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(We would like to thank John and Leah Atwater - two delightful people that we met on this trip. A family emergency caused us to have to leave our trip early, so we are using - with their permission - the Atwater's writeup. We made a few changes and , hopefully, did not mess it up too much.
Morocco struck us by its contrasts: snow capped mountains and the sea; miles of lush farm land with plenty of water and many more miles of desert; fully veiled women and teens in blue jeans walking side by side; donkeys, mules, camels and tractors; mile after mile of electric wires and more miles between Bedouin tents where candles are used; four lane highways and dirt tracks; ancient Roman ruins and modern cities; soccer fields wherever there is a level spot, even in the desert; men riding side saddle on donkeys because they can‘t ride astride wearing djallabas. The list goes on and on. It struck us as a country that, in addition to its beauty, is changing fast, and is more modern and liberal than we had expected.
The first few days were spent in Casablanca; the third largest city in Africa, a major port and the financial center of Morocco. Our impression was of wide palm lined avenues, a relatively clean, but old and crowded market place, lots of traffic made up of well kept, late model cars and trucks; motorcycles; bicycles; a few donkey and horse carts and pedestrians. There were blocks and blocks of white-washed walls behind which you could see flat roofed houses and greenery. It was a good time to get acquainted with Hicham Zine, our Moroccan guide, who is a college educated Berber from the northern part of Morocco, is well over six feet tall, has blue eyes, thinning short black curly hair, a gentle smile and manner, and was a delightful, knowledgeable guide. He has been a guide with Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT) for six years. He quickly molded our group into his “family”. Announcements would start with a smile and gentle, “Now family, today we are going to . . .” The original family consisted of four couples who opted for the pre-tour stay in Casablanca. Keith and Julia are lawyers in Conn.; Steve and Lynne, Glenda and Ron all worked for the Federal Government and are retired and living in Maryland. John and Leah are retired and live in Ann Arbor Michigan.
Our hotel room was on the third floor on the corner so from our window we could see the world go by. One enterprising young man had set himself up as the guardian of parked cars. He checked his section of cars regularly, occasionally kicking a tire, smearing the windows, sometimes sitting on a stool next to the wall and always right there when the owner came to drive away. If the owner didn’t tip him at once he simply planted himself in front of the car until he did. Women, sometimes with a baby on the back and always wearing djallabas, came to the small fruit market directly across the street. We made use of that market to buy drinking water when we first arrived.
Some highlights of our stay in Casablanca were visits to the market, seaside, Hassan II Mosque, Jewish quarter, Rick’s Café in the Hyatt Hotel, Notre Dame de Lourdes Cathedral, City Center, the royal palace, an old quarter nearby where large silver and brass pots are rented for big family occasions such as weddings and circumcisions. I also got a bug and needed to take 24 hours off our third day to sleep it off. The Medina or old section of town is a market place where fresh produce is sold along with manufactured goods and meats. There were wild birds in cages; leather and brass; native dress (djallabas and kaftans), henna powder to draw designs on hands and feet. Some of the more unusual stalls were selling horse meat and grilled sheep’s heads. The Jewish quarter was an upscale part of town with a pedestrian walkway, French style three and four story houses with balconies and metal grill work. Hicham said that inside they were furnished in traditional Moroccan style. Rick’s Café is strictly a tourist attraction. The movie Casablanca was not filmed in Morocco. Hyatt has capitalized on the fame of the film to re-create the movie set, and charge high prices for beverages sold there. Notre Dame de Lourdes Cathedral is quite new and has modern stained glass windows covering the side walls. The wall behind the alter is of cedar with a crucifix and much larger statue of the saint hanging on the wall. By far the most impressive tour was to the Mosque of King Hassan II. He was the father of the present king and rather controversial. Moroccans lauded his foreign policy (he protected the Jews and had good relations with Europe and the US) but thought his domestic policy was dreadful because he over taxed the Berber farmers to build elaborate palaces and Mosques and was very strict in his policies toward women in particular.
The Mosque was finished in 1997 at a cost of more than $800 million dollars using 3300 workmen who took six years to finish it. Approximately 25,000 worshipers can worship in the mosque at one time. All materials are native to Morocco except the chandeliers and Carara marble columns flanking the niche where the Imam leads prayers, which were imported from Italy. Women are confined to the balconies overlooking the main floor during services. The ceiling soars several stories high and from the windows you can see the Atlantic crashing on rocks outside. There is a central walkway reserved for the king. It also has a retractable ceiling so in summer you can worship under the stars. In the basement are special fountains where the faithful can perform purifying ablutions before coming to prayer, and an as yet unfinished Hammam or bath houses for men and women in both Roman style with a pool and Moroccan style with three heated rooms varying in temperature and many faucets for hot water. The tower can be seen from a long way away as it soars skyward.
We arrived on Tuesday, February 8. The remainder of the group came on Friday the 11th and after they had a cursory trip around Casablanca we all boarded our bus and headed for Rabat, the present capital of Morocco. It is one of four royal capitals in Morocco. The other three are Meknes, established as the capital in the 8th century by Moulay Idriss I a descendant of the Prophet Mohamed founder of the first Arab state who converted the people to Islam; Fez which was made the capital in the 9th century by Moulay Idriss II and Marrakech which was made the capital in 1071 and ruled by a fundamentalist reform group drawn from nomadic Berber tribes under the leadership of Youssef Ben Tachfine. From 1147 - 1248 a second Berber Islamic reform group from the tribes of the High Atlas founded the city of Rabat as the capital of Morocco. They were known as the Almohades and were led by Yacoub al Manssour. In 1907 at a meeting in Aljeziras, Spain took over the northern and southern parts of Morocco and the Western Sahara, and France the central part. A treaty in 1912 established a Spanish, French protectorate in Morocco. In 1956 Morocco gained its independence, though there were coup attempts and political unrest during most of the ’70s. Something over 20% of the Moroccan budget goes to the military to protect their borders, especially with Algeria. Today you can get along very well with French, Arabic, Berber or Spanish. They struggle with English, but are friendly and kind in the process.
