Travel with Manfred

Travelogues from around the world

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Copyright © 2000 by Manfred P.. All rights reserved.

Aug 5 - 27, 2000

M&Ms

Mules and Mercedes in Morocco

by

Manfred P.

Keywords: Morocco, Fes, Meknes, Jebel Toubkal, Marrakesh, Casablanca, tourist, travel trip report, travel log, travelogue.

The plan was to meet at the airport in Casablanca. My brother came from Austria and my girl friend and I from Spain. The vacation started on a bad note. Our plane arriving in Casablanca had an hour of delay. That wasn't bad. What was a scary sign was that all 4 ATMs at the airport refused to work. All 4 ATMs came back with an error like "connection to your bank cannot be established". I had no penny with me, just my plastic card. Luckily my girlfriend had brought 10,000 Spanish Pesetas in cash. Exchanging part of that for Dirhams, the local currency, should get us over the first night. We three united at the airport and with the little cash we set off to the city center, looked for a hotel and then set out in the search for a working ATM. We went from bank to bank to discover, that most don't have an ATM, that some have a proprietary ATM only accepting cards of a certain bank, and that some simply were out of order. I was already quite nervous when finally we found one that spit out some brand new bills. I stacked up on cash to last for 2 weeks to avoid to be in the same miserable situation again.

Casablanca

Once we entered the Casablanca medina through the south gate we felt stepping into a different world. We moved away from the large boulevards, French city design and billboard advertising into a frenzy of shopping, mix of smells and narrow lanes where one couldn't see more than the next 20 meters. It was the first touch of the old Arabic world in Morocco. Meandering through the lanes we moved from tailors to fruit vendors and further to the north we ended up in the zone of the greasy mechanic, car, bicycle and machine repair shops. Oil was all over the street and side walks. Welding sparks flew through the air and grimy faces were smiling at us.

Having crossed the medina we reached Casa's most famous site. The Hassan II mosque. It is a political statement, it is a religious statement. It was built to impress, to show the world that Morocco has not lost on importance or its craftsmanship. This mosque is built on a fantastic scenic site right on the ocean, just one or two miles from the city center. It is impressive in dimensions; built in just a handful of years and handed over to Hassan II as a present for his 60th birthday in 1993. It is a modern giant. With 220 yards it has the largest minaret in the world and is the second largest mosque after Mecca. It is more than just a mosque, it a complex. It is grazed by a large open square, by buildings flanking the square and by walkways lined with dozens possibly even hundred columns. While the key elements of the mosque are all very nice in appearance, specifically the copper or brass doors and fountains are beautiful, the monument has not escaped the Morocco syndrome.

Morocco syndrome? The other buildings of the complex are like buildings in a Hollywood studio. The facade looks real and nice, but from the backside it is obvious the construction has never finished. The glass windows are missing and the walls are pure cement without paint or decoration. All these additional buildings which were planned for educational or community services, etc. are all - without exception - unusable. A glance through the front side windows shows that they are empty, without floor, rough concrete floor with garbage lying around. While the peripheral buildings haven't been finished in other place the complex is already starting to all apart. The fountains don't work anymore, one of the gigantic brass doors can't be closed anymore and the cement is falling off the ceiling of the walkways exposing the rusty iron beams below. Like in many other places all over Morocco (or other countries) the design, vision and plans are far greater than the funding to realize the dreams. So, the buildings never get fully completed and as there is no money for maintenance either, even they are modern buildings, they are falling apart already giving the impression they are various decades old.

We didn't while too long in Casa. Our plan was to make a clock-wise tour through Morocco visiting some of the royal cities, the desert and oases in the south, the coastal towns and beaches in the west and to return again to our starting point, Casablanca. We skipped Barat, a royal city and instead headed directly for the second royal city on our itinerary: Meknes.

Meknes

The medina of Meknes was already a step up from the medina in Casa. More authentic, more ancient looking, simply more interesting. We browsed through many shoe shops. Very famous and frequently used are slippers with a pointed tip, in yellow and white for men and more colorful for women. These pointy leather slippers are quite unique footwear. Just outside the medina is the food market. The typical fruits are: honey melon, sugar melon, water melon, oranges, and the fruits from cacti that also the native Indians in Arizona and New Mexico eat. In the markets further in the south near the oases one can also find figs, dates and yellow or green bananas. Standard vegetables are: potatoes, tomatoes, olives, bell pepper, cucumber, onion, garlic, carrots, and a white root which I am not sure what it is. Olives are usually sold in stores where the olives are piled up high, from green, brown to black and presented in various sauces from lemon to hot chili pepper.

With all the city walls we had lost a little bit the orientation and had to backtrack to find a gate through the city walls that would allow us to enter the medina again. We entered through the Bab el-Jedid Gate in the West and were a bit surprised. This was the grimiest part of the medina we had seen. It was close to sunset, the light was therefore dimmed, the air was foul, the street roads muddy, rotten food on the street, the shop walls filthy, flies buzzing around; in short it was not a very inviting place. It took another hour to walk to the North Gate and then back to the south entrance again.

At night all the people gathered on the city square Place el-Hedim. Most people spread out their wares on the ground. Shoes and slippers are the main items here. The street lights are dim, so the vendors bring along their own camping-gas lights. The square is filled with a mixture of exhaust fumes and smoke from the grills. Grilled sausages are the most popular fare. Heavy smoke blows from the barbeques and stimulates your appetite while at the same time making your eyes tear, at least if your eyes are as sensitive as mine.

A short 45 minute ride on bus and another 30 minute walk from Meknes are the principle remains of the Roman empire in Marocco. Significant parts of the village Volubilis have survived the centuries. Later kings have reused the marble of the roman palaces for their own. Still, the remaining ruins are impressive. The rich and famous of these days lived a comfortable life with swimming pools, decorated baths and public meeting places. They even built a marble Triumphal Arch (200 AD). Why? For a very down to earth reason, to honor the man who has given them tax cuts.

The closest village to Volubilis is Moulay Idriss, named after the saint and great-grandson of Prophet Mohammed with the same name. The village is situated in the hills, visible from far. The shrine of Moulay Idriss has the look from the outside like any mosque, with a green tile roof, a minaret with 3 golden balls on top, and wood carvings as decoration. Non-Muslims are not allowed to enter, neither here nor in any other mosques in the country. The village is a pilgrimage place and the mausoleum is surrounded by restaurants and bars. To the left and to the right rise two hills with the residential areas. The village is old and consequently the residential area on these two hills are formed by tiny narrow isles that wind their way through the houses in a rather uncoordinated way. As always the whole world wants to be your guide to show you around in this labyrinth. The want-to-be guides on our little exploration of the village started with an adult, then a kid, then a whole group of kids including an addicted glue-sniffing kid. Besides nice white painted houses, interesting wooden doors, interesting views, there is nothing extraordinary about Moulay Idriss. A small, calm village living of visiting pilgrims. The only thing unusual is that close to the top of one hill, close to the terraces overlooking the mausoleum is a round minaret. Traditionally all minarets in Morocco are square. Rumor has it that this is one of only two square minarets in the country. But that still does not make it interesting. It is a short minaret, plain without decoration, painted in white without any special flair about it. My personal highlight of the village was the tea we drank at the tiny local shop at the bus station. The owner was a very friendly guy. He didn't speak any French and we didn't speak any Arabic, so we got along real well. He had very good service. He put extra leaves of mint into the tea glass and when he saw that the tea was too hot, he brought an extra glass and gracefully poured the tea between the two glasses to cool it down.

