MAGICAL MOROCCO, LAND OF SLIPPERS AND BATHROBES

Wow, so can I start off with two things...I hate French keyboards and, I absolutely LOVE Morocco. Not to slight India or anything but Morocco is so much more a place for me and I just can't say enough about how much I have been enjoying it. I think that from the first moment I got off the plane, despite the complete chaos, I knew it was a place for me. Getting off of the plane I was hit with a warm blast of air and faced with the cleanest airport I have ever seen. The building was sparkling and decked out in beautiful tiles. It was a bit of a pain getting out as no one was directing people traffic and about three planes landed at the same time. We pretty much all filed into a big room and stood in what I can only call piles of people clustered about in front of what looked like customs counters. I really chose the wrong line and was pretty much the last person on my plane out of the customs area. Odd thing was, they did not ask me a single question at the counter, just looked at my passport, stamped it and let me go on my merry little way so I am really not sure what the hold up was.

After collecting my poor little lonely bag off the conveyor belt, I braved the ATM (big queue) then headed out to find the bus. This was a bit more confusing as apparently the taxis were on strike but no one was there to tell us that so the front of the airport was a bunch of people wandering around with their luggage, books and maps out, looking lost and asking each other how to get into town. No one really knew and the airport seemed to lack airport personnel so we pretty much just piled onto this one bus as it came through and hoped for the best. It was very bizarre and I felt a bit like I was in a strange dream land especially when I looked up and saw massive snow covered mountains looming above me that looked an awful lot like the Himalayas from a distance but with the desert surrounding it. It truly looked like a movie backdrop.

So, once on the bus, I headed into the Medina area in hopes of actually getting accomodation (i hadn't booked anything). On the plane a number of people had said how hard it had been for them to find accomodation so I was a bit worried that I would not be able to get a bed. I succeeded after a very circular conversation, which I am very used to at this point and getting quite adept at. It went something like this...

"Do you have a room?"

"How many persons?"

"Just one."

"No, we only have a room for two people."

"OK, how much is that?"

"120D."

"OK, that is fine." (at this point I just wanted to make sure I had a place to rest my head)

"But you are just one, we don't have a room for one."

"Yes, but that is OK, I will pay for two."

Then another guy showed up and said, "What do you need?" I replied, "A room." "How many persons?" Again, "Just one." Answer: "We don't have a room." So on it went until finally the first guy who said that he had the double said that it would be OK for me to have the double for the night. They really don't get the concept of paying customer right in front of you with cash in hand.

After I settled in and realized that there was no shower to be found (for my cheap rate, the bathroom was outside) and a toilet getting close to rivaling those of India. Oh well, not too bad and hell, I was in Morocco and had a bunch of things to go explore. This place really overwhelms the senses much like India but for me in a much more interesting way (again, not trying to slight India, just personal preference). In the main square area (Medina area) there are snake charmers, drummers, henna ladies, water pourers dressed up in costumes with colored tassles and loads of stands selling dried fruits and nuts or fresh squeezed orange juice (right into the glass). In the evening the place lights up with food stands galore serving everythign from escargo to hearty bean soup. The stands glimmer with all of their lights and smoke pours out of the grills as the clarinet type things from the snake charmers sound in the background meshing with drums and the clickity clack (sounds like a horse) of the metal merenges (like castanets - spelling is off on both of those...sorry!). It is a feast for the eyes and I just wanted to eat up everything in sight. I was good though and settled in to a nice tajine (see picture above for what that is) of chicken, lemon and olives in a location right on the side of the main square where I could watch the world go by. As it was a social little restaurant I ended up having a great conversation with a couple living in London but originally from New York. They were just taking a quick trip here for the Easter break.

My hotel turned out to be quite the chaotic little place with the refurbishing of the courtyard (late into the night and early in the morning) and the car park that my room butted up to. That said, the next day, I opted to move to a different place and take on the dorm room. Also a good place to meet fellow travellers and swap stories. I got quite lucky as I immediately met Jess and Abs, two American girls here for about 10 days. They were also needed to head to the bus station for tickets so I tagged along with them. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for me, the bus they wanted to take into the mountains was on strike or somethink like that, so they decided to also head to Essaouira, a beach town. We got tickets to head out for the next day, then parted ways for the afternoon as I was quite keen to sort out my ticket to Tunisia and also to hit a Hammam (turkish bath).

