Magnificent Morocco-North

I have finally nailed crochet. This is exciting as I think it's going to open up a whole new world for me whilst travelling. I can take the hooks on aeroplanes, pull it out on buses and as it is so quick to complete a granny square (I can belt out two between Knaresborough and Leeds station) I should come back with a ball transformed into squares. Since the weather has finally become warm, I don't really need them so I'll donate them to a charity to make into a blanket and leave them here in the UK which gives me an added warm fuzzy feeling. Hopefully I meet a few local nannas along the way who befriend me as a result. Either that or I'll end up sitting by myself draped in wool....
Our time between Turkey and now Morocco seems to have been a whirlwind. Getting back into the UK, we hit the ground running once more and the last three weeks feels like three months. It sounds ridiculous to those outside our situation, but we do need a holiday! As usual, our idea of a holiday is visiting some far flung place that challenges us and extends us so we're throwing ourselves into Northern Africa during the middle of summer and Ramadan. 40 degrees, here we come!
Our morning started off with an email from a dear friend somewhat concerned we were heading into Morocco in Ramadan. I'm thinking it will be fine as Casablanca appears to be quite cosmopolitan, however since her concerns are based on a work colleague who is a Moroccan local, maybe it's not. I'm thinking it'll take a few days to get acclimatised to the heat and hotels will have some food so worse case scenario is we eat brekkie, head off exploring, come back to hide from the heat in the middle of the day and have some sneaky food and drink and then go out partying when Eid hits. I have plans of wearing my biggest head scarf and 'looking' for things in my bag which will of course be an opportunity to have a sneaky drink through a straw. Maybe we won't even have to, there may be places selling food and drink.....how anyone can survive such heat without having water all day is beyond me. I don't think God is that mean to want humans to suffer like that.
As we're about to leave, I hear a friendly 'hello' from Tony, Janet's next door neighbour. He is a very sweet man who finds frogs in his pond for me and other little English wildlife, always stopping to chat each day as he's gardening. Janet is so lucky to have such kind neighbours-Lyn his wife has also befriended me, giving me piles and piles of books that she's read and recommends so I've got two of hers in my bag ready to leave in Morocco as part of the 'Bookcross' programme. 'Bookcross' is designed to read and recycle-leaving books in public places for people to find, read and then leave for another. Each book has a unique number and if you search for it online, you can see where in the world it has travelled, who has read it and reviews. So up my alley :-)
Tony knows we're leaving today and since it's drizzling (Ahh, England!) offers to drive us to the station. How I wish I could take them back with us to Aus, we barely knew our neighbours. I would always say hi to them all but never had such a close relationship.
As we've got an early flight tomorrow, we're back in a Manchester hotel the night before. Whilst adding to the cost, it does allow us a calm and civilised trip to the airport meaning we've got a whole day to chill out, watch TV and got lost in the plans for our trip. Our flights to Morocco are via Lisbon (they must've been cheap) so a big day of travel awaits. I amuse myself by watching the antics of two year old twins, wandering up and down the airport terminal and crocheting.
We arrive into Morocco in to what must be the peak of crankiness for fasting taxi drivers. We've been told that a taxi cost 250 dirham so when he tries for a ridiculous price, I insist on 250. He relents to 300 but won't budge, pointing to a sign that says prices. The sign actually says 250 but now he's getting angry and we don't want a cranky driver so suck it up. We make him happy along the way by practicing our Arabic and blessing him when he sneezes and when we arrive and realise Ramadan is due to be broken in about 20 mins, we feel immense sympathy for what he has most likely had to endure in a hot car driving around annoying tourists.
Settling into our home for the next few days, the hotel is charismatically Moroccan with all the mod cons. We run out quickly to try and find food, noticing that the streets are quiet and no one is around. I've got my trusty 'Lonely Planet' out and are trying to find a restaurant nearby but everything is shut. Not wanting to keep walking down lonely quiet roads we spot a sign for pizza so make a beeline for it. We're the only westerners in there but are welcomed in and pull out or Arabic phrasebook for translation. No one else is eating pizza and when we ask for it, he shakes his head. We look around and see that everyone is eating the same thing so point to what a man is having nearby. He puts one finger up and we put up two hoping that we'll end up with two meals.
Two meals do indeed come and we quickly realise that we've stumbled across a restaurant serving up the Ramadan feast breaker. We wonder if we have made a massive faux pas but figure that they wouldn't serve us if it wasn't ok. We cross our fingers that this is indeed true and as we tuck into our soup, boiled egg, pain au chocolat, dates and deep fried pastries when a man who has been hiding in the corner walks past and starts chatting. He tells us what we have been dreading that we are in fact eating the Muslim meal but that yes, it is okay for us to eat it also. Breathing a sigh of relief, we began trying to communicate with the elderly waiter about drinks. The man keeps shaking his head at my pronunciation and even showing him our book is met with more head shakes. Another man comes to our rescue and it turns out the first man just didn't have his glasses so couldn't see the tiny writing in Arabic. At the end, our meal costs less than $10 so we leave him a 50% tip for their patience and kindness in allowing us to eat with them in their Ramadan break. I love this type of travel!
The following day we flag down a petit taxi and haggle our way from 150 to 30 for a quick trip across to the Hassan II mosque. One of the only mosques open to non Muslims in Morocco, this is meant to be one of the best in the world also including its minaret which is the tallest in the world
and has an LED light that shines towards Mecca of an evening. With our slow beginning to the day we manage to get tickets to the last tour of the morning and are totally blown away by the

