Ain’t never gonna do it without the Fez on…(Morocco)

The six hour bus ride from the desert to the city of Fez turned out to be more like 10, possibly due to several lengthy stops to cram live animals (lambs, goats and chickens) in the undercarriage luggage area.    Fez has remained a vibrant city since 600 AD; with a Medina known for clusters of crafts along labyrinth lanes (incidentally we did not see any Shriners driving the streets on tiny motorcycles, although they would have fit in just fine).

Bab Bou Jelou (Entrance gate to the Medina)

 

The tannery section is particularly popular and while it should be difficult to find, the vendor collective has envoys all over the area “assisting” with directions to their shops.  This leather co-operative shares a 600 year old skin and dye facility and even engages in integrated procurement (from sheep, camel and cow suppliers).   

 

The Medina is also an aroma assault, emanating from cafes and patisseries, meat (i.e. sheep heads) and (giant) vegetable stalls, donkey-drawn carts and shepherded live sheep. 

 

 

The architecture is most impressive in the elaborate tiling and woodwork of the various Medersas (theological colleges).

 

 

A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum (well, on the way to some Roman ruins anyway).  Morocco’s best preserved Roman site is at a place called Volubilis, an allegedly 60 minute train ride en route from Fez (through a town called Meknes).  After our obligatory morning transportation nap, we awoke to our preset 50 minute alarm.  Another half hour passed and we asked the conductor why we had not heard any call for Meknes.  He informed us that there are no station calls on Moroccan trains and that we were actually an hour past Meknes (it turns out it is only 30 minutes from Fez).  Well, next stop Rabat…

Rabat is the nation’s capital and as a result is a bit more upscale (with all those expats and diplomats you know).  While most travelers take a miss, we were pleasantly surprised by the less frenetic, more modern feel.  Imposing government and corporate office buildings encompass a tree-lined main boulevard, while a stone’s throw away, the more manageable Medina allows for an almost hassle-free stroll within its soothingly differentiated dual tones of bright blue and white.  We were even able to grab a train straight through Casablanca to the international airport for our flight to Tunis, Tunisia (we couldn’t miss our station this time, it was the last stop).

By the way, for those of you who are familiar with my disdain for early morning activity, you may be entertained to learn that in a Muslim country like Morocco, there are five prayer calls a day – and I mean calls, sometimes beginning as early as 5am.  Each Mosque has a set of loudspeakers (and your hotel is never more than a few hundred metres away), mostly cone design with the sound distortion offering the clarity somewhere between the TTC and the teacher from the Peanuts cartoons.  Actually, it is quite melodic and dramatic with ever loudening tones reminiscent (again no blasphemy intended) of the world wrestling federation familiar call line “let’s get ready to rumble”.  More interestingly, there are now even cell phone “apps” with time reminders and some with GPS to define the direction of Mecca.  Out hotel in Rabat went the less technical route with an arrow stuck to the ceiling assisting with the correct prayer path.

NOTE:  ADDITIONAL MOROCCO PHOTOS ON flickr::

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thegoobers_pics/sets/72157625360179719/

Midnight at the Oasis - Send your camels to bed (Morocco)

Save for the Korean honeymooners and Cho (another Korean via England where he is studying English), our tour bus to the desert was a pretty much all commonwealth (English and Canucks).  Up at the crack of dawn (my favourite), we hired cart-man (a guy with a makeshift wheelbarrow) to walk our luggage through the eerily quiet Marrakech Medina (kind of an after New Year’s Eve downtown vibe). Sahara Expeditions provided a driver who we later realized was simply that – a driver (not a guide).  We made several stops en route with orders each time as to how long our allotted stop would be (and sometimes the actual name of the place – never the significance).  A combination of highways signage, travel books and random group knowledge filled in the blanks – while I practiced my French with as many supplementary questions as would be tolerated.  While this may seem less than ideal, it ultimately cemented a quicker bond among the group.

 

Climbing 3000M through the High Atlas Mountains, we arrived at Ait Benhaddou, a spectacularly well preserved ancient Kasbah, seemingly drawn from the desert landscape.  It is easy to see why the area has been a Hollywood mainstay as a backdrop for such films as Lawrence of Arabia and Gladiator.  There is even a major-ish film studio in nearby Ouarzazate.