It was at this point that I got lost in the souk amongst the bathrobes and slippers (market area of twisty, narrow roads and loads and loads of shops glittering with all their wares). I should probably explain the bathrobes and slippers thing a bit more. Traditional dress here is the Jellaba (long robe that looks like a bathrobe with a pointy hood) and the babooshes (sp) (leather pointy slippers). Basically the image is of a Jedai Knight from Star Wars wearing his house slippers - often in yellow for some reason that I cannot explain. The women also wear them but they tend to be in colors (often pink for some reason) while the mens seem to be in more modest browns, beiges and cream. I must say that they do look awfully comfy and I often feel a bit overdressed in my khakis and T-shirt. Maybe I should take up wearing one of these robes...hmmm...not a bad idea...well, If I do get one, it'll probably never make it out of the house as I cannot imagine running out to the grocery store with my pointy hooded, tassled robe. Of course, if I do get one, it will have to be in some fun color so that would make it even more of a sight. Could always save it for Halloween and go as Princess Leah but that would mean I would have to get a conservative white one.

In any case, lost in the souk and feeling a bit under-dressed, I decided to do a little poking around in the shops. In retrospect, I am not sure this was such a good thing. The shopkeepers here are much worse here than in any other country I have visited. Not only do they pester you to visit their store but they grab your arm and basically drag you in. Then when you ask a price, which is always too high, and you say that it is too high, they start with the "How much you pay????? How much you pay???? If you then give them a price that is too low, they will, shake their head (usual) and sigh (also usual) and then counter. If you continue on this line, you just may get thrown out of the store - literally! I have met several people that were "escorted" out by their clothes and then yelled at as they tried to escape down the souk. If you refuse to give them a counter offer, they get equally pissy and chase you down with "What you want to pay?" and when you say, "Just looking." you get them yelling after you in nasty tones and spitting at you, "Just looking, I am just looking." then something in Arabic that I cannot understand. I think I escaped quite lightly only receiving the "Just looking" and spitting.

After all of this, I decided that it was time to head to the Hammam to relax and get clean (they scrub you and wash you as well as let you relax and enjoy the heat and steam of the baths). It was not quite what I had pictured, nor what I had experienced while in Turkey. This Hammam was much more traditional and very much so a local place. Negotiations at the desk were quite interesting as they didn't speak English and my French is fairly limited. We got by and came to the understanding that for 70D I got the loofah, was and massage. Having not been in side yet, I thought this was quite the deal if it was anything like the lovely place in Turkey. After paying, they gestured and explained that I should leave my bags and clothes with the little woman in the front of the Hammam.

First let me explain that I was standing in an entrance hallway (a big one) and at the end of the hall was a little wooden desk/divider and the woman was sitting on the floor behind that on a pile of blankets guarding various purses and bags. They explained, as much as they could, that I should remove my clothes and give them to the woman. Well, I was still standing in the hallway. Yes, apparently this was OK and I was to undress in the hallway then walk over and leave my stuff with the woman. Towel????? Could I have a towel please! That was pretty much what I was thinking. I realize that I have lost a lot of modesty after Africa and peeing on the side of the road in a line with six other girls while locals walked by but for some reason undressing in this hallway and then standing there in the buff while trying to figure out what to do next did not seem very comfortable. I managed to communicate that a towel would be good and they nodded and then told me to undress so I did. That resulted in me standing in the hallway naked and trying to duck a little bit behind a wall in the direction of the hammam. A local woman came in and, doing me the favor of helping me sort out the etiquet (sp) of the hamman actually managed to delay my entrance and have me standing there for another five minutes. Finally a towel came, as did the nice local woman and I was lead into the bath house and set amongst a bunch of other women unsure of what to do next.

Basically the drill here is that you sit and let your skin soften in the steam, a woman then comes and washes you with an olive soap, gell, blob, type thing and then she loofahs you and then you get a massage. Well the place in Turkey had a beautiful marble raised circle to relax on and the women sang and were gentle. Here it was quite different. Us poor women sat around a slightly dingy looking room on marble tiles (those who were lucky had mats) naked or half naked waiting for a boney cross eyed woman or a massive black african type woman to call us over for our scrubbing. First they handed me the soap thing and gestured that I should splash water over myself out of the bucket and wash myself, which I did. Then after a couple minutes, the massive woman called me over and had me lie down and then began to loofah me. I think I was actually punishing myself rather than rewarding myself and if there was any grime at all left from India (the bath water at my friends house turned grey when I took at bath on my stop over in London) it is all gone now. As she loofahed, I watched peels of grey/brown skin roll up into little balls and fall off onto the tiles. Is this sounding sanitary enough yet? In retrospect, I am thinking this sounds pretty darn disgusting. In any case, she loofahed me and I don't think there was any skin left when she was done. She then sent me over to the other lady to be washed with some scented soap and have a semi massage thing. Overall I am chalking it up to a very interesting experience and have noted that the next hammam I head to, will be a bit more up market and geared more toward the tourist looking for a steam bath/sauna and real massage. Think I will save this until after I get back from the desert. I itched for the rest of the evening however the next day my skin felt as smooth as a baby's bottom. It is still recovering though and in this dry weather my hands, elbows and knees are all falling apart and peeling. For a few days I was hoping that I hadn't picked up some nasty skin disease in the hammam but it seems to be subsiding so I think it'll be OK.