A few other noteworthy historical facts are that the Jews have been in Morocco since before the Romans. Most of them left for Israel after 1948. The “native” population is Berber and they still constitute 60% of the population. Some speculation is that the Berbers originally came from India. The Romans occupied Morocco from 25 B.C. to the 4th century and the Christians dominated in the 5th century. Visigoths came in from Germany, which may explain some of the differences in stature between the northern Moroccan Berbers and those of the High Atlas and Anti Atlas to the south. Hicham was more than 6 ft. tall with blue eyes; Aziz, our bus driver and Mohamed the baggage handler and assistant to the driver were short, slight, had dark brown eyes and came from the High Atlas Mountains. For a time Morocco had an empire that included most of Spain and the Sahara to Timbuktu.
We were housed in a beautiful hotel in Sale, the sister city directly across the river from Rabat. Our room had sliding glass doors leading to a patio and rose garden with views of the two most important landmarks of Rabat; the tomb of King Mohamed V and the lighted tower of the unfinished mosque of Yacoub al Manssour. That afternoon Hicham gave us an introduction to Arabic which is written and read from right to left using a 28 letter alphabet. Language in Morocco is a combination of Berber, Arabic, French and Spanish. Moroccan is different from Algerian, Tunisian or Egyptian though they all understand classical Arabic.
We had our welcoming dinner that evening and got acquainted with the rest of the group. Phyllis and Bill from Lancaster, PA retired faculty at Franklin and Marshall (English Composition and Economics); Carol from Cleveland works for the Cleveland Indians; Terry from Chicago area is a retired cop and Judy and Harold from Long Island retired military. It was a congenial group.
Rabat is the capital of Morocco so we started our tour by visiting the Palace to watch the changing of the guards. In winter they wear scarlet uniforms. Provincial guards in green uniform were also marching in front of the Palace. From there we went to the Merinide Necropolis from the 14th century where a wild garden overlooks farmland. Storks were nesting on top of the columns, making quite a racket as they clacked their bills. They come down from Europe each year to winter in Morocco, much as our birds travel to Florida and Texas for the winter. The gateway to the necropolis was quite impressive, with brick arches. Two Sudanese musicians wearing costumes decorated with cowry shells were playing for tips at the front of the gate. Inside were the tombs of a king and his queen. She was an English woman who converted to Islam. Then it was on to the tomb of Mohamed V which faces the unfinished mosque. In front of the tomb, guards on Arabian horses sat at attention.
We had lunch at a Moroccan restaurant by the sea, watching waves crash and later seeing surfers going out to catch the big ones. It was within walking distance of the walled Kasbah of the Oudaya. This was built by Yacoub al Manssour and is divided into three sections: the Andalusia part where refugees from the purge of Arabs and Jews from Spain in 1492 were housed; the Andalusia Gardens and a Berber section. Recently it has become an art colony which isn‘t surprising since the winding narrow roads and steep houses are picturesque.
Late afternoon a young woman from USAID came and talked to us about women in Morocco. At the time of independence in 1956 the women of Morocco were given the vote and a number of seats in government. All of this sounds very liberal and progressive, however there were other issues such as the legal age for marriage of girls; polygamy and instant divorce which needed to be addressed. The present king, Mohamed VI, came to power in 1999 upon the death of his father. He is young (in his 40s), married to an educated commoner and as of 2004 was able to convince the religious leaders to be more flexible. The legal age of marriage is now 18 years for both male and female; polygamy is not a right but a request and actually is rare in the present generation and divorce laws have been changed so a man can no longer simply say “I divorce you” three times and be rid of his wife. Witnesses and judges are now involved. More women are going to college, usually in France. We noticed on the street that the dress of women varies from being completely veiled, to completely westernized with no head covering and modern clothing.
That evening we had a truly extraordinary dinner. It was served in an old house (14th century or earlier) where we sat on couches with cushions at our back. There was candlelight and musicians played traditional Arabic music on lute and drums softly in the background. Our waiters were outfitted in turbans and tunics; the women wearing caps with streamers. It was like stepping into a painting. The food, however, was anything but stepping into a painting. It was delicious. Starters consisted of two kinds of olives and bread followed by 8 dishes - pickled beets, potato chunks in olive oil and spices, eggplant, green pepper, tomatoes and cucumber, shredded cabbage, tiny meat pies filled with chicken and beef and a delicious pigeon pie with powdered sugar on the crust. The main course was three tajines; chicken with lemon and olives, lamb with raisin sauce and lamb with eggplant. Dessert was thin layers of pastry crust with almond and custard filling. This was followed by coffee or the omnipresent mint tea.
Sunday morning bright and early we set out for Fez with stops along the way in Volubilis and Meknes. It was a beautiful drive through forests and farm land. Pine trees and cork oaks dominated. At one point we stopped to examine the cork trees up close. There was a man gathering truffles which grow near cork oaks. In one town a section of the houses were painted red, quite different from the white or tan of other Moroccan towns. Hicham said that after the earthquake and tidal wave of 1960 which wiped out the city of Agidir, this town gave the refugees from Agidir housing. More than 16,000 people perished in that earthquake. The farmland was fertile with fields of wheat, barley, vegetables and grapes. Meknes is the wine center of Morocco. There were also olive orchards. Many of the fields were fenced off with cactus plants. We also saw cows, sheep, goats, chickens, donkeys and horses. Olives, dates, wool and leather are exported.
