Our Moroccan adventure started off with a pic-nic on the ferry ride from
Algeciras (say that quickly three times with the proper Spanish lisp) to
Tangier. The traditional European menu that we enjoyed from the roof of the
ferry was salmon pate, crusty bread, nutella, and Seville oranges, all while
taking in the views of the rock of Gibraltar, and enjoying the gusty sea breezes
blowing across the boat.
The romance of the ferry ride quickly ended as we got off the boat in Tangier
and were descended upon by all of the local touts wanting to either find us a
hotel or carpet shop, or guide us through the incredibly dangerous and complex
medina. Thanks to the good work of the Lonely Planet guide, we were able to
shrug off the hustlers and head straight for our chosen hotel. After dropping
our bags, we wandered through the streets of Tangier, absorbing the impact of
filth in the alleyways, the children playing soccer in the streets, and the
smells of deep fried food as the families prepared dinner. For a break from the
hustle and bustle of the streets, we searched out a coffee shop (Salon de The)
to take a breather and absorb the impact of being in Morocco. While most coffee
shops seemed to be male-only bastions, our choice was a more European looking
cafe where Zen enjoyed a great cafe au lait, and I had my first Moroccan mint
tea. Moroccan mint tea is a delicious concotion made with green tea, fresh mint,
and a lot of sugar. It is known locally as Moroccan whisky.
The train ride from Tangier to Fes was filled with great views of rural northern
Morocco and a host of interesting characters. We talked to an ex-pat from Oregon
who has been living in the Arab world for 30 years, I spoke bad French to a
couple of law students from Rabat, and then we met the most interesting
character of all - a furniture maker from Fes. Samir had spent 7 years living in
Nice, learned English from a private American school, and was a very
enterprising 27 year old as the owner of a successful furniture factory. He
mentioned he had some time off due to a festival that was going on, so he
volunteered to show us a bit of Fes.
That evening, he took us to his place for a traditional Moroccan dinner and to
meet his friend who currently resides in Toronto, Canada. His house was simple,
but adequate, containing a pretty courtyard, numerous songbirds, and a long and
thin living room complete with a couch that wrapped around the entire room.
While waiting for dinner, Samir showed us a picture of him as a young lad in the
movie Ishtar, surrounded by Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty. He was 14 at the
time, and you could see a slight resemblance. Samir had never seen the movie, as
he was unable to get of a copy of the video. If that 15 minutes of fame was not
enough, a recent knee injury was all that kept him from becoming the karate
champion of Morocco.
The dinner included freshly cooked bread, a Moroccan salad (tomatoes, onion,
cucumbers, lemon juice, and some marinated lemon rind), and a tajine au poulet
complete with french fries, all eaten in traditional style without using
utensils. The chicken was delicious, and the gravy was great for dipping the
bread into.
After some discussions on the Koran and Moroccan society, we taxied home in
readiness for our planned excursion the next day. Samir organized a guide into
the medina (old medieval city) for us, and we were picked up at our hotel the
next morning. The guide was very professional, and showed up in traditional
Berber clothing, including an orange robe and bright yellow slippers. The price
for the guide was a little high, but we accepted because the guide did seem much
better than all of the so-called guides roaming the streets.
Once we were hooked up with an official guide, the hustlers left us completely
alone. Our guide suggested that we rent a taxi to see some of the more remote
sights, and we agreed that this was a good idea. However, mistake #1 was to get
into the taxi without negotiating a price first. We naively assumed the guide
would ensure a reasonable price for us, but were soon to learn that you need to
question everything.
The first stop on the tour was an old fortress that overlooked Fes from the
East. The fortress itself was pretty run down and un-interesting, but the view
of Fes was magnificent. We commented on the large number of satellite dishes
that were visible, and then got a good laugh as our guide proclaimed that they
are known locally as cous-cous dishes.
