place; finally Doug gets out to see what's up. Back and forth to our van for paperwork. Phone calls ensue. We are resigned to a potentially new twist in our agenda.

However the police were only checking out the rental contract for our van. Some of us suspect they were merely bored sitting there all day with next to no traffic. Having been stopped occasionally before, the big difference here – Mohamed grins at this – no baksheesh changed hands.

We're heading to the snow line, more hairpin curves, the road becomes one lane, then ultimately fades away into a sheep path. The highest mountain in Africa, Toubkall at 4,167 metres, is just beyond us; we are at about 9,000 feet elevation. There's a ski resort here but it's spring, season over. Flocks of sheep feasting on green grass. Heather goes off to a shepherd hut to commune with her new Berber self.

Seasonal homes dot the mountainside above the road. Tagines are bubbling at a nearby outdoor restaurant; lunch time. We share beef, lamb, and goat. A man selling bracelets and necklaces comes, persisting, but otherwise it's all pretty deserted. The royal gendarmerie next door looks semi-abandoned.

On a new route, we follow the course of a steep-sided river to come down from great heights. Lots of kids playing along the way; it's a school holiday.

The road runs along one side of the valley, carved out of the mountainsides; people live on the opposite side of the river. Their homes are connected to the road side by crazy foot bridges, some in better shape than others. Their balancing skills must be excellent.

 

Courtesy Mark Charteris

The lower we descend, the more the scene turns into a sort of endless restaurant row: patios facing the river with umbrellas and plastic chairs. Often the rocky river bank is the patio. At times when we stop, enterprising youngsters appear out of nowhere, ready to sell us souvenirs. We park at Ourika village, today very much catering to the holiday crowd; horse and camel rides are available.

Mohamed and I drink coffee while the others shop along the village street. It's a market atmosphere, congenial crowds.

Courtesy Heather Daveno

Just as darkness falls we are back in Marrakesh. We split up for dinner, spreading out from the main square, Jemaa el Fna. I only mention this — quite unconnected with the mountain villages — because the vin gris on the dinner menu amuses me. Well, it's not actually grey. It's much like a dry rosé, a good accompaniment for many dishes. Vin gris is unique to Morocco and a perfect companion for ending a very fine day.

© 2018 Brenda Dougall Merriman

Marrakesh, Morocco 2017

Redux. Again, finding myself here, twelve years later. Some things were familiar!

The name Marrakesh has long conjured the essence of exotic faraway cultures. Many hippies of yore found a congenial stay here, some permanently. There is a considerable long-time ex-pat contingent among the population. While still the same city at its ancient core, certain elements have learned to cater to tourism ... to be expected. I have to say: unlike the lesser-known and relatively unspoiled city of Chefchaouen (an earlier post). 

The drive into Marrakesh from the southwest was a hellish traffic maze. It's the third largest city in the country with 900,000 population. First we had to find the right parking place in the medina, cruising streets so narrow I was sure our vehicle would get stuck between buildings. From there we walked to the riad, missing it on the first try; the GPS on Doug's phone did not work perfectly in the medina confines.

An elegant, pampering riad for two nights! Each riad we stayed in seemed to prove more special than the last one. Tucked away in the back streets of the medina, Riad Adriana was a serene rose-scented oasis. Literally. Fresh rose petals scattered in bed and bath greeted us.

We were completely entranced with our lodgings and its exquisite appointments — the interior design; the obligatory fountain and a mountain of oranges piled nearby; the textiles, mosaics, lanterns, chandeliers; the gleaming brass sink and fixtures in the bathroom; lovely munchies awaiting. I was appointed to the "Bordeaux" ensuite on the main floor; all rooms entered from the courtyard or inner balconies.

But Doug was consulting with local guide Wafi and we hurried away since it was mid-afternoon. Our route to and from the riad only became familiar by the end of our stay. It consisted of navigating a few residential streets, then into the meat and produce section of the medina that eventually took us out to a parking area by the city wall. "Turn left at the barber shop," Doug reminded us if we should get lost. As if we would find the barber shop! Wafi had a heavy accent and as far as I could hear, had little to say; he was not a personable guy.