Moulay Idriss II founded Mecknes in the 9th century. He was a bit of a tyrant, so to protect himself from the Berbers he was exploiting, he built three walls around the town and a granary big enough to hold 20 years of provisions. Most of the old town was destroyed in the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, but the granary and stables are still there--vast arched space as big as several barns put together. He was also said to have had 500 wives. He would visit a town, pick the most beautiful young girl he could find, marry her and put her in his harem, thereby tying the town to his rule. We visited an ornate private Mosque and Mausoleum of Moulay Idriss and then walked through the medina to the olive market, past rows of beautiful pastries. Lots of people were out shopping. Ten days after the Muslim New Years Day there is a special children’s holiday where gifts are given to children. This was the weekend before that holiday.
Volubilis is located north of Meknes. It was the Roman capital of the region. In 1919 a team of French archaeologists unearthed the remains of the city which was destroyed at the time of the 1755 earthquake. What we saw were columns marking the entrance to the town; foundation outlines of houses and many beautiful mosaics. The one that struck me was of the clown riding backwards on a donkey. Within sight of this Roman ruin is the holy city of Mouley Idriss I, the Arab descendant of the Prophet Mohamad who came from Bagdad at the end of the 8th century and brought Islam to Morocco. His was the first dynasty and his descendants remain kings in Morocco. The city he founded is sparkling white, set on a hill surrounded by dark mountains.
The remainder of the day was spent driving through lush farm land, past dams used for hydroelectric power and irrigation and finally through a mountain pass into Fez. Morocco has no oil or gas so Hassan II who ruled from 1961 to 1999 built 40 dams during his reign. The largest one is near Fez. Our hotel was in the new section of the city with a great view of the old walled Medina, which has been named a World Heritage site by UNESCO. One of the things we noticed right away was the number of satellite dishes on top of buildings. The present king, Mohamed VI, cancelled the tax on satellite dishes his father had imposed and opened TV to everyone without charge. This means that in Morocco you can get something like 180 channels free.
Our guide to Fez was Mohamed. He was dressed in suit, white shirt, tie and nicely polished shoes. His English was excellent. We started with the potters that have been banished from the Medina and set up shop outside the walls. This is because they burn the culls from olive presses to fire their pots and this creates black smoke. We did see some children working. Some parents don’t accept compulsory education and instead want their children to learn a trade.
After we went through the gate to the medina we were taken to the Chellah, or Jewish section. Chellah means salt. In times gone by the Jews were given the task of curing the heads of the enemy with salt so they could be placed on stakes as a warning to the people. Most of the Jews of Fez have emigrated to Israel. There is still a Synagogue, which we visited, and rows of houses with distinctive wrought iron balconies.
Fez and Marrakech were built for trade. Camel caravans from south of the Sahara would come to Fez or Marrakech with their loads of ivory, gold and precious wood. This was traded for goods from Europe and Morocco. One corner of the Medina has a caravan inn, or caravanesere where camels would be tethered in the courtyard while the cameleers were housed in adjoining rooms. You definitely need a guide to get through the winding, twisting, narrow streets of the Medina. It is so narrow, no motorized vehicles can get through so the only means of stocking the shops is by donkey or horse. As we walked along we had to be alert for donkey trains and flatten ourselves against the wall to let them pass. We were taken to a government sponsored rug cooperative and came close to buying a beautiful, hand made round rug for the living room. We bargained, but didn’t agree on price. The ritual of buying in the medina is to be comfortably seated, served mint tea with great ceremony and then shown many, many beautiful rugs. If your eyes light up there is an Arab dealer standing by to take you aside and began the bargaining process. You are expected to bargain for everything. They
name a price, you name a much lower one. You are asked about your children, about the weather, about your health. He even asked me if I believed in God at one point. We were close, but had decided on a firm limit and stuck to it and let the rug go for someone who could come up with more. We saw men rushing to the mosque for noon prayers, cleansing themselves in the fountain before entering the house of worship.
We also saw women and children carrying bread dough to the ovens to be baked and stopped by the bakery to watch the action. Each customer’s loaves are marked in a different way so they know they are receiving their own baked bread. We stopped by a Medrassa, or holy school, where poor children can continue their education to get into college. Their room, board and education are provided free. Lunch was in an amazing 14th century house where we sat on couches and were served tajine in quiet splendor. The center of the house was three stories high and must have originally been a courtyard.
After lunch we went to the tannery where we were given sprigs of mint to counteract the smell and taken to a rooftop observation post to see the men working the leather by standing hip deep in vats of different colors, working the hides with their feet. It would not be my favorite job! The results are the famous Moroccan leather found all over the world. The final stop was at a shop where djallabas are made. By this time Hicham, our guide, was wearing a handsome blue one most of the time. It was an amazing experience to spend a day in the Medina of Fez, but also a tiring one. We ended up in a modern super market shopping for treats to take to the desert. They had all sorts of wines and liquors and a special check out counter where for alcohol. I wouldn’t recommend fig schnapps but it was warming.
Promptly at seven o’clock our Moroccan host arrived to take us and Keith and Julia to his house for dinner. They lived in the new section of Fez in a fourth floor walk up apartment and had a charming family of five. The three children were 10, 11 and 12 years old; Amine, Mohamed and the Arab version of Roseline. Sophie, the mother, spoke some English and Keith spoke enough French so we all got along. The kids were bright, outgoing and eager to practice their English. We asked the 12 year old daughter what she studied in school and she started by saying French, Arabic and English. Small wonder that Moroccans speak several languages with ease. She is also taking math and science. The father works in real estate. Both father and mother came from a long line of Fez families. Mohamed asked if I’d like to wash up before dinner. I had just taken a shower before coming, but realized he had carefully practiced this phrase in English so took him up on the offer. We were served Moroccan style at a round table with vast quantities of delicious home bake bread, various condiments such as olives, cucumber and a salsa kind of sauce in small dishes around a center pot of tajine. Tajine is the name of the pot which consists of a pie pan shaped clay dish with a conical cover that has a hole in it. What is cooked in it is a stew of meat and vegetables, olive oil and spices. In this case it was lamb cooked with squash similar to butternut with a sauce of olives and various spices. In deference to our culture we also had knives and forks. The family, however, ate by breaking off pieces of bread, taking a small portion of meat or squash and putting it in their mouth. I decided to try it that way and found it quite easy. The trick was not to wipe my gooey fingers on the napkin, but instead use a piece of bread. Our hostess provided paper napkins at the end of the meal. The small boys were delighted by our gift of matchbox GM cars. We explained that we come from where automobiles are made in the USA, but couldn’t fit a full size car in our suitcases. They went in the bedroom and came back with several other cars they already own.