Fes

You can get lost in these seemingly never-ending lanes. You can get lost in both, in your mind and in your orientation. The density of such medieval shops here is higher than anywhere else in Morocco, making Fes the most interesting medina of all. Here is where you really feel set back in time. Once you dive in, you don't leave for at least 4 hours. Time enough to forget today's world.

The medina is divided into various regions, each region dedicated to a specific product or product type. There is the spice section, the henna section, the copper and brass section, the section of music instruments, the leather wares, the clothing section, the slippers section, and so on. That keeps the competition high and the prices low. Like in any bazaar you have to haggle over the price. While there are well established prices for most goods such as slippers, these prices are not known to tourists. So, in this world without price tags bargaining is the game.

You can find anything here. There are little tea stalls to help you get over your thirst; fruits, vegetables, olives and more are sold on the street to overcome your hunger; and there are even a few restaurants hidden in this labyrinth. You will need to strengthen yourself occasionally if you want to walk and see most of the lanes. Walking here is quite a pleasant experience. There are no cars, mopeds or buses. That doesn't mean you are out of danger. If you don't watch out you might get overrun by an overloaded mule coming from behind. Mules wear horseshoes made our of old car tires. These black rubber "soles" prevent them from slipping on sometimes flat and smooth surfaces. Some of the lanes are even covered, providing comfortable shade below. Smells range from pleasant (spice, food), via unpleasant (leather tanneries) to gross. In the middle of the medina, behind the tanneries is a little river. It is crossed by a small bridge and the bridge has a hole. The purpose of the hole is to permit people to dump their trash into the river. With all the white, brown and red chemicals from the leather production dumped into it, and the regular garbage in plastic bags added it is a poor and scary sight.

After a day of strolling through these streets we enjoyed a relaxing evening dinner watching the people in the streets as the day winds down. People watching is one of the favorite pastimes here. This is easy to explain as there is not much else to do. While sipping the sweet mint tea we watched the Coca Cola distribution take place. A truck drives to the entrance gate of the medina. Here the Coke is transferred from the truck onto mules. Each mule is loaded with 5 boxes of Coke, two on each side on an iron frame and one in the center. Then the mule caravan starts its journey into the medina to deliver the bottles.

Beside Coke delivery, one can always discover strange and interesting faces. A glue or petrol sniffing person was hanging around close to the restaurant, an old man crooked, and strongly bending forward was rushing through the street with his walking stick; touts were selling cigarettes, one- by-one; waiters were trying to lure tourists into their restaurants; and a lot more. The early evening hours are the high season and the streets are boiling with life.

Besides the medina there is little else to see. The new part of town, designed by the French, is nothing out of the ordinary: Big boulevards with the usual names of Mohammed V and Hassan II, banks, hotels and shopping centers. Between the medina and the new town is the Jewish Quarter. It is also very lively and like a bazaar in the medina. The architecture is a bit different here and the houses, unlike in the Arabic style, have large windows facing the outside and balconies. North of the medina is an old fortress that now houses a museum. While it was closed for repair while we visited it has a gigantic canon outside. A bit further on are the ruins of another fortification from different rulers. Only a few walls are left from the ruins but from here there is a wonderful view in all directions. In front of you lies the medina, spreading for a square mile and most parts surrounded by walls. The walls are crumbling and inside the medina there is big wild mess of houses. None of the lanes can be seen from up here as they are all very narrow and windy. In a few spots large mosques stick out of the pile of houses. These mosques can only be seen from up here. Once in the jungle of the small lanes there is never any view as it is obstructed by houses that are built right against the mosques. Turning your head you can see how the city abruptly stops and hands over to the desert. Turning your head even some more you see the wide open space, light brown desert without any houses, just a road cutting through it and in the background some gentle desert and rocky hills.

Merzouga

The last hour or hour and a half from Rissani to Merzouga is on a dirt track. Only 4x4 and old rattled minibuses shuttle between these two cities. Merzouga is a little outpost, a village of maybe 100 houses or so. Here the desert starts. While the desert between Rissani and Merzouga is a rock desert, Merzouga lies at the foot of the first sand dunes that form the first portions of the Sahara. South and east of Merzouga is nothing, just sand, sand, and sand, until after many miles the first Algerian village appears.

The sand dunes are like an ocean. Dunes as far as the eye can see, like waves rolling to shore. Some of the dunes pile up to be 200 yards high. We got to the dunes in time to enjoy sun-set from the highest dune around. At least that was the plan. Getting there and climbing the dune takes time. Now shortly before 7 p.m. it was nice and warm. The hot hours have passed and it was pleasant. The sand was pleasantly warm too. Not too hot, not too cold. The sand was very fine and soft. Ideal to walk barefoot and to feel the warmth and the tingling massage of the sand corns. It was a 45 minutes up and down through the sand until we finally made it to the last slop leading to the top of the largest dune in the vicinity. It was steep and you had to crawl on all four to move higher. With every pair of steps forward you slid back half the distance in the rolling sand. When we were finally standing on the top we saw the sun disappear behind clouds close to the horizon. We knew that the sunset wouldn't be spectacular with the sun hidden this way.

We started walking back towards the hotel and within minutes it was dark. Dark not due to the sun setting, but dark due to sand clouds. A sandstorm had kicked in and within minutes it was dark and difficult to make out any distant objects. We had the rough direction of the hotel and kept walking. I had my eyes closed or partially closed to avoid getting sand into them. I pulled my cap as far down as possible, pushed my glasses as close to the eyes and used my hands as windshield to keep the sand away from my eyes. A rather uncomfortable situation for me. We walked and walked and eventually palm trees started to show up. By now it was pitch dark because the sun had set as well and the wind and sand storm has not let up. The palm tree formations didn't look familiar. We didn't exactly know where we were, but obviously closer to the village. Minutes later we heard some music in the darkness and first lights appeared. The music was likely to come from a hotel where they in the evening play traditional Berber music for the guests. Another 100 yards on we ended up in the backyard of a house. We spoke with on of the residents and he pointed us into the direction of our hotel. He even walked a while with us to show us the way. Stepping through the door into our Berber-castle looking hotel I was glad to be out of the sandstorm. A comfortable shower was the pleasant reward for this evening's expedition.

The wind howled for another hour and eventually it got calm and quiet again. We prepared our beds on the roof of the building where we slept under the open sky. I slept quite well while my comrades complained about some sand being whirled up during the night. The night ended at 5 a.m. and we repeated our evening experience. We headed for the same large sand dune to see the sunrise from there. We joined a group of a handful of people on the top who had the same idea. Sliding down the dunes was more fun than walking up.

Most people come here to do a camel safari. At 5 p.m. they set out on a 2- hour camel ride into the desert, where a large tent has been prepared. There the crew prepares and serves the food and people spend the night in the tent, to return the next morning at 9 a.m. to the starting point. All nicely offered as a package. Maybe we will do that; in 10 years when I am too lazy to walk. Camels today are pretty much exclusively used by tourists. As work animal is has been replaced by trucks and 4x4s. But it is still quite common to see them in certain regions of Morocco.

Afterward our early morning journey to the dune we waited on a street corner in Merzouga for a minibus to take us back to Rissani. We chatted with the local kids that besieged us. Most speak some French, a few words in Spanish, sometimes even a few words in German. My girlfriend asked them if they go to school and they explained to us that they are nomads and nomads don't go to school. My girlfriend continued with her questions and asked if they don't feel that learning and going to school is important. To this they answered "No, school is not important", and then the 8 year old continued with pride "My brother didn't go to school either and he works in Barcelona". Well. Not a lot of motivation here. But Morocco supposedly spends 27% of its budget on education. Hard to believe, especially since 60% of the people cannot read and write.