We then headed to the main gate into the medina, and experienced a completely
different world from the French built new city that we were staying in. The new
city is very modern looking, complete with wide streets, women in western
clothes, and Mercedes driving down the streets. The old city, on the other hand,
looks almost as you would picture a 15th century medieval city (If you ignored
the cous-cous dishes). The twisty little narrow streets made it impossible for
motorized vehicles to enter, and we were informed that pretty much everything
inside is done by hand. From what I could tell, much of the sewing was done
without even the aid of a sewing machine. Passing by one of the 350 mosques
contained within the medina, the guide informed us that each mosque is a self
contained neighbourhood, and always includes a nearby fountain (for drinking
water), a bakery, a Turkish bath-house, and a school.
As we wandered down the uneven cobblestone streets, Zen almost tripped over one
of the bricks. As she did, a little five year old yelled out in perfect French
"Attention Madame"! It was a really interesting image to be taking in
the sights and smells of a Moroccan medina, hear the air-raid like call to
prayer of the muslim faithful, almost get run over as mule driven carts passed
by, and then to hear a young child call out in perfect French.
As I noticed one of the mules doing its business in the middle of the road, I
commented to the guide that in spite of everything going on, the streets seemed
surprisingly clean. We were informed that this is because of 3 daily cleanings
of each medina street.
The cleanliness of the streets was in contrast of what we were to experience
next. The guide bought us each a sprig of mint to help us through the powerful
olfactory experience of wandering through the tannery area of the medina. We got
to see the skins being cured, brushed, and died. The rooftop of the tannery let
us see the whole process in one sweep, and see how the process has remained
unchanged for many centuries.
From the tanneries, we headed off for lunch within the medina. Mistake #2 was to
not inform the guide to take us to an inexpensive restaurant. While the food was
okay, it was definitely overpriced and a little on the bland side. What happened
behind the scenes (I'm sure) is that the guide was given a free meal for
bringing us in. It would have been far more interesting to be have been taken to
a local eating hole, even if we paid for the guide's food. Oh well - I did take
away one useful lesson from the meal. Cinnamon sprinkled on freshly cut oranges
is delicious!
From the working and living section of the medina, it was off to the souqs
(markets) where Zen had wanted to buy henna as a gift for a friend. Henna is a
pigment used for staining, including creating temporary tattoos. The cosmetic
spiel that we were given was reminiscent of the one given from a Macy's counter
(not that I would know). We learned all about traditional Moroccan beauty
products. which included a bar of concentrated jasmine (rubbed on as a perfume),
a small bowl with red dye used as lipstick, khol highlighter for the eyes, and
various skin and hair care products including conditioners, cleaners, and dyes.
The variety of products available was pretty amazing, considering that
historically the women were not allowed to show their face or hair.
From there, it was off to the overpriced (but convenient) government run carpet
shop for the women's co-op. We were shown young women making the carpets, as
they weaved in a trance like state with the fingers moving so fast they could
hardly be seen. We were then sat down, served some mint tea, and the sales pitch
began. The salesman was very smooth, and in between his flattery and jokes, he
had the workers roll out carpets to see what we liked. We were taught the arabic
words for "No, take it away", or "Yes, I like that one". The
basic carpets were fixed price, but Zen and I asked to look at some of the
prettier older carpets. They were made with saffron ink, and contained
interesting tribal patterns, as opposed to the geometric designs of muslim
influenced carpets. We saw several that we liked, but they were way out of our
price range, and beyond our bargaining skills. We decided to leave the shop, and
think about it later.
Our shopping within the Medina done, we then headed outside to visit the
ceramics factory. We were shown pottery being thrown, fired, and glazed. The
most interesting part was the thrower who very quickly and adeptly was able to
mold the clay into bowls, dishes, and even a candlestick holder. We were shown
through the whole process by a dark yet blue eyed Jewish tour guide. After the
tour came the inevitable hard sell. We were shown a lot of different styles of
ceramics, none of which were very impressive. About the only thing you could say
for them is that their flaws showed they were hand made. As opposed to the
beautiful and unique painting-like carpets, the ceramics appeared more like the
wares produced from a human assembly line. Given the magnificent examples of
tile works we had seen in the monuments and palaces, the visit was a little
disappointing.