The following day we started across the ranges of mountains to the Sahara. There are four ranges of mountains, the Riff which are rather like the Allegany, tree covered and not too high; the Middle Atlas that go almost to 4,000 ft., the High Atlas with peaks over 14,000 ft. which are snow covered much of the year and the Anti Atlas that flank the desert and are bare, jagged and not as high. At the top of the pass going over the High Atlas we got out and walked for a while so we could truly enjoy the magnificent cedar trees, some up to 800 years old. They were snow covered and beautiful. Morocco is fighting deforestation and has set aside large tracts of mountain land as forest preserves. There is a small town toward the top that looks for all the world as if it was transferred from Switzerland. A ski resort near by makes it a popular spot for European holiday seekers year around. It has the only private university in Morocco, which teaches in English and is expensive. It was started in 1994 by King Hassan II. We had a nine hour drive that day and stopped several times along the way for walking, picture taking and the like. Hicham gave us a rundown on the educational system in Morocco. One of the oldest universities in the world, Karaouyine, was started in Fez in the 9th at first centered on the Koran, but branching out to teach law, geography, astrology, and arithmetic. It is believed that Arabic numerals and the concept of zero were developed here. The educational tradition now is for very young children to attend a Koranic school where they learn to hear and speak classical Arabic. At the age of 6 they go to primary school for six years followed by three years of preparatory school and three years of high school. It is not unusual for university students to receive a baccalaureate degree in an additional three years. Public school is free and compulsory through primary school for both boys and girls but is not strictly enforced. In the desert they have special trucks that go out to distant villages and oasis to teach the students intensively 2 months a year. The kids come to this portable classroom for their lessons.
Between the Middle Atlas and High Atlas is a high desert plain that reminded us of parts of northern New Mexico and Colorado. We also passed lots of apple orchards. One stretch of road was notable for the healthy looking wild dogs waiting for a handout. Truck and bus drivers are so glad of a diversion on their long trips that they regularly feed the strays. We passed military camps and prisons. During the 1970s and 80s Morocco went through a time of turmoil when communism was on the rise. Things have much improved since then and everyone is enthusiastic about the present king. Finally we came to a very large oasis lush with date palms that stretches for 60 miles. There are something like 5 million date palms in Morocco of many different kinds. As we neared the desert we started to see sand fences along the road.
At last we reached Erfoud, said goodbye temporarily to Aziz and Mohamed and were assigned to Toyota Land Cruisers to take us into the desert. Our driver was Mohamed, a jovial, very black Moroccan who was a good driver, even on the flat stretches when the four SUVs raced across almost 60miles of untracked barren desert. We got into camp, a mat was put down to deposit our luggage and we chose our tent. The tents were tall enough to stand up in, had matting on the floor, strong pipes for a frame, two beds with mattresses, sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, towels and liners. A small table between the beds held a candle lantern and mirror. They had a row of tents near by with toilets and on the other side a row of tents rigged with a water tank and hoses for showers.
The camp crew had a mess tent and separate cook tent. We ate in a large mess tent. We were given warm water to wash up, hot coffee or tea and settled in. This first camp was one of several camps strung out in a line within sight of the tallest sand dune in the Sahara. That evening, after a delicious dinner of couscous with meat and vegetables, a group of Tuareg musicians playing drums and castanets sang and danced by firelight in their blue turbans and robes. It was cold. We were glad of both the sleeping bag and blanket and wore our long underwear to bed.
Before dawn the next morning we looked out to see shadowy figures silhouetted against the horizon. Bedouin had come in from villages miles away to earn tips by helping us tourists make it up the dune to see the sunrise and also to try to sell us polished fossils. It was quite a hike, but worth it for the view. Coming down, we had fun skiing "Moroccan style." We would lay down and a Bedouin would pull us down the dune on our back side. They were a wily, charming lot and we ended up with a couple of fossils. In all the empty, vastness of dunes, mountains, plains and sky with nary a plant in sight it is hard to believe that much of the Sahara was under the sea at one time.
After breakfast two cameleers with trains of seven camels in a row came walking into camp. The idea was to pack up our baggage in the Land Cruisers, hop on camels and meet the Land Cruisers an hour later at a desert inn. They parked the camels, with much grumbling and groaning on the part of the beasts as they heaved themselves to the ground and sat chewing their cuds and batting their long eyelashes at us. Moroccan camels are all dromedary, just like the ads for Camel cigarettes. When lying down, their hind legs come forward in what looks to be an impossible position. They had big cushiony saddles for us to sit on, either behind or in front of the hump, and a metal handle in front to hang onto. Getting on was easy, getting comfortable was another matter. I was sitting back of the hump hanging on for dear life when the beastie came up rear first pitching me dangerously forward and then got the front legs up so I was more or less level but felt as if I could slide sideways with the greatest of ease. Part of the problem was lack of stirrups.
During the next hour I gradually got the hang of it, relaxing into the swaying rocking motion of the camel’s walk. They are almost completely silent as they walk on big, soft, padded feet. Their footprint is bigger than the palm of my hand, with two neat, large toe nails. I couldn’t help thinking of pony rides at fairs. We were going parallel to the track the Land Cruisers went down, within sight of people the entire time and the train was led by a cameleer.
