Rock the Kasbah

We both are city people and truly enjoy the madness of Marrakech. It really is a different madness in an Arab African city, one that everyone should experience. However it was time to move on.

We easily grabbed a taxi to the city bus station located next to the mud brick ramparts. I once saw an episode of Michael Palins series Sahara where he almost gets run down in this very station and describes it as sheer insanity. Today it was silent. Many buses stop running during Ramadan, so we easily boarded a bus for Ait Benhaddou.

The 5 hour drive south of Marrakech was spectacular. We quickly climbed the Atlas mountains on a breath taking road and crossed the Tizi N Tichka, the highest pass in Morocco (2235 metres). After the pass we made our way down to the desert and the landscape changed to lunar like, devoid of all green.

Ait Benhaddou is one of the best preserved kasbahs in the country. A kasbah is a fortified city in addition to a hit song by the Clash. The kasbah is beautiful and striking, set on a hill and surrounded by palms in the middle of the desert. Ait Benhaddou is well preserved because it has been used in about 20 films. Lawrence of Arabia was filmed here and more recently Gladiator. The kasbah has been UNSECO protected since 1987.

Here's the thing about sights such as these, don't get me wrong it is beautiful, However the few remaining families have thought of every way to extract money from tourists. Let me preface this rant by reminding you that this kasbah was almost completely rebuilt for Gladiator and receives restoration money from UNSECO. To enter the Kasbah the locals have closed off all the open areas. They force everyone to enter through one entrance where a hand painted sign demand a 10Dirham restoration fee. Once inside we wander the narrow passages and are asked if we would like to enter any of the locals homes, for a fee of course. We even saw one man take a photo of a door, then out of nowhere an old lady appeared to demand money for the shot. Its sad to see what tourism does to some places and sometimes you question whether you should be there at all.

That said it was a good day and once the tour buses left we did not regret staying in this Small desert village. It seemed once the hordes of tourists left the locals turned back into typically hospitable Moroccans.

As Jordana napped I stood alone on the guesthouse rooftop watching the sunset. But for the call to break fast the town was beautifully silent.

Please Touch My Monkey

We started the day with breakfast on the rooftop overlooking the 70 metre high minaret of the Koutoubia mosque. Walking across the djeema el fna we entered the souks (markets) looking for the Ali Ben Merdessa or Islamic school. The school was beautiful as was the neighbouring Musse Marrakech, but the real experience was the souks.

The souks are an intense place. You walk through crowded alleys with motorbikes squeezing through. A man jumps in my face and grabs my arm yelling Hello, look please, maybe later. A veiled woman comes at us from, the other side holding her hand out for whatever change we may have and in the corner of my eye I spot the meat stall. Oh yes the meat stall is a great place. This is why we are veggies. A whole side of cow hangs, livers splayed out and the greatest sight of all, strung out like garland is the fat, sinew and tendons of some poor animal. Turning right down another alley and we spot a hanging fox, whole dried iguanas and dead vultures. Apparently the fox is not for sale, ruined my shopping day. Welcome to the white magic souk, filled with ingredients for magical potions for love were told. If you ask nicely you can even get some illegal rhinoceros horns in the back.

Parts of the souks exist largely for tourists, however the mentioned areas are all local. In the blacksmith souk it feels as if you are walking through a factory. Men file, grind and pound away then sell their wares in the shop front. As crazed a place as the souks are, they really do wear you down, it has been our favourite place to wander. You need patience and a sense of humour but with both its an unforgettable place.

At night we are drawn back to the djeema el fna, seems like all locals and tourists come here at night. The square is the heart and soul of this African city. First up we hit the snail stall. No garlic butter here, just a bowl of sticky gooey snails that I pull out of their shells with a toothpick, delicious. Jordana tastes one and stops there.

Leaving the square for the night we walk through the snake charmers, henna artists and of course the monkeys. A man approaches with his monkey wearing a diaper and shinny vest. Please touch my monkey. Whoa, we just met buddy.