After spending more than half an hour with the kids finally a minibus appeared. It was full, so we took place on the top of the bus together we two locals. For an hour and a half we enjoyed the desert scenery from the top of the bus. Our asses were sore from the rough ride. After an hour it was difficult to find a comfortable position to sit in without falling off the bus. Meanwhile some 4x4s appeared behind us on the horizon, just to catch up with us, take some pictures and then leave us in their dust. As we reached town and the bus stopped, the police come to us and made an inquiry with my girlfriend. The usual: passport, name, where you are coming from, where you are going to, etc. Supposedly it is illegal to ride on top of a bus. While this might be so, I am sure this is not why he questioned her. Ever day dozens of people ride on top of buses and the police never says anything. I think they were only surprised and stunned that a woman rode on top of a bus.

I love the heat. 110F is not a terrible thing for me. But slowly the heat was getting to me. For days it was now so hot and dry that I started to have nose bleeds for no reason, just because my skin inside the nose was so dry that it broke open.

Tinerhir, Todra Gorge

While we were sitting outdoors for breakfast the first tourist cars appeared on the only road to, from and through the gorge. The first 200 yards of the gorge are the most impressive. Here, out of nowhere, the wide valley transforms suddenly into a narrow gorge. The rock walls were maybe 30 yards high and vertical. Here the gorge was about 10 yards wide and in the middle, taking up half of the width, was a stream. Now in the midst of summer the stream was shallow and easy to cross on foot or car. Further on, the valley widened to 40 yards and here they had built a hotel right along the foot of the northern still vertical wall. Still further on, the gorge with its steep walls transforms into a regular V-shaped valley. The sun was burning down and there was no shade to be found. We followed the valley on foot for an hour and a half. The scenery remains constant. A desert valley with brown and red rock formations. The dirt road switches various times from the left to the right side of the river and vice versa. Once every half hour one of the typical Berber trucks, old red Bedford 4x4 trucks, drover by. Even more frequently passed the large 4x4 cars, usually with French license plates.

The nearest village to the north is about 4 to 5 hours walking distance. Our intention was not to make it that far. We just wanted to explore the nearby scenery. After 3 or 4 hours of walking we returned to the gorge entrance. Little kids were now bathing in the 10 inch deep river stream and half a dozen 4x4s were parked in the riverbed. It was getting crowded. Time to leave.

The road back to Tinerhir follows the river. The valley widens into a fertile oasis and close to the river the colors turned from a desert brow into a tropical green. In Tinerhir we looked for a hotel in the town center. Tinerhir was like many other places. Dry, dusty and dirty. The standard colors were brown and gray. There were no indicators of anything special. Just 15 minutes walking from the center was a little hill. It was barely 50 yards high. What a remarkable change of views from up here. While 50 yards down in the city square everything looked normal, i.e. dry, dusty, brown and gray, up here on the hill top the view opened into the fantastic oasis of green palm trees, vegetable plantations, and lush wet gardens. The contrasts were amazing. I had never seen anything like it. Everything as far as the eye could see was gloomy rock and sand desert. In the middle of the desert was the town of Tinerhir with its brown non-descriptive houses that blend into the desert. On one side of the town is all of a sudden this green oasis with its contrasting colors, creating contrasting emotions of cool air and wet soil, a place full of plant and bird life. The area of the oasis was big and interestingly it had a sharp border. Like drawn by a ruler, on one side green and wet, on the other side brown and dry; with absolutely no transition in between.

The next day we started a day tour into this oasis. The river was used to irrigate a wide area. Corn, vegetables, figs, and grapes grew here. In the shade it was pleasantly cool. On the other side of the oasis is a kasbah. A "kasbah" is a traditional fortress, a living space for people and animals with fortified outer walls. Kasbahs were build 100 to 200 years ago and are made of clay and adobe. Today nearly all kasbahs are deserted and form little ghost towns. To me they are like buildings from the movie as I had never seen one before except for movies. Specifically they remind me of French Foreign Legion movies, where the French foreign legion soldiers either defend or attack one of these orange brown mud kasbahs. We entered some of the buildings here. They are 3 to 4 floors tall and the ceilings made of clay and wooden beams. The windows are tiny so that the building could be defended easily and to keep the inside shady and cool. We found the rooms completely empty, at best with some garbage. They have fallen victims to time.

Some 2 miles west of the town center is a very large area for the market. There are two types of market days here; the general market day and the animal market day. We visited the animal market. Farmers had come with their trucks to sell, buy or trade cows, bulls, goats and sheep. As you can image, the scenery is a lot of men standing around looking, talking, smoking; animals making noises and stepping into their own shit. I was curious and asked one of the younger locals who also spoke a few words English how much a cow is. He told me that cows sell for $1,000. I was amazed. This is a lot of money for a Moroccan; certainly many-months salary or income.

Boulmalne, Dades Gorge

More scenic views can be had in the side arms of the river. These side arms are all dry in summer and form great trails for exploration. The side arms are littered with thousands of nicely polished round rocks, bathing tub shaped pits, and in a few cases water filled whole with green stale water. The valleys get as narrow as a couple of yards and never seem to end. These dry valleys are certainly long enough for many hours of hiking. They might appear void of life, but they aren't. In one spot we got scared as suddenly dozens of birds took flight. We also encountered a black scorpion in the trail.

The next day we left the gorges and walked towards the oasis in the wide valley. It was full of fig trees and women were collecting and spreading them on rocks to dry them. We picked them off the trees as well and enjoyed them as a free second breakfast. The river bed was quite lively. Women did the laundry, kids were playing, others were shaking nuts of the nut trees. It was the typical oasis scenery. Strangely from the distance these places always seem void of humans and when you get close you are surprised by how many people you can find. They are under the trees relaxing in the shade, in the trees collecting fruits, behind a rock, etc.

We were looking for and intending to walk towards a specific Kasbah that we have seen in the distance. But it disappeared behind the branches and then cliffs and water channels forced us to slightly change our direction. The next time we saw the Kasbah again, we were far away. We had missed it, but not to worry. The valley of the Dades between Dades Gorge and Boulmalne is littered with Kasbahs.

We followed the river for a while, but it is slow advancing in this cross- country style. To advance faster we went back to the street, walked for a while and caught the first minibus that came by. After a few miles we got off the bus again as more Kasbahs showed up on the horizon. Here we crossed the valley which was wide a nearly flat. Again we stumbled across people in the oasis. The scarf-wearing women giggled as they saw me. It is not the first time that this happens as people think that my desert attire is funny. I am using a thin cloth to cover my neck and the sides of my face, i.e. the ears and hold the cloth in place by putting it under my baseball cap. This way I have a sun-shield and the intense heat doesn't burn my neck. Furthermore with the neck in the shade it is actually cooler. Because of this improvised turban-scarf-thing people give my strange looks.

On the other side of the valley we inspected the kasbahs. Nothing to spectacular. While resting and hiding from the sun under a tree, we tried the language section of our guide book to talk to the kids. We tried words in Arabic and Berber, but our pronunciation was so bad that they didn't understand anything. Understanding or not wasn't really important. We had our laughs trying and failing to say simple things.