intricacies of this incredible building. It is made entirely of Moroccan materials excluding the Venetian glass chandeliers and was built in only 6 years. It has ornate intricate detail everywhere you look and is built over the sea as apparently in the Koran, heaven is over the ocean. It has a retractable roof and can fit in 20,000. 15,000 men in the main section and 5000 women above with another 80,000 outside for Ramadan. The retractable roof slides back in less than three minutes sending shafts of sunlight onto the pure gold emblazoned on the doors and creating mirrors on the perfectly polished floor. The outdoors features tiled marble squares laid in beautiful geometric patters , water fountains, sea breezes and grateful pigeons sheltering from the heat of the

mid summer sun. Tony and I are embracing Ramadan when we're out and so quickly return to the hotel for lunch stopping at some local corner shops to pick up what we can. We find a wholesaler opposite the hotel who is kind enough to let us buy our little picnic provisions and with our makeshift lunch of orange juice, chips, processed cheese and our left over rice cakes from England our lunch is eagerly consumed. Delighting in the delicious air con for the rest of the afternoon, we rehydrate and patiently wait for the end of Ramadan.
We were told by the hotel staff last night that the fast was broken approximately 7:45pm so when an air raid blasts at 7:45pm exactly we're pretty sure it is to signify the end. Excitedly gathering our things together for dinner, we head over to a restaurant

recommended to us a few blocks away. Stepping on to the street, we quickly notice something has changed. What was a bustling street only hours before has changed into something out of Armageddon. There is not one soul out in the street of our hotel nor is there on the busy road we'd struggled to cross previously in the day. Every car parked had gone, there was absolutely no traffic and even the stray cats had disappeared. Tony stood in the middle of this street and we were both suddenly wondering if that air raid siren was actually real and we had suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a Derren Brown episode. Luckily we find our way to the restaurant and it is brilliant. It is sumptuously decorated with lamps and lanterns, thickly brocaded cushions and chairs and stunning art work. The food is incredible-chicken tagine with olives, delicious olives and crusty bread. Yummo, we have hit the jackpot tonight!
The following morning we are feeling more and more in the swing of Morocco and Ramadan, finding ways to cope with the heat by retreating in the