We were driven by SUV to Rissini, a town near by, to visit a small royal residence or kasbah built by the Berber rulers of the 16th or 17th century and recently restored. It was a much more intimate royal residence than previous palaces we had seen, built with high ceilings, a courtyard with a fountain and a well which the people of the village use to get their water. As we were leaving, the local fertilizer truck (two donkeys with panniers full of manure), squeezed through the wall in front of us led by a small boy who was having trouble keeping his donkey going the direction he wanted it to. On the way into town we saw men building a wall, so Hicham walked us back that way and they showed us exactly how they did it by tamping dirt down in a mold until it was firm and then taking the boards away. We walked another block or so, through narrow unpaved alleys where the mud had dried unevenly during the rainy season so we needed to watch our step. Small children were playing outside. We came to a narrow door, Hicham announced our arrival and we were invited into the home of a waiter and his family. The waiter and two eldest children were at work and school, but the wife, with a baby in a sling on her back and two young children invited us in. It was a one room house with padded benches along the side where the family would sleep at night. The ceiling was high so it would be cool in summer. A large china cupboard along one wall held the dishes. There was matting on the floor and rugs.
Hicham gave us a demonstration on how to make mint tea using green tea and absinth leaves. The trick is to steep the tea in a little water and get rid of the first couple of glassfuls which are bitter, add a large chunk of sugar which was brought out in a box and was rock hard, needing a special brass mallet to break a piece off, add the absinth leaves and then pour it into delicate glasses from a great distance to cool it as it went into the glass. The children were friendly, the housewife looked a bit harried, but smiled a lot and brought us roasted salted peanuts to go with the tea. All in all it was an enjoyable interlude and glimpse of family life in poorer families. We went from there to a rather lavish restaurant for lunch and as I flushed the toilet, washed my hands under warm, running water I couldn’t help think of the contrast with the mother of five who had to draw her water from the well and lug it up the hill to her home. She also was cross eyed, a condition that could easily be fixed if one had the resources.
The only other stop we made that day was at a lapidary shop where they were polishing slabs containing fossils and making them into stunning coffee tables and objects d’art. We were leaving the lush, date palm filled oasis for our second camp in the desert. This time we were the only ones there and the two hour drive across a flat, rock strewn plain surrounded by mountains with sand dunes forming along the edge was serene and beautiful. There were no roads, just the tracks that the Land Cruisers made. We could see the blue tents of camp for a long distance awaiting our arrival. The crew from the first camp were waiting for us with hot tea or coffee (it was surprisingly cold), the mat to unload our luggage on and a warm welcome. We settled in with a little time before the cook gave us a demonstration on how to make chicken tajine.
CHICKEN TAJINE (for four)
1 tajine pot (I think any dutch oven would work)
½ chicken (skin on) 2 onions 2 tomatoes 1 potato
2 cloves garlic olives celantro (or Chinese parsley) pickled lemon
1tsp cumin, ½ tsp paprika, ¼ tsp pepper, ½ tsp ginger, ½ tsp salt, tumaric (for color).
1. Mix together one chopped onion, 1 peeled tomato, 2 cloves garlic minced, ½ celantro minced, spices.
2. Put some of mixture under the skin of the chicken next to the meat, rest around meat. Close pot and put on fire for 15 minutes.
3. Add ½ glass of water, second onion, sliced tomato, sliced potato on top of chicken in that order. Close pot and cook for additional 30 minutes.
4. Add rest of water, slice lemon in quarters as flower on top and cook 10 minutes.
5. Add olives (previously boiled in hot water 10 minutes), rest of celantro on top and cook final 10 minutes. ENJOY
Nb. Preserve whole lemon in mixture of salt, water and vinegar for 2 months.
That night we were thankful for stout pipe frames on the tent and a sand proof outer tent over the canvas tent. The wind blew and howled and was cold. We snuggled down in our sleeping bags, comfortable as can be hoping our bladders would hold out until morning.
It is hard to describe our feelings next morning as we walked for an hour in the desert toward a black spot in the distance which turned out to be a Bedouin tent housing a family of 12. They camp for a few months with their flock of sheep and goats and then move on. We were expected and welcomed. They lifted a flap of the tent and invited us in to sit on piles of blankets in the public part of the tent. It was divided in two parts, the family part where storage, cooking, child care, and women’s tasks were done and the public part where the family would sleep at night. The tent looked almost black from the outside and is made of strips of finely woven camel’s hair fabric. When it rains they put sheep skins over the roof. Stout tent poles set into a wooden form hold up the roof in the center and tent pegs stretch out the roof on the sides. It was low enough so I couldn’t stand up inside. The grandmother was twisting wool into yarn on a spindle. An unroofed alcove next to the private part was used as the kitchen, with stones holding up pots over an open fire. They did have a propane burner on which they made tea for us. Hicham gave us a talk on the Bedouin, which means anyone who lives in the desert. Sometimes they live in town, some gradually move into more permanent housing but many use their tents and move several times a year. They are referred to as nomads. Scrub acacia trees provide wood. Wells are shared by many families and no one pitches their tent next to the well. The government has helped the Bedouin by drilling wells, sending out a truck once a month with basic supplies and clothing they can buy and by providing portable schooling.
The Land Cruisers met us at the tent and drove us to the well, which was quite a ways away. On the way we saw a mother and daughter with a small donkey laden with plastic containers. We waited for them and watched as they pulled bucket after bucket up to fill their 15 containers. They used a funnel made by cutting off a plastic bottle and lining it with fabric to filter out the sand. The scene (minus SUVs and tourists) was Biblical.