The tour finished with a trip to the sister fortress of the one we visited in
the morning. Located on the west side of the city, it afforded a great view of
Fes under the setting sun.
The next day we were taken on a tour of the Middle Atlas mountains by Samir.
This was mistake #3. We were told the price of the tour up front, and it had
seemed a little high. However, Samir's forceful presence got the day underway
without us negotiating the price down. The day included a visit to a rural town
where people's houses contained caves to retreat for coolness, an alpine lake,
and the highlight of the day which was a peaceful coniferous alpine forest,
complete with wild monkeys.
With the expected mechanical failure stop, we were able to take some pictures of
Berber nomads living in the mountains. Their black tents were very noticeable,
as was the black plastic used to cover their supplies. We asked if they used
donkeys to move their camp, to which Samir laughed and said "No, they rent
trucks". So much for the romantic notion of Berber life. It wasn't until we
saw Saharan nomads that we were able to see a more traditional lifestyle. Some
of the activities we witnessed included the women going to the well to get
water, young boys rounding up livestock on motorcycles, and the older men
setting up their stands of fossils to sell to the tourists.
After the mechanical failure was repaired with a good guzzle of water, we were
back on our way to Fes. Samir's habits and mannerisms had begun to draw
questions in our mind. After checking the price with us, Samir confirmed our
suspicions by pulling out a little red book and jotting something down in it. We
had played our roles as gullible tourists.
That night, we did a post-mortem and wrote it off as a learning experience. We
had our fun, and continue to entertain ourselves by speculating about Samir and
his game.
Added to this experience was Zen's bout with giardia which we think she may have
picked up from a public drinking fountain in France. Luckily we were in Morocco
(and the FDA isn't), so we could cheaply and conveniently pick up some
prescription strength drugs over the counter from a nearby pharmacy.
The drugs enabled us to courageously undertake an 8 hour bus ride down into the
Sahara. While this may sound rather grueling, it is one of my best memories of
Morocco. The bus went through gorgeous countryside, including high mountains,
small towns, and an incredible Saharan river gorge complete with brick villages,
sharp red-rock cliffs, and fields of palm trees, vegetables and wheat.
However, even more memorable than the scenery was the array of people seen on
the bus. Each stop was organized chaos as people would pour on and off the bus,
and the conductor would single out each newcomer and extract the proper fare
from them (often after heated negotiations). Most of the women were tatooed on
the forehead, chins, and hands with unique markings that indicated which of the
350 or so Berber tribes they were from. Their hands and feet were also
frequently died with henna. Most amazing was watching toothless old men with
their wisps of facial hair, dirty brown robes, twisted turbans, and gnarled
wooden canes as they would get off the bus in the middle of nowhere with nothing
but rocks and dirt in sight. It really made one wonder how they knew where to
get off, and where they might be headed to.
The people of Morocco are really a varied bunch, with a mix of dark skinned
Saharans, lighter skinned Arabs, and a wide range of colourings of the Berber
tribes including those with fair skin and blue eyes. Our Fes guide even told us
that some of the Berbers show similarities to Russian people including looks and
customs. The living style of Moroccans includes a mixture of traditional and
new, and it is really interesting watching men in their robes and turbans greet
each other in the middle of the street by kissing each other on the cheek three
times. While the women are mostly covered up, they attempt to dress themselves
up at the same time. We saw one woman with a silver sequin dress poking out from
under her covering of black cloth. Discretely, she was showing off her wealth to
anyone that was watching.