Skoura

It was market day in Skoura. They brought in animals and vegetables and at 8 a.m. the whole village was moving towards to market square. There are no sights in Skoura but the map shows some kasbahs nearby. While walking towards the first kasbah we stopped at a bar for a drink. The owner told us that there is nothing to see and that we shouldn't bother to go there. We went anyway. We followed the dirt track for an hour until we got to a dry river bed, continuously meeting people that went the other direction toward the market. Once at the dry river bed we had reached our destination: Ait Souss. Ait Souss is not only a single kasbah but three. The first one was surrounded by a few houses that are in use by a handful of families. We entered the kasbah. It was the traditional mud and adobe construction with wooden beams forming the ceilings. In the mud walls various patterns were engraved. In the center of the kasbah was the courtyards where all the sun entered. The windows on the outer walls were tiny. The kasbah is in acceptable shape. We went up into the first floor and then even onto the second floor. Some of the ceiling had already collapsed. It gave a good example of how people lived.

We crossed the dry river bed and looked at the outside of the second kasbah. This was still in use by a family and a kid was standing in the doorframe. The third kasbah was half a mile away and it didn't seem necessary to see all of them.

Having seen the surroundings to the north east of the village, we returned to the village center to explore the north west. We started walking along the main road or close to the main road. We found many deep holes; maybe 10 yards deep and 2 yards wide. All were man, i.e. hand-made. Someone had gone through a lot of work. Some of the wholes where in groups very close to each other. Still today I have no clue what they are fore and why they were made. The only thought coming to my mind is water wells. But why would one dig several water wells close to each other? The holes are and remain a mystery to me. We walked by a mausoleum of a holy man and eventually found the Kasbah ben Moro, another famous kasbah. Kasbah ben Moro had been fully restored and is modernized. It has been converted into a hotel with restaurant and souvenir shop. We entered the building complex to look for the bar to drink a cup of coffee or tea. While strolling around a manager went towards us and told us in a not-so-friendly manner to get out and that this is not for tourists. We told him that the sign read "restaurant" and if a restaurant isn't a public place where people go to drink something. He responded, "Ah, you want to consume something." "We have changed our mind. We have seen enough of the service," and walked out.

My girlfriend believed that there is some other kasbah nearby based on discussions we had with other people on the way. We thought we should have a closer look. We walked cross-country-style through the desert and a plantation. Eventually we found another dry river bed, I guess it was the same river bed that we have seen in Ait Souss. Directly along the river bed was a large and pretty well preserved kasbah. Most likely it was kasbah Amerdihl, but there is no way to know for sure. It was closed. Some tourists with a guide that had arrived on 4x4 entered through a small wooden door. We wanted to follow them but when we got to the door it was locked again already. Not to worry though. The walls had some small holes and slipped in through one of them. A lot of buildings inside this complex had collapsed already but many walls were still standing. On the backside was a canal with flowing water. We walked around a bit and slipped out again the same way we came. In the nearby oasis we rested for a while. We were getting thirsty and hadn't brought any water. To stay cool and to keep our thirst under control, we soaked most of our clothing in the irrigation water. From the cap, the scarf, down to the T-shirt. The evaporating water in the clothing instantly cooled. It works real well. All wet and cool we headed back to the village and the people on the way all greeted as friendly.

Ouarzazate

Ouarzazate also has a small old-town with a kasbah that was restored by the UN for being a cultural heritage. We entered the kasbah and visited the labyrinth of rooms. There are most likely 100 rooms, many small and only reachable through corridors that are 5 and a half foot high. The majority of rooms were bare, just 4 white walls. In one room we found a sleeping cat and a handful of larger rooms had the ceiling painted and decorated with carved wood.

Across the street from the kasbah is a film studio and we paid the guard a bit of money to let us in and show us around. From roman temples and palaces, to old Asian fortresses, Egyptian statues, small market squares from 1001 nights to boats and galleons. Everything could be found here, and everything was made of wood and painted carton. I was surprised to hear that the studio is still very active, that they had finished shooting a movie two weeks ago and that they start the next in a week. Most productions are French, African or Middle Eastern.

But that was not all, a few kilometers outside from Ouarzazate in the desert is a second film studio, easy to see from the main road. Laurence from Arabia and similar films have been short here or in places nearby.

With two Canadians we rented a taxi to make a half-day trip to Ait Benhaddou and Tifoultoute. Ait Benhaddou might be the best known kasbah in all of Morocco. It is very large and well preserved and has a more or less beautiful scenery around it. It is situated on a little hill and there are no new building nearby that would destroy the visual impression. It might consist of a 100 buildings and as you can guess by now, next to a dry river bed. It is surrounded by a town wall and on the foot of the hill it has an entrance gate. Behind the wall the buildings climbed all the way to the hill top. Most of the restored walls and faces of buildings are the once that face the entrance gate. From there the impression is that all the village is in good shape. Looking from the hilltop down the impression is quite different. From here the collapsing roof tops, etc. are visible. Some of the buildings are still in use and a few families live here. On one of the stairs we met an artist that painted pictures by burning black lines onto cardboard with a magnifying glass.

Ait Benhaddou was used in countless films. And it is cycle. Every film restores some more buildings for certain new shots, so the village gets more restored; and thereby it is more likely to be used in another film. While we were there they were building a new wooden arch and new fortified walls for an upcoming movie. These wooden parts that are only fake constructions will eventually be removed again when the movie is completed. I am not sure if it is true, but it was said that tiny parts or a few scenes of the recent movie "Gladiator" was shot here. Maybe they took some pictures to use them later in the computer generated graphics. All in all Ait Benhaddou was quite impressive and worth the trip.

Not worth the trip was Tifoultoute which is another kasbah turned into a hotel. We didn't even pay the entrance fee. We had seen enough kasbahs by now and started to get tired of them.

Zagora and Draa Valley

After following the oasis along the river for hours the bus arrived in Zagora. The road and the bus continue further until they end at a place called M'Hamid near the Algerian border. We stopped in Zagora anyway. Zagora is a small village most likely best known for its sign "Tombouctou 52 jours" or "52 Days to Timbuktu". From here in the old days the camel caravans started crossing the Sahara desert and reaching Timbuktu after 52 days of strenuous journey. Today there are no more camel treks across the Sahara and Timbuktu is reached by 4x4. Still, Zagora has the camel trek flair, camels are grazing in the oasis and near the river beds, many houses have their camels (in reality they are dromedaries) parked outside their houses like cars. In this town camels are still used on a daily basis. On one hand they provide transportation services like pick-up trucks and donkeys in other places, on the other hand camel rides are on the offering list of every travel and tourist agency in town. In addition, every time you take a photo of a camel the owner will ask you for money.

The oasis here is large and covers a very large area. Most of it is used for date plantations. Brown mud walls separate the plantations of different owners. Within the plantations are the typical small irrigation channels. We climbed a little hill near the end of the town. From this bird's perspective we could see the spectacular length and size of the oasis and how it was surrounded by a never-ending desert. Again the contrast between lifeless desert and lush greenery was drastic.

We also had luck to be in Zagora during its market day. It was one of the best if not the best we have seen. The market offered about everything, mountains of olives in various decorations and sauces, pottery, plant weavings, the traditional Moroccan fruits and vegetables, water buckets made from old car tires, live animals from cows to sheep and goats, rare things like human teeth, and other type of items that can only be described as "strange stuff". Another unique offering in this market are the dates. I have never seen so many dates in my life. Truck load full of dates. People selling them in sacks of 200 pounds. These fruits of the Draa valley come in all levels of quality. At the bottom are the rather dry dates that are sold as camel food. At the other end of the scale are the selected exquisite dates for delicatessen shops. And the prices vary accordingly. Normal dates for human consumption and those for delicatessen shops already have a price difference of a factor 10, 1000 percent.