The rest of the morning we drove through the desert. Sand dunes are forming over the nearby hills and mountains as the desert creeps closer and closer to the towns. We visited a second Bedouin camp and found a girl baking bread in a rounded oven dug in the sand with a rounded clay top with a slit in it. The fire had a round metal pan on it which she slid the bread onto through the slit. There were baby goats frolicking about. The mountain side opposite was full of fossils. A little further on we came to a break in the mountains where a stream passes through and were startled to see date palms, an Auberge and camping compound. Three motorcycles roared past. They were on their way to a dried up lake bed where they could race with the wind. Drought has been a big problem in Morocco. A fairly large lake in 1985 turned into a lake bed by 1988. The surface was a cracked mud pan. That afternoon some of us walked over the dunes nearest camp and for a little while experienced the deep silence, serenity and beauty of the desert.
Late in the afternoon Hicham gave us a talk on Islam, the Prophet Mohamed, the customs and practices of the religion and answered questions. It permeates the culture of Morocco from the five pointed star in the middle of the Moroccan flag, each point standing for one of the five pillars of Islam, to the call to prayer five times a day from the top of the Mosque which is the center of any town we were constantly reminded that we were in a Muslim country. The five pillars of Islam are:1) the belief in one God with Mohamed as his prophet 2) praying five times each day at dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset and evening 3) observing the month of Ramadan by thanking God for everything and fasting from sunrise to sunset 4) giving to charity starting with your neighbor in need (most Muslims give 2.7% of their yearly income) 5) making a pilgrimage to Mecca once in a lifetime. After dinner that night our drivers and the camp staff put on a show for us singing folk songs accompanied by drum, guitar and cymbals and invited us to dance. The star of the evening was the little old man who runs the camp who danced by hopping up and down very fast on springy knees. He was impossible to follow as a partner!
The next morning it was cold and crisp and we could see for miles. A train of mother and baby camels passed by camp on their way to grazing. We had a hearty breakfast of Berber pancakes with honey and oranges, packed our stuff into the SUVs and set out for a walk in the desert. A few miles out our SUVs picked us up and took us to a semi-nomads house for a brief visit. It was two rooms made of adobe with out buildings and corrals for the livestock. The surprise was a solar panel on the roof for electricity. They were near a good water source. Our destination was a Berber cemetery. Graves are marked with a vertical piece of slate or other thin stone with no inscription. The mounded grave had small stones on it. When a Muslim dies, their body is washed completely and then wrapped in a white burial cloth. Prayers are said. The family then accompanies the body to the Mosque where the Imam says a short prayer for the dead. Men only accompany the body to the cemetery where a grave has been dug 1 meter deep. The corpse is put in on the right side facing Mecca. Burial takes place within 12 hours. The family stays together for the first day celebrations. The third day is the important celebration when friends and family from far and near gather. There is a Muslim joke about burying your mother-in-law 2 meters deep on her face so she’ll rot in hell.
We went from the cemetery to a farm where date palms and almonds were growing. Underneath were crops of henna, broad beans, alfalfa and barley. This was the only Peace Corps project we saw in Morocco. They helped put in a pumping station and irrigation system to make the farm more productive. A short distance away was a one room, square, adobe school house. The teacher, a young man of 23, explained that this was a new primary school opened last year. He has 18 pupils, each with an individual desk and work book. Last year he started the first class and this year is teaching those students in class two plus a few more beginning students. Three girls were in their teens, having a chance to learn reading and arithmetic for the first time. As the school population increases the ministry of education will build more schools. The kids demonstrated math skills and then sang the Moroccan national anthem (badly). We responded by singing the Star Spangled Banner (badly) and then took our leave. When we first got there the teacher asked us not to take photos. As we were leaving, I remembered I had a small U.S. flag I wanted to give to the school. When I stepped back inside the school to give it to the teacher, there was a moment of panic until the kids realized I wanted to give them something, not take a photo. The teacher was very pleased with the flag.
The afternoon drive to Tinerhir was on unpaved, bumpy roads where four wheel drive was a comfort. We made it all right and enjoyed the changing scenery as we went from desert to farm land to date palm plantations, but it was a bumpy ride. The rather elegant Kasbah Hotel awaited us with hot showers, soft beds and all the trappings of civilization. It also had electricity and telephones and it was here that Ron and Glenda learned of his mother’s imminent death and headed home. Hicham smoothed the way by changing hotel and air reservations form them. This is where a good, experienced, native guide is indispensable.
One of the things Overseas Adventure Travel and its parent company Grand Circle does is to help people in countries to which they take tourists through the Grand Circle Foundation. Each time we’ve traveled with OAT we have seen the foundation work in action. This time it was a hostel in Tinerhir for 160 boys from poor families where they are fed and housed while attending local preparatory and high schools. They have provided computers and books for a library for the boys and encouraged us to send additional books. The facility was Spartan, but clean and the food they were preparing smelled delicious. We divided into small groups and gave some of the boys a chance to practice their English. The rest of the morning we walked through the lush gardens of the Todra Valley along irrigation paths beside small garden plots. A couple were cutting alfalfa shoots to use as fodder and invited me to help them cut. As we neared the river small bamboo plants used for wind breaks and fences were growing along the path. Women wearing white head scarves and robes were hurrying along the paths to go visiting on a sunny Saturday morning. We had to cross a log bridge at the river. Women were doing their laundry on one side of the river, spreading it out on bushes to dry, while a man was standing in the middle of the rushing water washing out his sheep skins. We continued up a steep, unpaved path into the old town where Hicham pointed out a square where a synagogue and mosque faced each other across a square and for centuries Jews and Muslims lived peacefully together. The street we walked through had some of the ordinary implements of daily life for sale, like carding combs for taking the burrs out of wool and round wooden frames for sieves.