 

From there the landscape swapped between canyon lands, lunar-like rocky desert and fertile high altitude valleys where lush green stands of date palms offered a stark contrast against the terra cotta backdrop.

 

The hotel we stayed at that evening was surrounded on all sides by cliff face but it was too dark to explore – so we played a dizzying array of competitive card games (cheat, snap and something the English called “shithead”).  It was interesting to see the national instincts emerge via table trash talk - after all, no one wants be the loser at “shithead”).

The next day included a (“guided”) tour of a Palmeraie in the Draa Valley (one of the aforementioned fertile farming valleys) and a local carpet maker, complete with craft demos and mint tea (and the obligatory “hard sell” ending).

We reached the edge of the Sahara just before dusk and quickly organized a day pack (as we only then were informed that our accommodations were 1.5 hours – by camel - into the desert at a Berber tent camp).  Despite the surprise, this really was a highlight as our camel caravan disappeared among the shifting sands of the rising dunes and we arrived at our camp just in time for the moon rise (an appropriate crescent reflecting the faith of our host country).  Most of the group succumbed to the peer pressure and immediately climbed the adjacent dune before returning out of breath but ready for the traditional Berber drumming and song that preceded dinner.

The festive portion of the evening ended by the campfire with more Berber songs and even a few good Berber jokes, before bedding down under a star studded sky (with no ambient light it actually seemed to be overflowing with constellations).

 

Hand over all your camels - Berber Dave

Another pre-6am start in order to hit the sunrise on our return camel trek, before we chowed down a quick breakfast and (along with Cho) parted ways with the group (they had a nine hour trip slated for the return to Marrakech and we had a similar distance via multiple busses in order to reach 1400 year old medieval Fez.

As Time Goes By (Morocco)

We really thought they’d be playing it!  I was greeted as Monsieur David by the man in a shawl collared white tux and we proceeded to our table through arched doorways of white wash plaster.  It seemed authentic, especially when I spotted the piano next to the bar, but alas, no Sam.  Rick’s Café is pretty much the only thing American kitschy playing off the famous film (the food was pretty good). 

Casablanca is the economic capital of Morocco, but commercial, industrial does not make for great tourism, save for the Hassam II Mosque, built on reclaimed land jutting out of the City’s seaside.  It was built from 1987 – 1993 and the tour info proudly boasts that it is the world’s third largest Mosque (the other two are in Saudi Arabia).  It holds 25,000 worshippers in ultra modern marble, wood and glass splendor, with space for another 80K in the environs. It even has a retractable roof and at night and a green laser shines from the top of the 200M high minaret towards Mecca – pretty much a “stadium” of worship (no religious slight or blasphemy intended). It is also the only mosque that can be visited on the inside (by non-Muslims).

Cities and towns in Morocco most often contain a Medina – a walled-in “old city” with a maze of lanes and alleys, filled with shops, stalls, and markets.  Our next stop was the seaside village of Essaouira and its tranquil “Medina” (no vehicles allowed).  It was here that we stayed at our first “Riad” – a converted old style multi-level home built around a central courtyard. Fishing is where all the action is here – although the end of the beach sports several kite surfing and sailing shacks and you can ride a horse or camel on the beach (if you are careful not to stumble through an impromptu local soccer match). Near the pier are numbered stalls with platters of the daily catch.  Simply point to what you want and they’ll serve it up right there.

The comparison is quite dramatic when arriving in Marrakech where a carnival atmosphere pervades the main square (Jemaa-el-Fna or”Place of the dead”). In stark contrast to the name, the square is full of life, with snake charmers, jugglers, monkey tamers, acrobats, fortune tellers, and more.  The Medina here is full-force, in your face – all the time!  People, bicycles, mule-drawn-carts and motorcycles continually dodge each other within 6 foot (2 metre) wide passageways.  The food stalls are an extravaganza of display, with piles of olives and fruit, pyramids of spices and powders and bowls of snails, fish, and other cookable animal life. This is also where we saw the most tourists and as a result, the sleazier hard-sell tactics flow from the myriad shops.  There are many other sights (palaces, gardens, ruins) within walking distance, but all roads return to where the action is – the Fracas of the Fna.

Off to the desert… 


P.S. a quick note to those who suggested that Alitalia flights are chock full of Italian models – well, you’ll have to ask Les – as they were all men.