Morocco - Atlas Mountains

What a different world! It was generally hot and musky like back in Marrakech, but as we entered further and further into the countryside, the smell of stale farm animal urine got up our noses. It was surprisingly refreshing as it was then that we knew that we were miles away from hectic life, traffic jams and a good hospital if we were to get injured.
Right after we leapt out of the rusty car that we shared to get us out to the Atlas mountain town of Imlil, we were noticed by a friendly enough man who introduced himself as Ibrahim. He mentioned his hostel that was in very close proximity and so rather than waste time, we followed him. It wasn't as close as we were led to believe, but it was well worth the trek. After hiking up a narrow, winding gravel track, past kids playing joyfully on the steep bank next their settlement and over a tiny stream, we were in Ibrahim's home village of M'zzik, home to about 100 people (just a guess).

His hostel was the only one in the village and it gave magnificent vistas over the valley below and of the approach to the Kasbah. We decided to take the mattresses on the floor of the room and share a few cups of whiskey Berber with Ibrahim. This drink is made by mint leaves being boiled in water like tea and then about three sugar cubes are stirred into each persons cup, but this wasn't compulsory. What a way to pass a couple of hours in the afternoon before listening to the calls to prayer that sounded from the minaret in Imlil and echoed around the valley.

The next day after sleeping like logs, we arose and sauntered down into Imlil for our breakfast of omelette with a freshly baked white bread roll. Simon opted to have is omelette with cheese and he was forever saying how delicious authentic Moroccan cheese is and how it must have come straight from the cows on the mountains. That is until Jon tutted at him and pointed to the Dairylea triangles stacked on the top shelf in the chef's kitchen. Being foodies, we walked across the thin road strip and bought five doughnuts from a tiny shack that seemed to only sell these doughnuts (just like those back in Marrakech). Four were for our dinner later after passing the village of Aremd in the higher Atlas, but one was to scoff there and then. Up in the muddy-coloured village of Aremd, there were plenty of basic, cuboid-shaped, houses, which looked like a giant game of Jenga at a distance. There was another minaret standing proudly, imitating the Koutoubia.

It was beautiful and we had fun exploring random paths between the houses, sometimes successfully getting through, sometimes coming to dead ends with cockerels keeping guard. We crossed a dry wadi, paused underneath a walnut tree with our doughnuts and enjoyed the shade whilst we had it.

On our continuing ascent, the rocks on the path became looser and we'd regularly be twisting our ankles due to us being too focused on the beauty of North Africa's highest mountain standing high, right before us, with a clear dusting of snow on the peak. Fortunately we could see this all the way up to the base, which was our turnaround point.

The village at the base had an Islamic shrine with a featureless dome and it's uniqueness was magnetising us but we became disappointed when we spotted the 'Muslims Only' sign outside.
On our descent, we were lucky to get a view over the Casbah!

Further on we met another Ibrahim who was selling carpets and he softened us up with some more whiskey Berber. Based on his location, we couldn't imagine him selling an awful lot of these typically Berber rugs so we gave him the satisfaction of walking away with not one, but two! It seemed that everybody knew each other in the Atlas mountains as, even though we were quite a long distance from our base in M'zzik, Ibrahim knew Ibrahim... If that makes sense!
One of the most incredible things was the fact that on arrival back in Imlil, a Tuareg man from the other side of the Atlas mountains had come all the way from his Saharan home just to sell his small wares to tourists. We figured that there would be more tourists in Imlil than in the vast emptiness of the Sahara, and that's probably why he's there. He stood out in his sapphire blue gown and looked deceptively more like a sultan than a member of an ethnic minority having to scrimp and save. After admiring his authentic goods on the rickety wooden table, we stopped for a well-earned traditional tagine!

Following our enjoyment in the Atlas, we were granted one more night (and day) in stunning Marrakech before returning home. Thanks go to Ryanair and Easyjet for setting up affordable flights that take just three hours, to this place which in it's cultural difference feels even further away from home. A world away in fact! It really is where the Middle East and Africa come together.

Morocco - Marrakech

Our arrival in the mysterious Marrakech couldn't have run any smoother! No sooner had we left the airport, the number 19 bus to “Centreville” appeared and with no queues nor hesitation, we hopped on! Much cheaper than a taxi and quite a nice bus! The roads seemed quite busy and frantic initially, but it became apparent that the rushing people were looking out for one another, even if there were just centimetres between car bumper and motorbike wheel.
Once we reached the bus stop in the centre, a gagging smell of stale urine greeted us from the tiny palm tree garden, surrounded by sheepish-looking mules. The team hurried through there eager to see what was happening in the main square, the Djema El Fna. Whilst we had all our heavy bags in our hands, on our backs and on our fronts, it seemed a better idea to find Riad 34 before returning to the bustling area of contrasting cultures, cuisine and Middle Eastern-African hybrid rhythms, as darkness was beginning to set in.

After leaving the somewhat crowded square of people in djelabas and burkhas, we found ourselves in endless rabbit warrens looking lost, even with a handy Lonely Planet fold-up mini-map. However, we don't feel that bad because our Riad 34 hostel was extremely difficult to find and had it not been for two young Moroccan street urchins, we'd never have come across it. We gave them a pretty hefty tip, which still wasn't enough for the ungrateful so we told them to make do with it or give it back. They took it, of course.
Well, after dumping our bags in the very welcoming Riad, we succeeded in finding our way back to the main square where it was all happening. The contrast between African drum beats and Asiatic flutes made perfect background music as we waded through crowds of people, taking extreme precautions not to be it by careless motorcyclists.