Todra Gorge is one of the tourist attractions of Morocco and rightly so. That afternoon we drove up through winding, twisting mountain roads, past small towns clinging to the side of the road and mountain overlooking a beautiful valley filled with green fields and a combination of flowering almond trees and dark green date palms. The bus went only so far, parked and we walked through the narrowest part of the gorge where the cliff walls that go up more than 1000 feet almost come together. Lunch was in a hotel built right up against one of the cliffs where we were served yet another delicious version of tajine, this time with prunes and sesame seeds sprinkled on top.
We barely got back to the hotel in time to go to the hammam, or public bath. Three things are important for any Moroccan town; the Mosque; the bakery and the hammam. Two Moroccan women came on the bus to get the women and show them what to do. Mohamed, our trusty baggage handler, helped the men out. Sexes are segregated. First they undressed down to the underwear and hung up the clothes. Then we were taken to the coolest of the three rooms. One of the assistants started fetching buckets of hot water. We were washed down with black soap (made from olives) while sitting next to the wall. Then rinsed. Then they had us lie down and scrubbed us all over with an abrasive mitt to get off all of the dead skin. Another rinse. Next step was to take us into the hottest room which was a bit like a steam room where our hair was thoroughly washed - then another rinse. The last step was a massage with oil. We ended up back in the first room doing stretching exercises. Hicham said his mother and sister regularly spend three or four hours at the hammam twice a week. There were Moroccan ladies in there with us, some with a whole family of children getting their Saturday scrub. It is a social occasion for some of them. We glowed all over and felt squeaky clean and relaxed.
Back at our hotel, there was only a short time to get organized before we went to the home of a woman who put henna designs on the hands of the ladies in our group. Henna is a green plant which is dried, powdered and mixed into a thin paste to be applied as designs on the body. It is an impermanent tattoo. We were escorted into her living room where we sat along the side on padded benches and were served mint tea. She passed around sheets of designs for us to chose from. Once we made the choice, she filled a syringe with a hollow needle with henna, applied the pattern on the palm of one hand and had us go dry it over a small charcoal brassier set up in the hall. It reminded me of decorating a cake. When it was dry enough she set the pattern with a mixture of lemon juice, garlic and sugar to form a scab like hard surface. We were advised not to wash that hand until morning. Fortunately most of us chose our left hand and had no problem. The finished designs were a rich dark brown. Still relaxed from the hammam, we slept well that night.
Hicham gave us a talk on the modern authors of Morocco on our way to the Dades Gorge next morning. It was difficult to write them down on the bus when we were unfamiliar with the names and their spelling so I asked him to write them down for me later. They are: Driss Chraibi Tahar Ben Jelloun Fatema El Nerniss Khenatta Benouna
Our first destination was the Gorge du Dades with cliff walls even higher than those in the Todra Gorge. The fields were broader and instead of date palms there were figs, walnuts, poplars and almonds. About half way up we stopped at a small hotel and changed from the bus to vans because the mountain road was too steep and narrow for the bus to maneuver. At one point we stopped to look down on shepherds and their flocks that live in caves at the bottom of the gorge. We walked part of the way through the narrowest part of the gorge along a rushing mountain stream with cliffs towering above us on both sides. Oleander bushes were growing on both sides of the stream and there were small birds. The river varied from green to deep blue and the cliffs were shades of tan. It was very beautiful and peaceful. The vans caught up with us and took us to a house built in the side of the cliff where we had a demonstration of how to make Berber pizza. You take a round of dough, put in a filling of spices and chopped onion, fold the dough over the filling and pat it until it is very thin. Then slide it onto the round metal plate sitting on the fire and bake it. We were served mint tea and then had a chance to taste the pizza which was delicious. Our hostess had laid out bowls of walnuts, regular white bread and three saucers for dipping. One had honey, another olive oil and the third argon oil. Argon oil comes only from Morocco. The tree is similar to an olive tree but the nuts are very hard to process. What they do is feed the fruit to goats. After the nuts pass through the goat and are defecated, they are collected, cracked open and the oil is pressed out of them. It is rich in several vitamins and in addition to being eaten the oil is used in cosmetics. It didn’t have much taste, reminding me of Wesson or canola oil. As we were driving back out of the gorge Hicham pointed out the luxury homes along the way. It is a favorite summer vacation destination and many Moroccans working abroad send back money to be invested in these houses. Europeans are also building vacation houses here since this is a popular destination for hiking, back packing and horse pack trips.
The road between Tinerhir and Ouarzazate is known as the road of 1000 kasbahs. There were houses all along the way. We passed through a town known for roses where rose water is sold and a short while later stopped at a mosque where the Imam and his brother were waiting for us. Along the way Hicham described the training and duties of an Imam. They go to university for their theological training and must pass examinations and be licensed. All are paid by the government ministry of Islamic affairs. Their function is to be religious leader as well as counselor in helping settle disputes. We were invited into the Imam’s home for a delicious luncheon of lentil soup, couscous and fruit with lots of good fresh Moroccan bread. The surprise following lunch was a traditional Muslim wedding. Bill and Phyllis were chosen to be bride and groom and the Imam’s wife came in with an arm full of appropriate costumes for the occasion. The groom wore a long white robe and a red turban. He also had a leather purse to carry important papers and a dagger in a case which was a gift of the bride. This symbolizes his role as provider and protector. Phyllis was decked out first in a loose fitting gown of gold color material covered with shiny, round discs. Over this was a white cloth wound around and pinned on the shoulders with special silver pins. Next came a heavy necklace of round, saffron color stones. On her head was first a gold head cloth, then a sheer red veil covering her face, a dark green cloth on top of her head held down with a red head tie with tassels and finally a string of coins dangling over her brow. The couple were questioned on the dowry, which the man gives his bride, and whether or not the marriage is agreed to freely by both parties. A written agreement is signed and then witnessed. We acted the part of the witnesses since we were sitting next to them. Finally the Imam signs the legal document and they are declared man and wife. The wedding celebration takes place over the next several days or weeks and traditionally the couple moves in with the grooms family. Polygamy and arranged marriages are becoming less common, though there must be agreement between families before marriages can take place. Hicham is scheduled to be married, god willing, next August. We ended the day at a rather plush resort built around courtyards and swimming pools in Ouarzazate, the movie capital of Morocco. There are five studios and such films as Lawrence of Arabia, King of Kings, Alexander have all been filmed there. The town was originally a French military outpost since it is the last oasis on the edge of the Sahara. There is still a military presence there. The only problem with our luxurious suite was that they only turned the heat on for a few hours in the evening and evidently our unit had a problem so it was cold. We watched BBC to catch up on world news and turned in early, grateful for warm blankets.