middle of the day to our aircon oasis. We take the tram out to Le corniche to check out the beach, finding with disappointment that it's a dirty shoreline filled with litter and donkeys. Not small horses, Tony. We persist in the hope of finding the posh hotels and restaurants but Ramadan in full swing means businesses shut and sleeping people, reemerging only to celebrate at night. Walking back in the heat, we are surprised to see the tram waiting yet the attendant shaking his head at us. Apparently, the tram drivers are praying and the tram won't move until they've finished so Tony and I hang out under the honeysuckle watching the world go by. Emerging from a concrete building near the tram, the driver gives us a nod and we embrace the beautiful new tram and hint of coolness it offers. Picking up some biscuits from a patisserie yet to close, we once again stock up on picnic snacks and are grateful to have any food for our hotel lunch retreat at all. The heat of the day has gotten to us and we have become quite cranky deciding that we'd never be able to endure a month of no eating or drinking in this heat. We are Ramadan failures.
We met our group and leader that night and were delighted to find them to be lovely and kind. We had dinner together at a restaurant that was heaving with tourists and once again decorated with beautiful soft furnishings and Moroccan lights contentedly talking and getting to know each other. It was the perfect beginning to what would be a fantastic group full of gorgeously interesting people.
The alarm went off and I began my day with eagerness to be at breakfast punctually to have enough time to repack our bag. Tony's phone had once again done something funny and his time was still an hour behind so we were a little flustered. Coming down to reception, we were stopped by a woman mopping the floor outside the closed breakfast room. That was the first rather strange thing followed quickly by a man telling us it wasn't open yet, as it was only 6am-pointing to a clock above him which clearly displayed 5:55am. Confused, we looked at my iPad and looked at Tony's phone and soon we were met by other members of the group who also were in the same predicament. Luckily Rachid our leader came down and solved the problem-daylight savings was due to start after Eid began but it hadn't yet been declared that Ramadan was over so time had remained the same yet all of our devices had updated over night of their own accord. Only those who wore watches could see the discrepancy but the most important thing was we were all early not late!
Beginning our tour, we headed off to Rabat-the capital of Morocco. A few hours in our air con train and settling in to chat to our new friends, we arrived in high spirits and anticipation. Rabat was a delightful surprise. It was clean, the boulevards were lined with palm trees and as Ramadan had just finished, we had a quite and calm meander through the streets. We were given a map after lunch and when we arrived at the Kasbah Les Oudaias, we had to find our own way back to Le Tour Hassan. It was a great way to support independence and empower our own interests yet we'd already formed a cohesive group so chose to hang out together. This was our first taste at the craziness of medinas and kasbah so we tentatively picked our way first to the views of the Atlantic Ocean and then through the tiny alleys of blue and white lanes. Feeling exhilarated and excited to sink my teeth into this new adventure, I loved how each twist and turn gave me a sneaky snapshot into the worlds of the people living behind the ornately carved doors and blue plant potted steps. Rewarded at the end of our 'Choose Your Own

Adventure' walk, we found ourselves in an open square with a picturesque view of the ocean and great photo ops. Managing to navigate our way back to meet Rachid, Le Tour Hassan would've been the second largest mosque in its time alas the sultan dies before it was completed. The current mosque was guarded by a security man, but when he saw my interest, invited me over and allowed me to peer inside. He inched me closer and closer to the door frame until suddenly he out his hand up when I had reached the magical do not cross line. I was greeted with the sights of intricate mosaics, huge metal stained glass lampshades and beautiful carpets.
We got on another train heading to Meknes and

quickly transferred to Moulay Idriss by taxi. One may think that a taxi is not worth writing about but, I must. These taxis were old 80's cast off Mercedes that had seen their fair share of driving. The doors had been reconditioned, fabric replaced with suave plastic animal print and the door handles and window lever removed. This was so four people could squish in without damage from such archaic implements. All good until the weather hits mid 30's and suddenly window levers are a necessity. Unaccustomed to protocol, we sat in the back sweating profusely until we were told we needed to ask for the lever back. With a smile, the driver handed us back a lever which fitted perfectly into the door and suddenly we had ye olde air con. Who knew how exciting windows down

could be!
Arriving at our destination at Moulay Indriss, we were greeted by an eager man and his donkey. All of our massive bags were piled out from the taxi and one by one they were being loaded onto the poor old mule. He had a basket contraption that went over his back holding one bag on each side of him and another on the top, I would've happily dragged mine up the steep stairs as in my opinion that was my own silly fault for packing so much but instead,the poor old donkey left, staggering away with my undies. In reality he was probably carrying less than he normally would with a human sitting on his back but us first world visitors struggle with seeing animals used this way. Or I do at least, some of the other passengers quickly reassured me he was fine and put it into perspective. We walked up the steep steps to our guesthouse and were rewarded to the most incredible place. Our room was full of mosaics, old wooden furniture and huge stained glass windows with shutters. It was a traditional home made into a guesthouse with all rooms focused around the square internal space that was overlooked from all levels. This square usually was open to the air but