Taroudannt

Agadir

Arriving in Agadir we headed directly for the main sight, the beach. My breath was taken away. But not by the beauty of the beach, but by the masses of people on the beach. The beach was alright, long, flat and sandy with the water warm. It was hard though to see the beach with all the people. On top of that they had put hundreds of flags from the tourist organizations and travel agencies on the beach. So, "Neckermann," and "TUI" were waving in the wind. I got the impression that half the people were foreigners and looking at name of the hotels, bars, etc. it was clear that French, Germans and British were on the top of the list.

We spent 15 minutes on the beach to look around, then headed back into town to catch the first bus north.

Essaouira

It was high season. The town was overrun with local tourists coming from Casablanca or Rabat. It was so overrun that we had a hard time finding a hotel. All the regular hotels were booked and we started listening to people on the street that approached us with words like, "I have a friend, he lives nearby and he rents a room." We looked at some of these rooms but most where without windows or right next to the kitchen of the family. After literally hours of wandering the streets looking for a place to stay we eventually found a space on a roof terrace on the fifth floor. Here we were as high up us the minaret and with a the best view of town.

The air was fresh, a cool breeze from the sea, with a salty taste and in comparison to the desert nights nearly cold. We had to look for our sweaters. The narrow streets in the town center were beautiful; a pleasure to walk around in them. The former Portuguese presence is noticeable in many places, such as arches, churches, and more. But overall it is still Islamic. The town definitely has a charming touch to it. We watch, jointly with hundreds of Moroccans the sunset from the fortified walls on the coast. The sun set behind clouds or haze hovering over the horizon. Locals were playing the drums for a sound background.

Essaouira is also a good place to shop. Above all they sell wood-based products like small wooden jewelry boxes, wood carvings, wooden desk accessories, up to large items like tables and chairs. Most of the work is done in thuya wood, a dark type of wood unknown outside of Morocco. The thuya wood has strong patterns and appears like the wood of roots. This makes it precious and a much wanted item. There are hundreds of these wood stores in town and it is not possible to find a street without these venders.

The beach lies south of the city center and the fishing harbor. It is a couple of miles long, flat and of light brown sand. The beach was crowded but at least not jam packed. Further away from the town it got better. The sand was nice and the water cooler than I expected. We went for a swim and played a bit with the waves. The beach, however, also had its ugly side. Tens of camels were on the beach and their owners offered 1-hour camel rides for $10. The result of this business is that camel shit is floating in the water in many places. Not a very inviting picture.

The choice for dinner was easy: fish. At the town square which is right on the ocean, they have created ad-hoc outdoor restaurants by putting up benches and tables. About a dozen of these food-stand-like restaurants were located right next to each other. Each one had the fresh fish on a table on display. You select the fish and crabs you want and then they grill and boil the food that you have selected more or less in front of your eyes. This way you know exactly what you are getting and they have many different fish to chose from.

Marrakesh

Marrakesh is a big city with more than 1.5 million inhabitants. It does not have a strong separation between the modern French-designed town and old part of town. The old part of town is gigantic. It starts at the Place Djemaa el-Fna and stretches north. It slowly fades from a medieval medina to the regular city. One can walk for hours without leaving this zone.

The medina from Marrakesh differs significantly from the medina in Fes in that the medina here is more a selling and distribution center, but less the place where they produce the goods. Some goods are made here such as clothing or the coloring of clothing. We also saw the craftsmen produce wooden goods like scoops, salad forks and cutlery.

South of Place Djemaa el-Fna are the various royal sights. El-Badi is the left over of an old royal palace. It is in ruins, only a few walls remain. The palace was destroyed by successive kings and the valuable materials reused in palaces in other places. One of the few places worth visiting were the Saadian Tombs. The were discovered only this century, 1917 to be exact, by the French as they studied aerial photos. The "palace" housing the tombs was sealed off for 400 years. Even today there is only a narrow and crooked entrance hallway that leads to the open area with a handful of highly decorated tomb buildings.

Another place worth visiting is the Palais de la Bahia, a palace reminding me of the Alhambra in Granada. It is a palace that has herb gardens, regular gardens, water fountains and a touch of nature designed into the palace. The palace consists of uncountable rooms, but all empty and without furniture. The only decoration that has survived are the painted ceilings of some rooms.

In the midst of all, forming the center of the night life and the center of the old town is Place Djemaa el-Fna. It is the famed place that for centuries was the heart of everything. During daytime, due the intense heat, it is a wide open place with relatively little activity. It has a few vendors, but spread over the 150 by 100 yard square they were hardly noticeable. In addition a few fortune tellers try their luck with tourists here, and the majority of the few people on the square are circling the two or three snake charmers. The snake charmers have a whole range of different snakes that they use in their show. They throw a group of a dozen small snakes on the floor. Some of them are so lethargic that they don't move at out. Others try to escape but are held back by the helpers who use metal sticks to push or throw them back into the center. Then they add a couple of bigger ones and add them to the jumble of snakes. As the ultimate, the crown in their show, they have a black cobra or similar in a basket and let it stick their head or upper body out.

At sun-set the Djemaa el-Fna Square changes. Out come the orange juice vendors, hundreds of food stalls, various groups of musicians, the story tellers, many more fortune tellers and crowds of people to enjoy the offering. The real show begins. The food vendors cover the central region of the square and are lined up in low rows. The orange juice vendors surround them in a semi circle. Towards to passing main street are the musicians and story tellers.

The food stalls are grouped by the food they offer. The first row is for the food stalls that sell soup. Interestingly soup is eaten with sweets. Then follow the food stalls with French fries and fish; thereafter jointly together the food stalls that sell lamb. These food stalls have lamb head on display that rather killed my appetite. On the side is the row of snail vendors. Most of the food is grilled and smoke raises from each one of these one hundred food stalls. The result is that the air is choked full of smoke and the smoke raises to the sky like at a site from an infernal fire. The smoke can be seen from hundreds of yards of distance. In addition we could smell it from out hotel which was a hundred yards away.

The musicians we playing on their traditional instruments in groups of 5 people and were dancing with the heads swinging back and forth rhythmically making the tassel of their hat rotate steadily. The story tellers were sitting in the floor with some butane light telling their tales. But the tales were not only told with words but also with facial expressions and gestures. The captivated audience was quietly sitting in a dense circle around the story teller, usually an older man with beard.

With all these activities the square for centuries was the center of night life and it still is. The square is jam-packed, full of people just strolling around enjoying the sights, or people food-stall hopping, and listening to ancient tales. This place certainly has changed over the centuries, but the basic ingredients surely have been the same 100s of years ago. Food, dance, music, and stories.

Toubkal Region: Asni, Imlil, Aroumd and Sidi Chamharouch

In Imlil ends the dirt road and the mule trails begin. Imlil is a small village, maybe a hundred houses. Only recently, a couple of years back, they received electricity and telephones. Even today there is only one public telephone in the village. Electricity is also making only small progress. Have of the houses and shops do not have electricity and after nightfall they light a candle. But exactly that makes the charm of Imlil. From here many mule trails lead in all sorts of different directions. There are treks for everyone, from 1 day to a full week. All can be arranged here, mules, guides, and camping equipment. Our plan was a lot simpler, without mules, without guides and equipment. Our plan was a quick ascent of the peak in 2 days with a night in the mountain hut.

We left Imlil in darkness at 5 a.m. After half hour we passed the village of Aroumd which is situated on a hillside. Shortly thereafter we crossed the dry riverbed and slowly started the ascent into the valley. Two hours on we reached a group of houses called Sidi Chamharouch. People here live at the place where in the winter is the snow line. They live without electricity, without phone, without running water in a rather remote place. Basic source of income today are tourists on their treks. Every house is selling Coke and other sodas. We stopped for morning tea. From there it was another 3 or 4 hours until we reached the Toubkal Hut at an altitude of 10,519 ft (3,207m). The hut was erected in 1938 is quite large, visible from the last mile. Nearly all the trail from Imlil to the mountain refuge is a rock desert. The only exception is the place of the Toubkal Hut. Here the water of the creek has been used to form a small meadow with some plants and a small area with grass. We did a small afternoon excursion to explore the vicinity of the hut.