Ramadan

Allah akbar, ashhdu an lallah ila allah

I'm awaken this morning at 4:30am by the call to prayer. The call to prayer in Marrakech is a powerful and eerie sound. With so many mosques the city is filled with the chanting from each muezin all blending together. I wonder how many people are actually making their way to pray at this ungodly hour? Two hours later the muezin is at it again, proclaiming sunrise. Being the holy month of Ramadan fasting will now begin until sunset.
As Tourists you are not expected to fast for Ramadan, however it is sign of respect to participate. Jordana and I tried hard to not let anything pass our lips. However in 37 degree heat we gave in and discreetly drank 1 litre of water in about 30 seconds.
It really is in incredible to watch everyone scurry about just before sunset. People buying food for the nights fitr or breaking of the fast. Then when the call comes that it is sunset the streets of this noisy city of 1 million come to a hush. Shopkeepers who cant make it home feast with others in their shops or on a small table on the sidewalk.
I really cant imagine going this whole month of Ramadan fasting from sunrise to sunset. But the fasting is one thing, also given up this month is smoking and sex. Of course there is no beer to begin with, so this is not the month to come to Morocco looking for a bender. It is however quite a sight to witness.

Marrakech; To Look is Free My Friend

After 12 hours of flying we finally arrived in the hot dusty city of Marrakech. Upon exiting the oddly empty Menara airport we were pounced upon by taxi drivers. I quickly heard that about 5 of maybe the12 drivers were named Mustafa, maybe I misnamed the blog. Our driver drove like a madman whose wife was about to give birth in the backseat, we swirved into oncoming traffic and around bikes and donkeys at breakneck speed. In the end we arrived safely at the edge of the Medina of Marrakech.

Jordana and I do not do reservations, this is a great way to travel but also a bit tough in a large, hot and dusty city. The streets of the medina are very narrow, so the taxis let you out on the edge of the old town. We wandered around looking for a hotel sweating like a fat kid in a bunny suit, kinda like the one I wore on the Halloween of 84. We were followed by touts who yelled come look my friend, to look is free. The thing with hotel touts is that when they follow you into a hotel they also get commission, which means that you end up paying that commission. Hence you try to avoid all touts. This leads to you turning into a rude guy who ignores everyone on the street who tries to speak with you.

As it so often works out just when things are looking like they cant get any worse we stumbled upon a fantastic little hotel, Riad Hamza. A riad is an old restored house and is huge. This riad is 4 floors with a centre courtyard open to above with a water fountain and a small seating area. The tile work is beautiful and we have breakfast on the roof top terrace.

We showered up and headed out to check out the town. Strolling through the Djeema el fna which is an assault on all your senses. The djeema is a huge square filled with snake charmers, monkeys dancing, story tellers, fresh orange juice and best of all an array of food stalls. It was here we enjoyed a fabulous dinner of calamari, aubergines, olives and bread. After dinner we were pretty wiped out having not slept in over 24 hours, so we headed to a quiet cafe. We ended the night people watching, while sipping fresh mint tea and eating sweets which Jordana insisted upon.

Morocco

"Why would you want to go there?"

This is the question we are most commonly asked when we tell people what part of the world we're off to next. Usually our answer is; "um why not?" Our decision for going to Morocco goes back quite a few months. First we had thought of going to Burma, Venezuela or Tunisia. I’m not quite sure ultimately how we decided on Morocco for this trip, but usually it goes something like this.

As some of you know I have an obsession with maps. I can sit around for hours just flipping through a world atlas. So after staring at a map of some region I usually get the need to figure out what the heck it actually looks like there. I start thinking "wow, check out the dramatic increase in elevation south of Marrakech! I gotta go see this." Hey that's entertainment when you don't have cable. Usually that leads to me sending Jordana an email with info and pictures to some random country that I have decided we need to see. She replies saying, "you're crazy, we can't afford it." Then we get home and I continue the sell. We walk over to Chapters and read some travel guidebooks and about 30 minutes later over coffee were talking about how to find the cheapest way to Morocco. Selling a trip idea to Jordana is about as tough as selling beer at Oktoberfest.

Right, so why Morocco? I've always considered Morocco as one of those must see countries of the world. Morocco has almost everything a traveller could want and while somewhat touristy, you can still find your way off the beaten path. Boasting Exotic cities, snowcapped mountains, the Sahara, Mediterranean beaches and even Roman ruins, Morocco looks to have it all. I also heard that it's the second coolest place in the world and everyone knows how cool Jordana and I are. Seems like a good match. Our other motive for this trip is that we have a couple of stains on our living room carpet. Since Berber people make up almost half of the population I'm guessing these are the same people that make Berber carpets. I'm hoping we can swing a better price dealing directly with the Berbers than with Ikea. Let's hope so, because Morocco is a long way to go only to find out that berber carpets are cheaper at Ikea.

So lets all thank Al Gore's "creation" of the internet, because now everyone can travel vicariously with us for the next 20 days through Morocco. Bookmark our blog "Carpets, Camels and Mohammed" and check back often for updates.