 

We drove, not far, to Majorelle Gardens, recently owned by Yves St Laurent who is venerated there; gay visitors (and others) pay homage at his memorial. Labourers were re-paving the entire street with bits of brick. We were lucky to bypass the queue stretching all the way along the block. Lovely place of tropical/desert plants, but crowded with tourists. A small museum showcases historical Berber dress and jewellery (collected by the original Majorelle owner, not YSL). Every piece was chosen with meticulous good taste, but alas no photography allowed inside. An elegant gift shop provides expensive souvenirs if you are so inclined.

Dropped off at Koutoubia mosque, we crossed the busy street to enter Jemaa el-Fnaa, the famous main square of the medina. But we had other purposes before joining the wide-open throng. We strode endless streets of souks following Wafi as he pointed out brass hammering, furniture making (a bridal chair!), weaving, wool dyeing; we saw the interior of an ancient fireplace bakery, a historic madrasa. and he steered us to selected merchants (always part of a tour guide's agenda). Wafi also ushered us into an argan emporium where we buy nothing. We nix the carpet seller. He was getting disappointed we were not buying from his selected souks. It was definitely a good tour but charmless Wafi displayed a certain air of bored superiority - for us or his job, we weren't sure.

Purchasing became a do-it-yourself project even though Wafi was supposedly there to assist. He sneered at the exorbitant price Catherine paid for a couple of scarves even though he silently observed the process. He disappeared when he saw me eyeing a colourful Berber dress. I persisted in a deal mutually satisfactory to buyer and seller. He, Wafi, then reappeared to steer us to an expensive dress salon of quality clothing. Nope, no interest from us. In his eyes we were irredeemable. Wafi apparently believes the myth that all tourists are exceedingly wealthy and have terrible taste. We saw the last of him not a bit too soon, all agreeing he had the personality of a cornered cobra.

We headed into Jema el-Fnaa for dinner, crossing part of the square. It was still daylight. I'd forgotten how much it caters to tourists — all the snake charmers, trained monkeys, trick performers, and so on. Surprising how many sad people were begging with signs claiming "Syrian refugees" ... Morocco has not been a known host to them. The famous water-sellers were absent at the time. Down a side street we went to Restaurant Riad Omar, climbing to the fourth floor dining terrace. Great view of the street and its bedlam below with the square in the distance, as twilight came. Best harira soup ever! Pastilla again, so big it has to be shared. Weariness sets in.

Thanks to Mark Charteris

The others stayed to stroll the square while Mohamed took me home. Crossing the suicide-traffic street to Koutoubia again, he took my hand protectively. A Casablancan, he told me he doesn't care for Marrakesh. I can understand why. The square is the iconic heart of the city, full of life night and day where you can seek out little gems of authentic interaction; but it is also like a hustler's paradise teetering on the verge of frenzy. After the short drive we got a teeny bit lost in the medina between the barber shop and the riad but someone helped us. We were grateful in many ways to have Mohamed with us. Doug calls him my brother. Since I'd dubbed Doug my son, now Mohamed is my other son.

We returned to Jemaa el-Fnaa next evening after a gorgeous day in the mountain villages. Three of us found a restaurant outside the medina where we could enjoy some wine. Grey (gris) wine on the menu amused me but it's pink, not grey ‒ mindful of a rosé. I learn later it's a product exclusive to the well-regarded Moroccan wine industry. An unexpected floor show added an aspect of social culture, although (dance critic) the belly dancer was too slim and dispirited to be truly authentic. The woman dancing with candles on her head was inexplicable: you had to be there.

Marrakesh, a city of contradictions, mixing tradition with tourism to the nth degree. It's busy and can be fun, exciting, but watch your wallet. In view of so many new places we'd seen outside the general tourism box, I have to agree with my other son.

© 2017 Brenda Dougall Merriman

Riads, Kasbahs, Lodgings: Morocco

Riad = originally a town house with rooms around a courtyard with a garden and fountain, of at least three storeys; without a garden and fountain it is a Dar, but the name riad is now generally applied to both. Some of these old structures in urban medinas (old towns) have been renovated to serve as guesthouses. Most riads have less than a dozen rooms to rent.

Kasbah = originally a fortified building that housed a ruling family or several families, so sizes vary. It is surrounded by high walls and has at least one impressive entrance gate. In these places, many have very old locks and keys to ornate bedroom doors.