On the following morning we left again at 5 a.m. to head up to the peak. The rock desert continued. Brown and black rocks as far as the eye could see. When we reached the peak of Jebel Toubkal at 13,667 ft (4,167m), highest point of Morocco, we were freezing. All neighboring mountain peaks were of similar shape. A rock desert. I was freezing and just wanted to get down. Easier said than done. On the way down we were not walking but sliding. The trail was steep and of loose gravel. I was slipping and sliding. I even ended up on my ass once and cut my hand slightly while trying to slow my fall. It was uncomfortable getting down. I was glad when we reached the hut again and thereby left the bad part of the trail behind us. In the hut we went to bed to get warm and get some rest. Getting up twice at 5 a.m. and sleeping little in the cabin got to me. Resting another 2 hours in bed was great.

The way down from the hut was uneventful. The trail gently winds its way down staying close to the river. We got to Imlil early enough to relax and enjoy the village.

El-Jadida and Azemmour

Like Essaouira the beach was overrun with local tourists. But unlike Essaouira it was cleaner and a lot longer. The beach stretches for many miles, too many actually to walk them all. A couple of miles outside of town lies a ship wreck just 100 yards off the coast. It once was a big fishing ship, or maybe another big merchant ship; today it is nothing but a skeleton of brown rusty iron. The salt water and the waves are eating away at the ship. It has holes like a Swiss cheese and through them you can see from one side to the other. When there are misty clouds over the sea, it looks mysterious and like a tale from a adventure book.

Along this stretch of coast, there is something special. Something that stirs the imagination. It is not only the run aground ship, but also the color combination of the scenery. On the left side was the ocean, dark blue with some white waves dotting the blue. The sand beach is so flat that the water is less than an inch deep. With the water so shallow and flat, it turns into a mirror and reflects anything from the sinking sun to lone fishermen. Straight ahead was the sand. Clean, light brown and pretty much void of people. To the right started the long line of light green. They had planted bushes and other small plants for miles and they formed an uninterrupted strip of wet green. This strip was decorated with some palm trees that, because of their size, jutted out. Also their green was darker. A striking contrast to the two colors of green were the red Moroccan flag that adorned flagpoles every few hundred meters. And at last, blue again, as the color of the sky. From left to right that made a color spectrum of ocean blue and white, sand brown, green, flag red and sky blue.

For those with unlimited time on their hand, they could continue walking past the ship wreck, past a holiday complex from Club Med and eventually end up in the village Azemmour. We took the easy route and caught a taxi. Azemmour is situated on the ocean delta of one of the largest rivers of Morocco. The river is crossed by two or three tall bridges and the ocean is a handful of miles away from the village. Both the sandy river bed and the ocean form a beach. At the delta are, again, two shipwrecks. Slowly these iron giants are rusting away and in several decades time they might even decompose completely and disappear. Recycling the natural way. The Portuguese ruins near the market square are not very spectacular. The street from the market square to the mosque on the hill was jam packed with vendors of all sorts and an even higher number of buyers. We used the opportunity for shopping for some Turkish delights and other sweets. Not having shaved once during the vacation I went to a barber to get a clean look. A bit scary when they put the shaving knife to your throat. But they are professionals.

Our last vacation day had come. We took it very easy. Without stress we caught an early bus to Casablanca, took a taxi to the center of town, had our last traditional Moroccan lunch in a small restaurant, hopped on a train to the airport and being early waited an hour in the airport for our departing flight. This last hour gave us an opportunity to slowly re-adjust to a western-style first world: mobile phones, fixed prices without haggling, suits and ties, alcohol, women with medium-short skirts and without scarf, air conditioning, and more.

People

Separation of the sexes in public is quite common. On town squares you frequently find that the women get together and sit down on one side, while the men sit down on the other. The women prefer socializing with the women, and the men with the men. Holding hands or kissing in public is discouraged and basically not seen. The separation of course continues in public places like baths where women can enter Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and men Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. What was strange to me is that women are not allowed in bars. Some bars or restaurants have two floors, the floor at street level exclusively for men and the floor upstairs for both men and women and families.

Given the economic situation, it is not surprising to see many beggars. Kids will ask for anything. The traditional greeting is "one Disham, one Dollar", i.e. the first words they say when they see you is to ask for money. But they sometimes ask for your cap, your shoes, your T-shirt and if that doesn't work they will suggest a trade. Your shoes for a small hand-crafted mirror, for example. The continuous begging or touting of products can be a nuisance, but it is not so bad.

In general they are quite friendly. They are helpful and have no terribly bad intentions. That does not mean that they will not try to sell you their goods a 1,000% over the regular price if you are willing to pay it. For about anything you will have to agree on a price before you accept any good or service. It is a safe place and I didn't see any crime.

On one occasion we flagged down a taxi driver to hitch a ride to the nearby town. The taxi driver replied that he would like to take us, but that it is close to his lunch hour. He continued asking if we would mind waiting or if we would like to join him for lunch in his house. Having heard his invitation it wasn't quite clear to us what we should reply. We needed to think for a couple of minutes. On the one hand it was a kind offer, and a unique opportunity to see a house of a regular Moroccan and to chat for a while in a setting of a private home. This is something that is usually off-limits to foreigners. On the other hand if the food or drinks offered are not so hygienic and have to be rejected that could be an insult to the host. Finally we decided to accept. He lead us to his house, just 50 meters from where we had stopped his taxi.

We entered his house through a small door. I had to bow not to hit my head in the entrance. It was a typical adobe house is mud colors and with hardly no windows on the outside. First we entered into a courtyard. All was made of mud and in the same brown color. The courtyard was all empty and very clean. No garbage, nothing. The only exception was the 40-inch satellite dish that was standing in the yard right next to the door into the house. From the yard we went into the house. To the left where the private quarters and the kitchen; to the right the living and dinning room. It was one large room, nice and cool. On the inside everything was shady and only a bit of light entering from the outside. Various carpets where lying on the floor. There were only very few furniture, 2 items to be exact. A small round table of maybe 10 inch height and a small shelf at the other end of the room that held the TV set. We were introduced to the family: the sister of the taxi driver was a beautiful Berber woman, the aunt, and 2 kids which where niece and nephew. The TV was on and showing some soap opera from Mexico in Arabic. With the satellite TV they can receive about 100 channels and I got the feeling that the TV is on all-day-long.

We took the shoes off and sat down on the carpets on the floor. The taxi driver offered us tea and his sister went off into the kitchen to prepare it. When she came back we went through the traditional tea ceremony and enjoyed a couple of cups of sweet mint tea. While sipping the tea the sister was preparing the meal. Having said three times that we are not hungry didn't help, we were served food. Tajine was prepared and the ceramic pot with the tajine was placed on the table. Together with the host we started eating the vegetable stew and home-made flat bread. It was good. As we came close to finishing the vegetables we uncovered the mid-sized junk of meat that was in the center of the pot. The host used his fingers to tear it into various pieces and pushed the pieces towards our side in the pot. The best parts were reserved for the guests. After the meal, melon slices were served as dessert.

