Extremes of life and landscapes in Morocco.

Our journey in Morocco began in Tangier where we disembarked from our 25 hour ferry trip from Barcelona. The hour long process to pass customs and passport control was an exercise in patience as our paperwork got lost somewhere between one policeman and the next customs officer. In the end, nothing at all happened as we sat in the car for one very hot hour contemplating how under-prepared we were for this part of our journey and then all of a sudden we were allowed to pass and Paul’s blood pressure came back down.

We drove high over the mountains into the clouds where we could have had an incredible view north to Spain with the Atlantic to the west and the Mediterranean to the east if not for the pea-soup fog that blacked out the light and heat.

Quite by accident we found ourselves in the Spanish seaside town of Sebta. It was the long way to Tetouan but we were finding our way in a new world without a Sat Nav. Tetouan saw us driving through a massive sheep market with shepherds and traders handing over jumbuks for dirhams.

The light was fading as we continued driving south through arid tundra and pot-holed roads winding around the country. Darkness had long fallen when we drove into Chefchaouen and somehow found our way to Riad Baraka and a clean and colourful place to stay with our host Ann for 4 nights.

From Chefchaouen it was a wet days drive to Fez. Coming into Fez we were followed for more than an hour by a man on a motorbike even reappearing after we stopped to go shopping at Marjane. It was late, wet and we were hopelessly lost when he called out to us on our second lap around a large roundabout to ask if we needed help. Of course we did, so what else could we do but follow him and hope. We seemed to go on a very long route around Fez until he stopped at a carpark and tried to tout us for his services as a guide and stay at 'his' riad. Paul put on his policeman’s hat and we made our escape to call Anthony, the owner of the riad we had already arranged. He came to meet us and walk us through the medina in the rain with all our suitcases in tow to the sanctuary of Riad del Waha. Anthony had moved here 4 years ago from Melbourne and now, one wife, a two year old daughter and 3 riad renovations later he is one of the locals and was a tremendous help and wonderful friend to us for our week long stay in Fez.

Fez is the largest car-free urban area in the world with over 9000 streets and alleyways only accessible by foot, it was thanks to Anthony’s instructions and a bit of good luck that we never got too lost during our stay in the Fez medina. It probably did help that the first three days were rainy and we didn’t venture far and then the next 4 sunny days were Eid Al Adha and the streets were somewhat empty.

Thinking we had survived without getting lost we left Fez for the hour long drive to Ifrane. Well, long over an hour later we were still driving in circles around the outskirts of Fez trying to find our way out. The problem was that what signs did exist were written in Arabic and the people we stopped to ask only spoke Arabic, French or Spanish. So in frustration, Charlotte pulled out her French dictionary and quickly learnt how to say left, right, roundabout and straight ahead. The next stop was a friendly policeman who put us back on track.

Ifrane was beautiful, however, we had no time to stop as we needed to meet our guide in Azrou.  

Brahim was to become our guide and friend over the next 10 days, taking us to the real Morocco and sharing with us his generosity and kindness to everyone he meets. Whether it was an old lady by the side of the road who needed a lift to get to the bus stop, a sister with a toothache or a hungry stranger, Brahim showed us so often that everyone needs help at different times in their lives and while we are healthy and able - it is our time to give. The girls really got into the spirit and we shared, pencils, clothes, lollies, medicine, food and our time to help those in need. It was very rewarding and hopefully our eyes and hearts can remain open.

We drove towards the mountains and to our utter disbelief we found ourselves in knee deep snow and wide open blue skies. Brahim told us that three nights earlier, the snow fell and 200 cars were trapped overnight in the freezing hills. Another lucky choice of days for us.

 

We spent 2 days traveling through the snowy Atlas Mountains. Stopping late one afternoon at a crater lake to view an incredible sunset we turned away from the sinking sun to be stunned by a full moon rising behind us through the valley. It took my breath away. Sensational !!

Sun setting over the Atlas Mountains and then within minutes

 we had the full moon rising on the other side of the lake.

Driving into Middelt at night we passed the King’s entourage of about 800 official vehicles driving from his visit to Erfoud back to Marrakech. It was an unbelievable procession of all sorts of vehicles that went into the night and still the next day, more and more of the King’s cars were driving past.

Middelt itself is a thriving town surrounded by snow covered mountains. Newly surfaced roads and an abundance of crisp new Moroccan flags lined the streets into Erfoud for our (or maybe the King’s) visit.

From the snow covered mountains we drove another half day off road from Merzouga to reach the edge of the Sahara desert. The flat, dark plains gave way to red sandy dunes however it was night time yet again when we reached our final destination for the day.

In darkness, we packed our backpacks for 2 days in the desert and boarded our ships of the desert to take us 6 bumpy kilometres over the dunes to our campsite. If not for the full moon lighting the sandy path I don’t know how we would have found our way.

Bed for us that night was a mat on the sand under a multi-coloured tent made of Berber rugs. The blankets were many and heavy, but so warm. I fell deaf to the moans of “There’s sand in my bed” and fell asleep to the sound of desert drums and the distant murmur of voices from the campfire.

The one and only night of my stay in Morocco that I wasn’t woken by the 4.30am call to prayer (as there are no minarets in the desert), Paul woke me and convinced me to leave the warm comfort of my Bedouin slumber to climb the monstrous sand dune behind our camp to view a sunrise over the Sahara. How could I say no. So half asleep and very cold we trudged up and up. It was like climbing Ayers Rock covered in quicksand. Every step sunk ankle deep into the sand and slid half a step back down slope. It seemed impossible to make any ground and nothing was going to stop the sun from appearing. Our burning lungs could hardly draw in another chilly breathe and our legs were trembling jelly when we collapsed and turned to see an amazing sunrise. The light gave colour to the sand and showed us the unending salmon pink dunes that were hidden in the darkness when we arrived the night before. We sat on our dune and watched the camp wake up and the desert come to life. It was extraordinary.

One lunch stop in this first week with Brahim captured the moment for me.  We stopped by the side of the road at an eating house of sorts. The girls joined a young boy kicking a soccer ball against a crumbling wall. A giant JCB with back hoe and bucket pulled up in front of us while three men tried to fill the petrol tank of their Renault from a plastic bucket. The diesel spilled down the road as onlookers stopped to look and light up cigarettes as they offered advice. We ate a chicken tagine with our hands and fed the town cats living under our table the leftover pieces of offal. A man in muddy jellaba with no teeth came up to our table and told Brahim he was hungry, so we made him up a plate and he was very grateful.

A camera cannot record the experience of life in an ancient place. It is only through living the moment and etching it in our memories that we can remember some things.

NomadicLee