I have had to borrow from my companion Heather Daveno (HD below) because her great interest in architectural detail, crafts, and textiles make her photographs beautifully precise. For further illumination, please visit her August Phoenix Hats albums: https://www.facebook.com/pg/AugustPhoenix2/photos/?tab=albums.

Dar el-Kebira in Rabat

Our first taste of living (sleeping) in Moorish architecture and Moroccan decor ― encouraging a princess feeling. El-Kebira is located deep in the very narrow, twisting alleys of the Rabat medina. To transport luggage from a car park way outside the medina, a Dar employee met us and used a hand-pulled cart (we were a small group). The entrance door gives no hint to the beauties inside (and this is true of most guesthouse doors in a medina). We were enthralled with the ambiance and furnishings, high ceilings and exotic textiles. Typically, all bedrooms open onto the central courtyard, now the reception area, with walkways around the upper floors. Breakfast was served on the rooftop patio to start the day perfectly.

Courtesy HD

Al Khalifa in Chefchaouen

Al Khalifa is actually a small modern hotel but its location on a mountainside steps away from entering the fascinating medina makes it special. It is adjacent to a little river that rolls and plunges toward the Atlantic, a river where women still find pools to do their laundry. Never mind I had to trudge to my room on the third floor (elevators are rare in small multiple-storey lodgings). Princess time in a king size bed and a bathroom with a lovely sink and fixtures of ornate design. The sliding pocket door into my bathroom was gorgeous.

Mohayut in Merzouga

This hotel on the edge of the Sahara is a recent build in a one-storey variation of traditional style, something akin to a kasbah. A swimming pool is the centrepiece of a large courtyard where guest rooms are accessed. Another courtyard serves as the outdoor dining area, a smaller one beside the dining room. Perhaps there are more; our stay was regrettably brief. A guardian camel helps circulate the pool water. From the rooftop you can see the desert in all directions; I watched a camel safari returning from a desert ride. The entire place exudes peace and privacy, a favourite with everyone.

Courtesy HD

Note the Berber symbols

Breakfast at Mohayut

Tomboctou in Tinghir

Tinghir is a town in the heart of the beautiful Todra Valley. Tomboctou is billed as a hotel but was built as a family kasbah in 1944, of traditional mud-and-straw brick construction. Converted now to a 16-room guest house, it's located in the central part of town (but not in the medina). Here a swimming pool dominates a courtyard adjacent to reception and dining area ― obviously new additions. On the left is the original kasbah, three tall storeys for guest rooms; here, the central courtyard (not open to the sky) displays a number of antique African carvings and art works. By the dining room, models of kasbahs have been set up. It has a roof terrace "to watch the stars" but we were very busy elsewhere that evening.

Entrance to the original kasbah; from the hotel website

Looking into the interior courtyard; courtesy HD

Some of the African exhibits

Tomboctou restaurant; courtesy HD

Kasbah Ait ben Moro in Skoura

A true kasbah dating back to the 18th century with the high fortified walls, originally home to several families who are still represented on staff. It has been fully restored for guests and is a pleasure to explore. You can see the height of its several storeys. Myriad passages and stairways open onto small courtyards, with lovely gardens and/or countryside views. Flanked at the entrance by a pottery business and a women's weaving co-op, Ait Ben Moro is one of the most popular kasbah destinations for tourists.

Photo from Ait Ben Moro website

  

Riad Dar Dzahra in Taroudant

Part of this riad is three hundred years old so again the sense of history is around you. Bedrooms are lavishly adorned with the expected Moroccan furniture and finishing touches; the bathrooms feature modern decorative sinks and hardware. The dining area, indoors and out, includes a house cat. A garden wall surrounds three sides of the pool with a variety of horticultural samples. Parking is available at the back and the medina beckons at the front doorstep with all its fascinating souks.

Riad Adriana in Marrakech

Perhaps the most memorable of all, this exquisite riad endowed the most "royal" feeling of all. Not the easiest place to find in the warren of the medina's little streets, but so well placed around the corner (or two) from the souks of the busy bazaar. Elegant rooms, mosaic floors, Berber carpets and blankets, carved pillars, copper bathroom fixtures, and scattered rose petals to welcome you. The open air courtyard with its fountain is a peaceful place to sit, as is the roof terrace where breakfast was served. Mint tea is customarily served in any riad or kasbah to greet new arrivals.

© 2017 Brenda Dougall Merriman