The drive from Ouarzazate to Marrakech was from the desert through the mountains to a valley between mountains. We started by going to the Citadel of Ait Benhaddou, and visiting an 11th century Kasbah. The word kasbah means home in Berber. The classic Kasbah we visited had a granary on the first floor, stables for animals in a courtyard outside, second floor living quarters for the family with a deck above and towers on top. We had to cross a stream on stepping stones to reach the kasbah and children were waiting to help us across (for tips of course). The family taking care of the old kasbah have built a new section where they live and we were served morning tea there. This time the tea was flavored with saffron. Hilary Clinton visited this town in 1999 and again last year and has set up a fund to buy books for the school children.
The scenery from there to Marrakech was mostly barren rock with herds of goats and sheep on the way up to the top of the 7000 ft. pass. There it changed dramatically to deep green forests and terraced farm plots as we literally wound our way down the serpentine road toward the broad valley where we passed orange groves on our way to Marrakech. It was a thrilling ride with awe inspiring scenery. That evening we had another complete surprise. We were finishing dinner in a rather elegant dining room when Guil Spencer III (John’s fist cousin once removed) came up to us. He is a consultant with OAT, handling their catalogues, publicity and the like and they encourage all of their staff and consultants to take some of the trips. He and the family (Susan, Ford, Kiernan) were taking an abbreviated tour of Morocco. Mohammed, our guide from Fez was their personal guide. It was small world time all over again.
Next morning we were introduced to Marrakech by horse drawn carriage. The streets are lined with fruit trees. A wide boulevard has formal gardens in the center. Our destination was the Mosque built in the 12th century which is the tallest building in the city . In fact, no building may be built higher. Most mosques have three balls on top to remind the faithful of the three most important pillars of Islam but this one has a fourth, very small ball at the very top because the wife of the ruler sinned during Ramadan by breaking her fast and to atone for it she had a small gold ball added to the top. The word Marrakech comes from a phrase meaning, “let’s sell our goods quickly and leave”. Like Fez, it was a crossroads for trade with desert caravans meeting European traders. At present there are 350,000 people living in the old walled city and several million more living outside. We visited various palaces built by rulers and their advisors, walked with Hicham through the crowded, noisy, confusing market, went down a small alley to see the Saadian Tombs and ended the morning in a Berber pharmacy where an energetic lady gave a pitch about the value of various herbs, spices, oils and unguents for everything from impotence to age spots. By then we were fading fast. A pizza lunch overlooking the vast square restored our spirits and an afternoon nap further revived us. Little did we know when we looked down on the square at noon that we would be back that evening to a very different scene. The square dates back to the 16th century and has always been a gathering place where travelers can find relaxation and amusement. The amusement now takes the form of snake charmers, African bands, story tellers and belly dancers. There wasn’t much action at noon, but by evening it was bustling. Almost 100 open air restaurants had been erected under electric lights selling everything from snails, to sheep’s heads to more familiar Moroccan foods. Hicham chose one he knew to be safe and good for our meal. We sat at long benches facing the display of food and were served a traditional Moroccan dinner of bread, soup, charcoal broiled lamb and chicken, pastries and hot coffee or tea. Carol and Judy made the mistake of trying to take a picture of one of the belly dancers on our way in and found themselves confronted by a very angry transvestite dressed as a belly dancer. During dinner we heard the evening call to prayer from a nearby Mosque; Moroccan families were eating near by and we felt very much a part of the family. It was noisy, crowded, smoky and real.
Our final day was more leisurely. We toured the Blue Garden which Yves Saint Laurent has restored; visited the Dar Si Said Museum, had luncheon in a beautiful restaurant, taking a short detour along the way to see the restaurant where an Alfred Hitchcock movie was made and spent the afternoon doing some last minute shopping. I asked Hicham if there was some place where we could find a variety of Moroccan handicrafts of good quality in one place and he took us to an Artisan’s cooperative where we probably paid a bit more, but found what we were looking for without the hassle of the twisting, winding alleys of the market.
The farewell dinner was memorable. We were driven to an alley which was lighted by candle lanterns. Passing through a heavy ornate door we were ushered into a courtyard with a fountain, palm tree and flowers. There we had cocktails and were serenaded by a lute player, playing classical Moroccan music. Then we were ushered up two flights to a small room with circular couches and round tables at both ends and a glowing fire in the fireplace in the middle. At each place were scrolls listing the menu, beautiful china dishes, linen cloths and napkins. Moroccan Salads: Cooked - Lamb brains, calf liver, meat turnovers, carrots with cinnamon, pickle zucchini, sweet tomato confites. Raw - grated carrots with orange juice, tomatoes with parsley, green and black olives. Crepes with pigeons. Tagine Makfoul (lamb with caramelized onion and tomatoes). Couscous with vegetables. B’silla with milk and almonds( a torte). Orange with cinnamon. Moroccan pastries. Plus red or white wine, tea or coffee and brandy. During dinner we were entertained first with a tastefully dressed, supple belly dancer and then by an African duo who played drums and cymbals and danced.
The trip was fun. The flight home was LONG.... and, as always, we're glad to be home.