had been enclosed with a glass roof. The sun poured in and we were kept dry from any rain. The owner was in the process of acquiring the neighbours properties and building up -proudly taking us on a tour of the new rooms he was adding and showing us the rooftop terrace. We were admiring the view when a rock moved. He had tortoises! Four in fact although we only found two. We hung out on the roof for a while before heading down to dinner where we shared a meal of couscous and meatball tagine. The ladies of the house demonstrated how to prepare couscous (you rub oil into it and then steam it for about 45 mins. Our way of adding boiling water and letting it absorb it was 'equivalent to McDonald's I was informed with a

sneer, no self respecting Moroccan would ever dream of serving it like that). We snuggled into our beautiful bed delighted with our unique accommodation and Moroccan experiences.
The next morning our trusty old stead came back to carry our luggage back down to the main road. Our funky taxis were waiting also, and we giggled our way in as our luggage was strapped down, poking out of the boot precariously. We were headed to Volubilis an ancient site which was once the Roman empire's most remote base. We had a wonderful local used who kept cracking jokes and Tony proudly took the opportunity for a unique photo. The guide had shown us the sculpture which 'pointed' the way to the ancient brothel. It was a large bronze penis set upon a stone. Not a great

deal of imagination is needed to see what Tony's photo included. Volubilis was a fascinating site and I really enjoyed the contrast between Ephesus. This site had incredible mosaics that had been uncovered, many of them intact and displaying gods and goddesses with the original colours and semi precious stones remaining. Amazingly we found more storks in this ancient city although no pregnancies were announced this trip. I did find out that night however that my dear friend Tam was in the early stages of pregnancy so they are certainly a positive omen!
We continued on to Meknès where we met with another local guide who walked us through the compact city. The heat had started to build by now and we walked the edge of the ramparts for about

30 minutes before reaching the mausoleum. It was beautiful, filled with tiny mosaics and opulent interiors. Our guide showed us why the Islamic architecture has a small place for the Immam to stand in-it naturally projects his voice all around the room and also faces East to Mecca. We continued on to the medina where 'The most beautiful door' was in the whole of Morocco as well as the beginnings of an evening market. As we approached one entrance, the guide stopped and asked who was afraid of bees. I wasn't going to push my luck so took another entrance and in looking behind me saw that the entrance to the souqs were heaving with buzzing bees. That area housed the sweets,the dates and the honey and the bees were in 7th heaven. Our entrance took us past

the cow hoofs and olives and we watched enthralled as the men piled high their collections of olives, pushing them gently into a triangular shape with their hands creating visually stunning collections. With our bellies hungry from the heat and the food, we stopped in the worlds tiniest restaurant which was a tiled rectangle off the souq which managed to fit about 7 of us squished around the edges. We were passed a plate of pita bread stuffed with meatballs and tomatoes. The meatballs were full of fresh spices and herbs and to the uninitiated, this camel burger would've been passed off as any other red meat. It's amazing how anything can taste good with a good whack of herbs. We continued onto Fès via train, arriving

early evening to settle in for a few nights. We had dinner in a tiny restaurant owned by a lady and her mother where she cooked us the local speciality-chicken pastille. I was really looking forward to exploring Fès as it is the most complete mediaeval City in the Arab world, a living museum waiting to be discovered. Our local guide was amazing and she shed so much light on the city, Morocco and women's rights throughout the day. As Ramadan had only just finished and Eid was being celebrated, we had a much calmer experience walking through the souqs than we would have any other time although the emphasis on shopping instead of exploring wasn't really my thing. We began with a trip to a viewpoint where we saw the whole medina. It was absolutely massive and I was

beginning to see why we had been told always to stay between the guide and our leader. We were also told if we did get lost to stand still as any attempt to rejoin the group would certainly be in vain. This place was massive! Our first visit was to see pottery and what was produced was stunning. I fell in love with bathroom vanities and garden fountains-boy out of my price range and sensibilities considering our home is a back pack. I do know however when we ever get around to renovating, I'd love to have a Moroccan influence. The intricate decoration is hand painted and the clay objects themselves are handspun on a pottery wheel powered by foot. Incredible to see the consistency and skill whipped up in a few seconds