The aunt and sister had not participated in the meal as they had eaten before. Now they joined us and we started talking a bit about this and that. About our jobs, where we are from, what we have seen already in Morocco, what we liked, what we didn't like, etc. But we also spoke about them, their marital status, why they are still single, the TV programs, etc. After having certainly spent more than an hour in the living room when it was time for him to return to work we were given a tour of part of the house. The court yard also connect to their animal barn where they had some goats and chicken. The wall in the back was shared with the crumbling 100-year old kasbah that was on the other side. A third door in the court yard lead to the bakery we were show the fireplace and the clay oven where the cab driver's sister makes the bread on a daily basis, including the bread we had eaten for lunch. We were amazed by the contrast. Here inside the home, including animal barn and bakery everything was so clean. Outside in the public spaces the trash is littering the streets, waste baskets don't exist, and everything is dirty.

Also part of live form police bribes. Once our shared taxi was stopped by the police. The taxi driver got out of the car and returned in a minute and we continued. Returning back so quickly made the action suspicious. We suspected that he had to pay a bribe to the cops. We asked him if he paid the cops. He replies, "Yes". Then he explained to us that the regular bribe is 20 cents. Given that the fare for the ride is about $10, that is not so much. He also added that this happens very frequently. We had seen similar situations before with buses where our bus was stopped by police and it seemed that money changed hands. In another conversation with people we met on a bus, we were told that when the government gives a public contract for building a park or a hospital, about half of the money of the contract illegally ends up in the hands of a few individuals. The country has some time to go before reaching full democracy and a fair business environment.

Another thing I have realized about Moroccans is that many of them have difficulties calculating and that you can frequently find people that can't add 2 or 3 numbers. Buying 2 postcards and 2 stamps is a real mathematical challenge for these people. They have to get out pen, paper and calculator. Even something simple as paying for 3 teas is difficult. The waiter is used that people pay for one or two teas; so they know that 1 tea is 4 Dirham and 2 teas are 8 Dirham, but it is rare that someone pays 3 teas so they do not know the price of three teas by heart. They have to calculate the price of 3 teas and, as it happened to us, according to their calculation the price of 3 teas is 14 Dirham. We were a bit surprise, because 14 Dirham is expensive. So we asked again. Also since 14 cannot be divided by 3 easily, we thought something is wrong. Surely one tea is not 4.66 Dirham. We asked for the price of one to get the answer "4 Dirham". We paid him 3 times 4 Dirham and the waiter was happy.

Also if something costs 5.50 Dirham and you give them 10.50 to ease the change to a single 5 Dirham coin, they are all very confused; they give you the 0.50 Dirham back and then they give you 4.50 more, in 5 additional coins.

Culture

The languages used in Morocco are Arabic, which is the official language, various Berber dialects and French. In a few places some people also speak a bit of Spanish or English. But it is rare to find people speaking one of these two languages. Not speaking and Arabic or Berber, we spoke French all the time.

Without wanting to generalize, Berbers and Arabs don't like each other. Having a different culture background, a different life style and a different language makes them very distinct. Berbers were nomads and tribesmen in history. They lived in small clans and moved frequently with their desert tents. Arabs were more sedentary and more into manufacturing of goods. Berber are less patriotic than Arabs. Berbers feel less like Moroccans, they feel like "Berbers". They might even be insulted if you tell them they are Moroccan. Some Berbers certainly wouldn't mind to have a their own country, a Berber-state. Berbers primary live in the south, from the Algerian border to Marrakesh, where they used to live in the desert for centuries. Arabs live in the north. Arab and Berber women are usually easy to distinguish. Berber women do not cover up the their faces. They just cover their hair, and usually just the top of the hair while the Arab women cover either everything including parts of their face or at least all of their hair.

An architectural difference between Morocco and other Arabic countries is that in Morocco virtually all minarets are square. The guide book says that there are 2 minarets in the whole country that are round.

A tradition that we also imitated is to sleep on the roof terraces. Often it is simply too hot to sleep inside the house. Since houses have no gardens, the only option to sleep in slightly cooler temperatures is to sleep on the terrace. This is also possible in many hotels. Sometimes you have to pay for a room and then you are allowed to sleep on the terrace, sometimes it is sufficient to just rent a space on the roof for $2 instead of paying the more expensive hotel room.

By normal standards, Morocco is a very patriotic country. Red flags with the green star are everywhere. Along the highways, in city squares, on government buildings, in roundabouts, at gas stations, at restaurants, in bars, on private houses. But they don't just put one flag in front of the house, more like 10. Furthermore in literally every store, bar, restaurant or hotel you will find a picture of the king. The king is not only the political leader but also the religious leader as he is a distance descendent of the prophet Mohammed. The king has the highest rank and the ultimate decision power in politics and religion. Unlike in other countries where the king is more a figure of limited political influence and not involved in daily political decisions, in Morocco the king is the political leader and runs the government.

Given this power, the kings are or were dominant persons. Regular citizens are shy when it comes to talking about the king. It is a taboo topic. Foreigners are also advised not to criticize the king. The nearly unlimited power of the kings is reflected by the fact that all villages and cities have their largest two boulevards and streets named after the previous 2 kings, Mohammed V and Hassan II. Mohammed V's are always the main boulevards, like "Broadway" or "Main Street" in the US. For example, if your hotel is on Hassan II, it will be easy to find and anyone will know where the street is. You can also rest assured that it will be on the largest street in town.

The Life Circle of a Day

Food

The best known and traditional meal is "tajine" which is sort of a stew made over coals or a wooden fire. It comes in pure vegetarian style, with chicken or with lamb meat. Second most popular dish is most likely chicken. Another traditional dish is couscous. Most dishes are grilled and on the market places big loads of smoke rise from the food vendors that sell anything from grilled fish, grilled sausages or grilled meat.

What is interesting is that most food, nearly all, is sold by weight. Only a few things like bread have a unit price. Not surprisingly fruits (melons, bananas, etc.), cheese, olives, and so on are sold by weight. Since refrigerators do not exist, food has to be sold alive, as it can't be kept cool. So, if you want to buy chicken you will buy a live chicken and it will be sold to you by weight. They put the live chicken on the scale, calculate the price and hand you the live chicken.

Freshness is key to cooking. Nearly all women go shopping on a daily basis, or maybe even twice a day. In a small restaurant it should not surprise you if the waiter leaves the restaurant after taking your order. He is going to buy the ingredients for your meal. In manufacturing this is called JIT, Just-In- Time, and is a well known management practice. Here they don't need to read about management practices to know how to run their businesses efficiently. In management speak they operate on "Zero-inventory". It is very common that one restaurant doesn't have something, but they will still take your order and then have the neighboring restaurant deliver it (management-speak "outsourcing"). For example, if you ask for a cake and they don't have it they will still get you your desert. They will send someone across the street or around the corner to buy it from a vendor.

The most wide-spread drink is tea and is sipped at any occasion. Normal tea is Moroccan tea which is fresh peppermint tea with a load of sugar. Not being able to drink alcohol, they call the tea jokingly Moroccan whiskey. Making the tea and serving the tea is a procedure with tradition. The owners usually bring a cup of water in a small tea pot to boil on his gas cooker. Then they add freshly washed mint leaves, add green gunpowder tea, break a few junks of sugar of a big hard clump with a knife, and provide the traditional pouring-ceremony while serving the tea. This ceremony consists of pouring the tea from some 10 inch distance into a small glass so that a little bit of foam forms. Then the tea pot is opened and the glass is poured back into the pot. Now the pouring is repeated again for the first glass. The second glass thereafter can be poured directly without pouring it back into the pot, but it is also poured from a high distance. I still don't know why they do it, but they all do it. The tea is very sweet. I would estimate that they put the equivalent of about 5 tea spoons in every glass. The dentist will have a field day.