Next day it was off to Essaouira. We got nicely ripped off to begin with by paying 15D to the bag guy but he insisted and well, you never know if they will toss your bags off of the bus if you don't pay. We were a bit pissed off about it but decided that there was not much we could do and boarded the rickety old bus. The bus ride was well, not so comfy, but a step above the Indian buses as they did not pack people into the aisles. I almost got the bonus of the seat coming with me when I left as it wasn't bolted to the frame anymore. We had the usual hassle of everyone wanting to take us to their hotel when we exited at Essaouira but managed to shoo them off enough and make our way through the city walls and down the narrow passages. Our hotel was a bit off the main route so it took several stops and several "Can you tell us where..." and one reprimand before we found it. Note to self, say "Hello" and "How are you" before you ask for directions anywhere. We stopped in a nice wood shop to ask directions and before I knew it, I was being reprimanded for just asking directions and not passing some pleasantries first. I have since learned my lesson and always begin with the niceties before asking anything at all. This seems to work and the shop keepers are much friendlier.

We acquired a fantastic room on the very top of the hotel facing out onto the terrace with a straight shot of the ocean. The three of us immediately loved the place and were ready to stay the rest of our vacation there. Basically we had a good couple of days just wandering around the windy narrow streets and walking along the beach watching all of the windsurfers and kite surfers. The area is HUGE for windsurfing - Dar, you would love it! - and looked to be quite a kick. I debated staying for a few days and taking some lessons but there is so much to see here in Morocco, I am opting for doing something like that back home rather than in a country where I want to explore.

With much saddness we departed our rooftop abode to head to the mountains and Cascades D'Ouzoud. It was quite a long bus day to get there as we had to come back to Marrakesh then head out again to the mountains. Pretty much most of Easter Sunday was spent in transit. We stayed the night in a place called Azlil, not realizing that we could get great accomodation in Ouzoud right next to the water falls. When we reached the junction, a bunch of high schooly looking Brits got off the bus and the three of us wondered what we missed and why we weren't getting off there. We quickly grabbed our lonely planets and realized that alas, there was a little place right there that sounded quite nice. The bus had already headed off so we were stuck with our first choice and settled on Azlil for the night. It was pretty much a one horse town and as it was late when we got there, we wandered the streets trying to find a suitable place to eat. They were all packed with men and did not appear to be too welcoming of three females. Of course, a local boy decided he wanted to chat and joined us for the wander until we did settle on a place to eat. Bonus was that he was able to tell us which places were OK for us or not.

That night we met a Canadian couple also heading the same direction so we agreed to take a Grand Taxi to the falls the next day. At this juncture, I would like to note that there is nothing Grand about a Grand Taxi. Basically "grand" refers to the size of the car not the stature. A Petite Taxi is along the lines of a Volkswagon Rabbit while the Grand Taxi is an old beat of Mercedes four door. Clearly a car that seats six, despite the fact that only two seats grace the front of the vehicle. Don't mind the little padded lump in the middle by the stick shift that you just may get stuck sitting on. As we were five, we decided to rent the entire car to take us to our destination. It was definitely a good thing as the four in the back was a bit cozy and we all came out with various body parts aching.

Arrival was fantastic. The little town was adorable and sat perched above the falls. I guess you can't really say it was a town as it was a few hotels and restaurants and then a little strip of shops along a walkway down to the cascades. It is quite a climb down and all along the way restaurants and tea shops dot the hills. Quite pleasant. We scored again on the hotel and were ushered in to a three bed corner room, nice fresh sun dried sheets and a fresh breeze wafting through. They also wecomed us with a lovely cup of the mint tea, or Berber Whiskey, as the Berberse refer to it. It is quite sweet so after a couple of cups you feel a bit like your teeth are rotting out of your head. Not always pleasant but the stuff is delicious. If you ask for half sugar, then it is most enjoyable.