out of a slab of clay. Next we began our meandering through the souqs. Narrow and cool, they were delicious reprieves from the heat of the midday sun and we found all kinds of trades hiding within these numerous walls. There were herb sellers, knife sharpeners, copper utensil renters, butchers, cooperatives and of course, the famous tannery. Walking up 4 flights of stairs, our balcony afforded views over the neutral colour range of the hides. Hundreds of pits were full of pigeon poo and lime justifying the big chuck of mint we'd be handed in our way up. Men in gumboots and semi naked men were thigh or waist high in this odorous concoction, in an attempt to either soften or colour each skin. Ranging from goat, sheep, lamb and camel the men were paid by piece not by hour so not only were

they stuck in rancid water, they had to do it all by hand with backbreaking strength required. That is a very hard days work.
Considering these men were only paid a few dirham for colouring and softening the hide the prices had magically inflated from pit to shop with Tony and I speechless at the prices asked for their leather. The store was full from floor to ceiling on all four levels, heaving with leather products. Admittedly, there were some beautiful things but it's not really my scene-vegan ethics and all...
We moved on to a beautiful shop where they sold Moroccan tea pots and brass and silver platters. Each platter had been hand engraved and the designs were incredible. Once again, impressed by the workmanship but prices through the roof. Thanks for the offer of a 10% discount on a $300 bangle, but when it's only worth $30, you have to be kidding! Someone must pay those prices though. Our last stop was the fabric shop which would normally be like a moth to a flame for me. They had created incredible blankets and scarves out of agave which they were calling silk, and in all

respects, the sheen was reflective. It would be a great vegan silk alternative as the colours were amazing however the cloth was quite dense. Waiting for the group to get their purchases, Tony and I amused ourselves watching the antics of the salesmen and chatting to our new buddies on the trip Rob and Dianne. Moving off to lunch, we spotted numerous things hiding in the levels overhead as we passed. Dogs hanging out windows, children watching us silently, Aladdin's caves, full to the brim of lanterns, lights and stained glass so by the time we reached our restaurant, we wouldn't have guessed that behind such a modest door would house such a beautiful place to dine. We had another incredible meal of olives, bread, dips and tagines, finished off with beautiful fresh fruits and mint tea. Yum!
Heading to Chefchaouen the next morning, we quickly ducked over to the neighbouring streets to stock up on snacks. Finding a local market, we pottered around although most were still closed. We found some fruit and veggie stalls, so stocked up on bananas and plums when we began noticing

our surroundings. A pet shop was nearby selling rats in cages and nearby we noticed a beautiful kestrel. This curiosity was overshadowed by a squawking when a man went to the butcher. A small tiled area behind us, we could only see the scales and a basket on top of them. The butcher had lifted up a protesting chook, weighing her as she loudly protested such unladylike manhandling. Money was exchanged, a loud clang heard and no more clucking. Fresh meat indeed. I do feel sorry about all of her friends in the cages behind who'd have watched the whole exchange. Today was forecasted to hit 45 degrees so we made sure we had litres of water before our bus. A four hour trip, we stopped along the way for lunch where they had a roaring fire crackling for roasting their chicken skewers. 45 degrees, roaring fire, no ventilation for the smoke and we were all struggling with the heat. We watched in amazement as a tourist ventured out on to the bitumen to wait for the bus to depart. It was hot!
Arriving into Chefchaouen was heaven and our accommodation once again was stunning. Full of stained glass, carved dark wood and beautiful mosaics, our balcony overlooked the inviting pool and early mountains and once inside the refreshing pool, it overlooked the blue and white washed town. Everyone quickly retreated to the icy air con or pool feeling relaxed and refreshed. Wandering through the city in the early evening when the sting had gone from the heat,we were rewarded with so many photo opportunities my iPad rarely

left my hand. This city was truly stunning and its medina beautifully cared for. We saw striking blue houses, sloping red tiled roofs, carved doorways and pot plants overflowing with colourful flowers. Arriving into Chefchaouen was heaven and our accommodation once again was stunning. Full of stained glass, carved dark wood and beautiful mosaics, our balcony overlooked the inviting pool and early mountains and once inside the refreshing pool, it overlooked the blue and white washed town. Everyone quickly retreated to the icy air con or pool feeling relaxed and refreshed. Wandering through the city in the early evening when the sting had gone from the heat,we were rewarded with so many photo opportunities my iPad rarely left my hand. This city was truly stunning and its