Coffee, on the other hand, is usually served with a lot of milk, very light. Furthermore, coffee is usually served with a glass of water, or sometimes with a bottle of water. So it is not unusual seeing a Moroccan sitting in a bar for 3 hours nurturing the same small coffee and drinking a whole quart of water meanwhile.

Transportation, From Mules to Mercedes

Buses on the other hand go anywhere and also pretty frequently. Using a bus is an experience in its own. It can be anything from plain transport to a cultural event. The taking-the-bus experience is approximately as follows.

• Find the bus station. This is sometimes not so easy. Big cities have at least 2 bus stations. There is the bus station of the government-run buses and the private bus station. Other cities have various bus stations depending on where you want to go. If you want to go nort, you need to go to the northern bus stations, etc.
• Ask 3 people when the bus leaves, if there is no consistency in the answers ask at least 2 more
• Be at the gate or bus station at least 15 minutes before departure, because the buses leave sometimes a bit early.
• Buy your ticket if possible 30 minutes or a few hours early as sometimes the buses are full.
• Get on the bus early, as early as possible as a matter of fact, to get a seat. Otherwise you might have to stand on a 6 hour journey.
• Think hard if you are going north, west, east or south and if it is morning or afternoon, then figure out if it is better to sit on the left or on the right side of the aisle. Hint: you want to sit where the shade is or will be.
• Fight with the luggage boy about where you can put the luggage, if you can take it on the bus and how much you have to pay him.
• Sit down and start sweating in the heat and the plastic seats.
• Now comes the entertainment part. In the movie theaters they show you trailers before the movie; here they have "trailers" before the journey.
• The procession starts.
• First enter the fan sellers that offer pieces of cardboard or weaved palm leaves that you can use to generate some cooling airflow.
• Next come in water vendor, chewing gum vendor, candy vendors, breakfast or snack vendors, religious-music-on-tape vendors, etc.
• Then enter the beggars and the handicapped asking for alms.
• All enter in the front and leave in the back.
• Finally the bus leaves.
• As the air comes in from the window you start sweating less (if you are lucky enough that your window will open).
• Now you have to survive the smog/exhaust pollution attack. On some buses instead of the smog going out through an exhaust pipe it comes into the bus through the engine cover in the floor of the bus.
• Furthermore you hope that you have no flat tire.
• Eventually you get to the destination and are welcomed by "Frances? Espanol? Italiano? 1 Dirham please? Do you need a room? Do you need a guide? My friend has a 4x4, do you want to tour the desert?"
• You shake off the touts and get away from the busy bus station; usually you head to the first orange juice vendor to freshen up with a glass of lukewarm but delicious freshly squeezed orange juice.
• At last you look forward to the next bus journey tomorrow.

As you can see taking the bus is a lot of fun, most of the time. Some bus trips are special. So was the journey from Marrakesh to Asni. There is a bus every 30 or 60 minutes to Asni, but the demand is high so all the buses fill up. Some clever salesmen have recognized and so they wait at the bus station until the bus arrives. Once the door opens they storm in and reserve 4 to 6 seats each. I was maybe the 15 person on the bus but, too late, all seats where already reserved. So, if you want a seat you have to pay the person who has the seat reserved. What is best, is that the people selling you the seat don't even have a bus ticket. They just storm on the bus, reserve seats, sell the seat and get off the bus.

In general the air pollution is pretty bad. Standing in the bus terminal can be unpleasant for me because of the smog. One of the worst experiences, however, was the bus in which the floor was broken and the smog from the engine which sits right under the floor came straight into the bus. The bus assistant tried to fix the floor a couple of times with a screw driver, but without luck. I felt like a person who decided to commit suicide by closing his garage and letting the car's engine run will sitting in the car in the garage. I was gasping for air. It was bad but I survived.

Usually people do not take animals onto the bus, but some of the short distance buses in remote village carry goats or smaller animals on top of the minibuses. When people get together to sell animals on the market, not only do they put goats on the roof of their minibuses but also sheep and cattle. Now that I am writing these line I wonder how do they get the cattle on top of the minibus? It doesn't sound like an easy task.

On a bus ride about anything can happen. Once we were sitting and waiting inside the bus for more than half an hour. The departure time was long overdue. The bus driver and the man selling the tickets got on and off the bus and I wondered why we are not leaving as the bus was pretty much full, the engine running and the driver ready. It turned out that they had counted the people on the bus and the number of tickets sold and concluded that some people were missing. So, driver and ticket sales person were going to all the nearby bars and restaurants until they found the missing people, tourists innocently eating their lunch. Isn't that good service? The bus driver comes to your restaurant table to inform you that your bus is more than ready to leave.

On the road from Erfourd to Minehir we had a flat tire on the bus. This is not too surprising as the tires are all worn off and without treads. After the bang we stopped and got off the bus. 40 degrees and strong wind carrying some desert sand welcomed us. It was a routine job and quickly they had change the shredded tire. In a next village we stopped a second so that the bus driver could make a phone call; and a bit later on we stopped a third time because the spare tire had very little air and the driver had to add air to the new tire.

These intercity rides usually last a few hours and most of the time you drive through uninhabited desert. In these deserts you can frequently see plastic bags, brought by the wind and trapped by some sharp rock, flapping in the wind. Waste bins in public plastic are pretty much unheard of. So it is common to throw things away wherever you are. This also happened on one bus ride. The ticket boy during the ride started cleaning the bus and threw 11 bottles out of the window of the driving bus. Yes, 11, I did count them. He went through the aisle, looked for all empty bottles in the luggage compartment above the seats and any empty bottle or other useless things he threw out of the window. Mostly plastic water bottles ended up on the road side, but also a glass Coke bottle found its shattered resting ground on the road side.

A little bit faster and a little bit more expensive than buses are shared taxis. Shared taxis are taxis that run fixed routes and wait until the taxi is full before setting off. Usually it is an old Mercedes and it fits 5 people plus the driver. In Dades Gorge we went in a shared taxi that in total held 11 people. 11 people in 1 regular car of type station wagon. I thought that that would be the record. But we broker the record later when we crammed 12 people into one mid-sized car. Now, that is what I call truly economic use of gasoline. On many routes that are 1 hour or less, shared taxis are a good choice. On less frequented routes without bus service they are the only choice.

In the south of the country when the terrain gets rougher, in the places where the streets stop, the camel takes over. While in the previously centuries and decades the camel was a real transportation choice, today it is primarily used for tourism and to some small degree for work. 4x4s are replacing more and more the camels and the camels degenerate slowly to show objects for taking photos.

Unlike camels which can only be found in small regions in the south and in a few places on the coast, for tourist rides on the beach, the mule can be found nearly everywhere. It is found in any market and you can see them daily in the regular traffic in villages or towns transporting goods. It is ubiquitous. The mule also has found some tourist use as pack animal on mountain treks; e.g. Imlil is a center for such pack animals.

In regular urban traffic from tiny villages to the largest cities, you can always find mules forming part of the traffic, usually transporting goods in a cart. This forms the one extreme, the symbol of the tradition. On the other hand the symbol of advance and prosperity is the Mercedes. It seems without doubt that the favorite car in Morocco is the Mercedes. The vast majority of the shared taxis are Mercedes, and any proud Moroccan drives a Mercedes for his private pleasures. Most Mercedes are more than a decade old, but they are robust and roomy cars that keep running. Nearly as reliable as the mules. Morocco is moving from mules to Mercedes, the country of mules and Mercedes, M&Ms.