So, once settled in, we headed down to the falls and off on a six hour hike. It wasn't meant to be six hours but we got lost a couple of times and ended up climbing up out of the canyon and then back down to the river a few times. In the summer the place is packed with campers escaping the heat and swimming in the river. It was a lovely hike and at the end we were rewarded with the river spilling into another canyon. First though we had to sneak past the locals that had decided we needed to pay to cross the last sand bag bridge. We ignored then and Jess almost got her head taken off by a boy who was ready to throw a rock at us. Fortunately his little sister had more sense and stopped him. Day two was spent much the same way but Jess and Abs had met one of the shop keepers and he fed us a fantastic Tajine lunch (see pic above) and then took us out on a hike to the source of the river. We wandered through olive groves, stopped and ate fresh, not quite ready almonds and then hiked back through the farmers onion fields back to town where we enjoyed a cool evening outside with more Tanjines and Couscous dishes and the hotel boys playing the drums. It was a fantastic evening sitting around watching these guys play various drums and castanets. A few of them even managed to pull out their bright blue and orange turbans and get all wrapped up.

Day three was departure day for all of us...quite sad to see Abs and Jess head out as we were having a really great time lazing about, going on hikes and eating fantastic meals. The two of them were scheduled to leave a few hours before I was so I headed back to chat with Jalil, our favorite shop owner and also with the guys at the hotel. Well, turns out that I was convinced by all of them to stay one more night, which I am so glad that I did. I had another lovely lunch with Jalil (shop owner), spent much of the afternoon learning how to play the African drums, and then headed off for an evening hike, which finished along the river with cups of tea and more drumming. They had the big drums by the river and before you knew it, there was a group of 15 people sitting around the fire by the side of the river playing the drums and enjoying the onset of night. We headed up a bit before it got too dark to see. Jalil then invited me to dinner at his uncles house, where we had yet another Tajine (seeing a trend here???? thankfully they are tasty!) and watched a really really bad mel gibson movie. It was a pirated copy so maybe it wasn't actually the real movie but it was one that I would not even put on my rent list. After that, I headed back to the hotel to get some zzzzz's before my ride back down to Marrakesh.

I should mention here that over the course of the day, I had met a British couple with a car. They were quite lovely and offered to drive me back to Marakesh so that I didn't have to take the bus. It is here that I got a bit stuck...they had lent their car to one of the hotel guys and well, he failed to come back with it that night. In the morning it still was not parked in the parking area and we all started to get a bit concerned. Apparently the night before they called this guy, Saiyd, several times and he always said he was just heading back or almost there (oh, well, at one point he did admit to being 90km out). The story was that he needed to help his police officer friend get his uniform fixed. Well, that wasn't really the case and turns out that him and his police officer friend went off and got quite drunk. Saiyd did turn up but only early in the morning and when asked about the car, Adam (brit guy) got, "Oh, it is just over here". That went on for a while and "just over here" turned out to be a taxi ride away and a car off the side of the road and 1/2 way down a ravine. Apparently the car was about 10 m down and was stopped from dropping down the gorge by a tree. Saiyd still insisted that the car would be fine and coulde be "fixed". When Adam returned a couple hours later, he did not look so sure that the car could be fixed and when the rest of us saw it after it had been dragged and bounced out of the gorge, we agreed that fixing did not appear to be an option. It was a bit of a stressful day for us waiting around to see what happened and ultimatley the rental car company came out, took the car away and left the three of us to make our way back to Marrakesh. I must say that despite a few tears, and given that they were going to take the hit for it all, the British couple really was quite calm and handled it all really well. After that day, we opted for a Grand Taxi back down the hill rather than another night at the Cascades. Saiyd was still around as well and that did not provide for a pleasant atmosphere as he never really said he was sorry or seemed to feel any remorse and the hotel owner's son was in a right mood of being stressed and pissed off for what Saiyd had gotten the hotel wrapped into. Saiyd was more there to pick up tourists for desert trips than he was for working in the hotel and lucky for me that he did create the mess as I was half tempted to meet up with him when I did reach the desert. He probably would have left us tourists stranded lost in the middle of the dunes with no water.

Anyway, we all came out OK and made it back to Marrakesh. I had a nice dinner with the Brits (Adam and Heidi) their last night and have otherwise just been wandering around through the souks and checking out the many sights that Marrakesh has to offer. It is a wonderful city even if the drumming and bad claranet playing doesn't stop until 3 in the morning. I still feel like I could spend many more days here exploring all of the nooks and crannies of the city. Each time you turn a corner, there is something new to look at.

Tonight I am catching an overnight bus out to a city called Zagora where I will then catch a Grand Taxi to M'Hamid just on the edge of the desert. I have hooked up with a Kiwi girl and we are heading off to go on a five day desert trek. Should be fun...supposedly we get to see a dune field of 300m high dunes that stretches for 40+km.

That is about it from here...sorry for the lame bit of ending and not really saying much about Marrakesh but frankly, I am tired of typing and also deathly afraid that after all this, the computer will crap out on me. Not too worry (as if!), I'll be back on again in a week or so....