medina beautifully cared for. We saw striking blue houses, sloping red tiled roofs, carved doorways and pot plants overflowing with colourful flowers. A photographers dream, it was also small enough to wander around freely albeit the offers for marijuana came thick and fast to the men of the group. We found a great restaurant and climbed to the top of its five stories, enjoying the beautiful view of the Rif mountain in the background and its Andalusian feel. The bohemian ambiance was a welcome reprieve for us all and after a long and luxurious breakfast, headed up the mountain to see the town from another perspective.
The walk was a nice meander, nothing too strenuous but about three ours all up of wandering through the countryside, seeing all of the goat

herders and gawping at the paddocks full of marijuana. No wonder everyone was offering it, there were crops a plenty, as far as the eye could see only metres away from the track. There didn't seem to be any kind of fencing or protection for it but there were a few locals lying on the ground and methinks they may have partaken of the local weed the night before. The afternoon was free and a few of us tried to get into a hammam but lost confidence in its dodgy back door entrance and lack of females. Back to the pool for me!
The next day we got on another local bus-this time heading for Tangier. Cramped and hot with only the occasional gust of wind through the driver's window to cool us down, we were all delighted to get off in Tangier. We based ourselves at a restaurant near the sea, dumping our bags and heading off for a walk. Going through the back of the medina, we were given a map a few pointers and we were free to explore. Dianne and Rob came with Tony and I whilst the rest went in search of an air con cinema. Going past 'Cafe Colon' we walked up the steep

streets to the old medina and arches where we got our first glimpse of Spain. Happily wandering through the convoluted streets, we passed a few cheeky children trying their best to get us to part with our cash and they pointed out the obvious and I was delighted to find a spice shop with hammam scrubs. Still yet to have one, these mits were made of a scratchy material for exfoliation and at $1, I was pretty keen to get into the swing of it before I got a real one. The helpful man told me that local women use a prince of dried clay with barbs etched in them but since I was a foreigner I should stick to this gentle one. I agree.
Jumping in a taxi, we headed off to 'Cafe Hafa' a local affair which has attracted the likes of the Beatles and The Rolling Stones. Hidden away down an alley, it had the most magnificent views of over the Gibraltar strait and we settled in for a cup of mint tea and sweet cake. Whiling away the hours watching the ferries come and go, we chatted to our friends for ages until it was time to head back to the restaurant.
Hanging out at the restaurant gave us the chance to see this port city for what it was-thriving street children being chased away with kicks up the bum, crazy hawkers trying charm and then abuse to get money and the usual grit and grime. I absorbed myself in the delicious felafel and soaked it all up. Transferring over to the train station, we settled into our cabins which were four berths for each compartment. We'd buddies up with Rob and Dianne and proceeded to talk and talk, finally deciding we should hit the hay at 2am when the train lights went out with a bang. Initially concerned, we realised the trains were separating and heading over to marrakech so we snuggled down as best we could on the plastic hot beds and woke a few hours later having arrived in Marrakech.
Dropping our bags off and heading out to explore, we walked from the hotel into the square known as Djemma El Fna. Marrakech is described as a feast for the senses and this square is infamous; dubbed 'The Greatest Spectacle on Earth'. During the day it was reasonably quiet but we still saw the many Barbary apes (little ones without tales, about 80 cm high) which were very sadly chained and put in dresses and placed on the shoulders of stupid tourists who were paying for the privilege. There were also snake charmers galore playing flutes to the cranky snakes which apparently got put onto ice when they warmed up too much. We retreated back to the hotel for showers and air con and then I headed off in the afternoon on a mission to explore the numerous nearby art galleries exhibiting abstract art. Dinner was a sad yet jubilant affair-we had come to the end of our northern adventure with our current group and everyone was heading off to continue their own adventures. We had had such a happy cohesive group, it felt sad to say goodbye. The hotel dinner was of an incredibly high standard and it was wonderful to be able to enjoy a bottle of red with dinner and with numerous hugs and exchanges of emails, we said our goodbyes to a fabulous group of people.