The highlight of the Saharan region was a 4am 4-wheel drive trip to see the sun
rise over a large dune. However, the trip did not come easy. Renting the vehicle
is expensive, and we were unable to find any other tourists crazy enough to get
up at that hour to share the costs. So, we put our feelers out for trip prices,
and let the negotiations begin. Zen took control of the situation, and showed
what she learned while living in Indonesia. We sat in the lobby of our hotel,
and let everyone come to us. Zen kept all of the negotiations very light by
stating the absurd, laughing, and telling jokes. She negotiated a hard line, and
every time someone would leave because our price was too low, they would return
minutes later as we patiently waited. Finally, we negotiated down to the price
that we wanted.
After a rough and bumpy ride (with the worst part being the side streets of the
town we were in), we made it to the dunes just before sunrise. The dunes were
huge, and incredibly beautiful. One source told us that they were where the
English Patient was filmed. It was great fun hiking up the mounds of sand (two
steps forward and one step back), and then sitting and watching as the colours
of the dunes came to life, and as the footsteps made only moments before were
swallowed into the sand. Judging by the beat up skis we saw near a tourist
lodge, it is even possible to ski the Sahara.
When we got back to the vehicle, the driver (who only spoke Arabic) pointed to a
damaged tire. While the next stop was supposed to be an intermittent lake with
pink flamingoes, none of us wanted to get stranded. However, it was negotiation
time again as we weren't about to pay full price for the reduced trip. The
negotiations proved difficult as we didn't have a translator around this time.
The driver flagged down a group of older boys that were cycling by, and one of
them looked at me and asked (in German) if I spoke German. When I responded that
I spoke English or French, another kid came to the window and we sorted out the
situation in French. It was a little eerie to see the kids come out of nowhere,
with no civilization in sight.
Part of the journey out of the Sahara required renting a grand taxi (an old
Mercedes sedan used like a bus to transport 6 very cramped passangers at a
time). While we waited for our taxi to fill up, we noticed another being loaded
with its cargo which included a tied up goat being put into the trunk. With the
childhood images of Mercedes being driven by successful businessmen on their
Sunday drives through the countryside, it was quite a contrast seeing one used
to transport goats.
Our taxi eventually filled up, and we were on our way. We had a great time
talking to one of the passengers who we found out was an English teacher. He was
able to pass on a lot of insights about what life was like in a rural Moroccan
town.
The bus ride to Marrakech was even more grueling than the previous (11 hours),
and it was much hotter. However, the views of the snow covered High Atlas
Mountains were superb. On arrival in Marrakech, we rewarded ourselves by going
to a two star hotel with clean rooms and our own shower and toilet. To make up
for that splurge, we dined in Marrakech's market area, known as the "Place
Djemaa el-Fna", and filled up on delicious bread, soup, and fresh squeezed
orange juice for 55 cents each. In addition to the many food and orange juice
stands, the market was filled with dancers, musicians, storytellers, singers in
drag, snake charmers, and other entertainers, along with the usual assortment of
beggars and thieves. The majority of people in the market were Moroccans, and it
was quite refreshing that no one in the market tried to charge us gringo prices.
The medina in Marrakesh does not have the same ambiance as the one in Fes, as
the streets are a lot more open, there is less action going on, and it is
actually not too difficult to find your way around without a guide. However, the
going did get a little tough when we got caught in a "donkey jam".
Donkeys from all directions converged on one intersection, and we soon learned
that it is not so easy to get a donkey with cart to back up. We sat for a while
entertaining ourselves while the donkey owners (and a neighbourhood woman that
felt she needed to be part of the action) shouted obscene things at each other
in Arabic, and tried to untangle the mess.
Last night we learned why there are so few pigeons in Morocco as compared to
Europe, when we sampled a local delicacy - "Pastilla au Pigeon"
(pigeon pie). It consisted of pigeon (bones and all) and chopped almonds in a
phylo dough pastry and topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon.
The adventure in Morocco ended with an overnight train ride from Marrakesh to
Tangier where some dolphins bid us farewell on the early morning ferry ride to
Spain. Goodbye to the land of mint tea, medinas, and mosques, and back to the
lazy life of Spain with its much fantasized after gourmet coffee.