As usual, we were dying to try some of the Cuisine du Maroc and followed the smoky beacons of the food stalls. They were all quite similar and were competing fiercely with each other as hard working waiters attempted to block our paths and channel us into their space like sheep. Not happening, but merci beaucoup! The foods were indeed tempting, especially kebab skewers, salads (a traveller's no go area!), prawns, fish, cous cous and a small variety of tagines.
We were being drawn into temptation the longer we gazed in on the delights that surrounded us but something else even more attractive caught our eyes! A large table with sheeps' heads looking upwards with their brains presented very nicely on small plates nearby.

We just had to share one of the brains and this team conclude that white and grey matter is very enjoyable in between a bread bap fresh from the bakers! The course to follow after further browsing had to be snails! Absolutely gorgeous and steamed to perfection.
A sweet craving was kicking in though and we stumbled across an interesting wagon selling tea made from an extensive selection of spices, but ginger and cinnamon were definitely the most overpowering ingredients. Our chest cavities seemed to be on fire after every sip. We thought that we could rectify that with some of the sweet goodies in front of us that looked like chocolate, but was also very spicy and grainy. It's evident that they aren't very sparing on their cardamom pods!
Still with a fiery chest, Simon thought it'd be an ingenious idea to get to the orange juice stand as fast as possible. Hundreds of oranges were stacked and well-balanced on the side of the stall and the man behind was jolly and pouring out the freshly-squeezed juice all night. It was so pure and it seemed to neutralise everything spicy that we had consumed. Voilà!

As we continued ambling around, we weaved in and out of street sellers who had sprawled themselves and their wares on the ground and found ourselves impressed with the handicrafts on show. An array of items could be bought ranging from all-Morroccan incense and perfume blocks to mirrors, tagines and hanging lanterns in all colours, sizes and patterns. Oh! And plenty of rugs! Some women were sitting patiently whilst being given henna tattoos, whilst the curious were seated and listening to fortune tellers.
We eventually traced our way back to the Riad for some shut-eye and on the way we saw hungry-looking cats and kittens rummaging through bags of refuse with the odd cockroach diving in as well. The narrow streets were cosily lit and had high walls with frequent arches adding to the capturing charm of the old city.
Our next day in Marrakech was equally fulfilling, but required a lot more interaction with the locals, just as we like it! Wandering down the endless, winding streets in search of the souks brought it all home to us that poverty is very prevalent, as we saw occasional beggars with outstretched arms and open palms pleading for spare change. Young children who were playing happily in the street stopped to say “Bonjour” and when we responded, the follow up question was always “Le bonbon?”. We definitely should have brought some sweets with us from home in hindsight.
What was really unbelievable was how donkeys and their carts could live in harmony with buzzing motorbikes without causing huge traffic jams within the tiny tunnels that were only slightly wider than one's arm span.
Having finally made it to the souks we were enchanted by the Aladdin's cave of what was on sale and the aromas of thousands of spices! Where to go first?! It was a magical sight, walking though colourful caves being hassled by the salespeople to enter their market spot. “Just a look. Looking's free, you know?”. The moment we showed interest in something the market wallahs asked “Which one you like? How much you pay?”
Low and behold we ended up haggling the Moroccan way for no less than twenty minutes, and were persuaded by them and ourselves to purchase. We left Morocco in the end just very much over the hand-baggage size limit with characteristic artefactual lamps that had carefully detailed metal crafting and stained glass touches. But let's not leave just yet! There's more to see...
Wandering in the direction of the hard-graft life within the city, we noticed a death-defying stench of corpse which turned out to be a tannery. So, this where the leather belts and wallets are produced!

We noticed a young boy up to his knees in pungent leather juice, whilst his superior was hunched, chucking the same fluid away with a black plastic bucket. The two remained engrossed in their work and solemn. We didn't stick around too long but it was such an experience to see this.
The tannery odour was exchanged for the aroma of hundreds of mixed spices, of which each kind had been heaped to the height of a small person (almost). Well, that was all great and mysterious but we soon discovered that glue had been used to craftily stick the spice powder onto a conical piece of card.
Just as hunger was starting to strike, a magic doughnut stall appeared with the owner rolling the rings generously through white sugar. As we approached the stall another random local told us that the doughnuts were one dihram each (approximately free... well, very cheap) and the man behind the stall looked a little miffed that he didn't manage to con two travellers who, to be honest, would have paid a lot more for those treats.

At sunset, the centre of the old city beckoned and off we went to continue awing over Moroccan things like snake charmers, babouche (pointed-slipper) salesmen and the tantalising smells of local cuisine. The smells were wafting over from the surrounding stalls and temptation took over, which led us to one of the tables where we tucked into pastilla. This was a sweet-tasting meat dumpling, supposedly made with pigeon in the past, but now we think it's just chicken. Gorgeous though! During consumption, we were planning our dessert as we glanced over towards one of the massive markets on wheels, covered from top to bottom with a colourful array of dates, dried apricots, and all the nuts imaginable.

It were the fiery-red, sugary, honey-roasted cashews that rocked our world though. All this with the Koutoubia dominating the square's skyline was spectacular. The Koutoubia was cosily lit up a beautiful orange-yellow shade as night fell and the long leaves on the nearby short palms whispered gently in the refreshing breeze. Its tower stood so high, making us feel minute and insignificant.

As you can see, it's beautiful by day too!