Are Tuskan Raiders from Morocco?

DATE: April 2006
LOCATION: Marrekech, Morocco

I haven't sent out a travel log in a REALLY long time. I've been traveling, just haven't felt like writing due to traumatic life changes. Luckily about the time I felt like hitting keyboard again, I had a trip planned! What luck! I have a new and as of yet untested travel buddy, and I'm out of practice, so bear with me! Maybe I’ll get motivated enough to go back and do short ones on Latvia, Paris, Champaign, Oslo, Ankara, Tuscany, Amsterdam, and the English West Country. But probably not. For now we’re off to Morocco!!!!

Ellis and I arrived in Marrakech using the scenic route; by way of Paris and Casablanca. As in most third world nations, a host of cab drivers waited anxiously to rip us off the moment we set foot outside the airport. I’ve resigned myself to getting ripped off on the first cab ride of a vacation. You haven’t got the exchange rate down yet, and haven’t had anyone tell you how much you’re supposed to pay for a cab. Ripe for the plucking. I used to get mad. Now I just accept it as inevitable ‘cause it’s easier that way. We’d booked a hotel before arriving, and Julie and Nat (my second and fourth sisters respectively) were already there to meet us. The cab driver tried to give us a tour as we wove our way at breakneck speed through pink buildings and city traffic. Unfortunately, my Arabic consists of writing the alphabet and introducing myself, and my French isn’t what it used to be. Both were better than his English. Ah, there is the prison he said with a laugh. And here is your hotel. Got that part.

The hotel Ayoub was nice enough from the outside, probably not the 3 star it touted on the website, but whatever. It was also FULL of European bus tourists, all checking their daily schedules in the lobby and making a ruckus as they piled on to their giant air conditioned capsules each morning. We preferred a more tried and true method of travel…two feet and crazy-ass taxis. Nobody was going to organize us. NO SIREE, we were going to do things OUR way, at OUR pace. Yeah right…

We dropped the bags, grabbed the girls and headed to the medina, or old town center. First we had to pass the prison. Once past the prison thing got better looking and smelling. The roses were in bloom on every corner. Huge massive fields of them. Not what I was expecting in place I’d heard described as filthy.

We entered the main square at dusk, and it was like nothing I’ve seen. And I’ve seen some things. It was massive. Not Tiananmen Square massive, but the closest thing I’ve seen in a country NOT obsessed with shows of military might for their dictator. In the middle of the square were food stalls. Hundreds. They were organized in perfect rows, all numbered with tables surrounding the white tents. All were brightly lit and steaming. The bright lights made the steam from each tent sparkle and glisten and the mass of humanity swarming around and through the isles seem hazy and dreamy. On the outside of the food tents were red juice carts, stacked with perfect piles of bright shiny oranges that reflected the lights and made your mouth water. We worked our way to a restaurant touted as having the best Tagines and couscous in town. Tagines are meals of chicken or lamb slow cooked over hot coals in clay dishes. The bottom dish is deep, and the lid is cone shaped. I’m totally hooked. After dinner we got orange juice…a large glass for 30 cents! Julie couldn’t resist getting a henna tattoo. Ladies lined up all around the square with little stools and bags of the henna paste. She got done all up her leg. It was beautiful, a work of art. Then the lady did her wrists too, as a gift. It was apparently the thing to do during a night out. The square was packed with local women getting henna on every exposed part of their bodies. Since it is a Muslim country, there weren’t many exposed parts. Nat and I got smaller tattoos the next night.

The square was full of locals wearing hooded robes, donkeys with carts, incense dealers, snake charmers, water sellers in red costumes clanging brass cups, henna artists, mysterious food (snail soup STINKS!), steam, lights, the call to prayer from the Mosque, the warm evening breeze. All tinged with the pink of the buildings and the sky.

On day 2 Julie had a grand plan to see things. Apparently she and Nat got side tracked by shopping the day before and did nothing cultural. Unfortunately we made the mistake of stopping by a shop. The store was so cute…kittens playing on bags of walnuts and in rolled carpets, how could we not? The store only had a few items, but they were varied and nice. The owner Fisial was gracious bearded man, and talked to us about lots of things. It turns out our friend Fisial was, we determined, a finder. In his small shop, he noted the things we looked at, and then he hauled us all over town to larger shops. One of the stops was a carpet seller. We sat on couches drinking mint tea and chatting as carpet after carpet was rolled out for us. The shop owner was Moses. Robert Redford bought some carpets from him. He had the pictures to prove it. The stop took an interesting turn when Ellis whispered in my ear, “hey, watch this”. He then proceeded to buy 4 carpets. Must have been something in the tea that inspired him start an import/export business on the spot. Personally I’d have slept on it before laying down that much cash, but good on him for just putting it all out there. He’s currently trying to unload the goods on ebay. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Julie was by now really chomping at the bit to “see” something. Off to the Jewish quarter which turned out to be nothing but more shopping. For dinner we ate at an upscale place in the new part of town where we could get a bottle of wine. The Muslim conservative Medina part of town is dry as a bone and we needed some Cabernet. It was amazing food, to include the pigeon tart appetizer which Nat refused to try. Nat refused to try a lot of things. Beside us was an obviously wealthy family. Mom (British), Dad (possibly French), and 2 teenage girls one of whom was very inappropriately dressed. Think Paris Hilton. We had fun eavesdropping about plans for their next vacation, and Ellis about blew our cover laughing when the dad exclaimed, “Well, we’re all going to San Tropez, next month and THAT’S FINAL” to his pouting teenagers. Rough life.

By day 3 Julie was demanding we “see things” and anybody who got us sidetracked was going to be in trouble. Unfortunately it was Friday prayers that got us, and the first 2 places we wanted to go were closed. Time for another chicken Tagine! We finally managed to enter the Palace Badia. It was ancient, stone, pink, and big. We took tons of pictures, dutifully read all the signs and left. Then we did some more shopping…for shoes. It’s the thing to buy in Morocco. They aren’t quality, they aren’t comfortable, but dang it if they aren’t cute.

Camel trekking in the Sahara is on the agenda for today. We got up early and piled into a mini bus with 3 Aussies, a retired French postman and a Canadian family of 5, which included 3 boys under the age of 7. We headed out of Marrakech and toward the Atlas mountains with their ancient Kasbahs and the Sahara beyond. The drive was windy and treacherous, and the views stunning. Lush green valleys, followed by craggy brown cliffs followed by red sand plateaus, followed by desolate moonscapes. We stopped at a magnificent Kasbah, which I can’t describe in any way to do it justice, so I put in a picture. The Canadian children amused themselves by shouting EVERY TIME they saw a donkey. Do you have ANY idea how many donkeys are in Morocco? Mom finally told them to stop yelling “donkey” so they starting making up animal sightings. And not just ANY animals. They saw ocelots, penguins and meir cats. While I commend the Canucks for wanting to educate their children in the classroom called the world, and overall they were good kids, cooping them up in a van for 8 hours with 8 strangers, none of whom have kids of their own was not responsible. By the time we arrived in Zagora, the town at the outermost edge of the Sahara we were ready to murder Ben, Sammy and Max. Seriously. You can only listen to “Down by the Bay” shouted so many times.

We found our camels lounging around waiting for us. We all bought turbans and water, and loaded up. It was getting dark as we headed out of Zagora in 3 small trains. Soon it was completely dark, the moon and stars hidden by clouds. The only sound was the wind through the trees as we skirted an oasis. One of the guides (who was probably about 11) started singing a beautiful song in Arabic. The warm wind, the desert at night and a Berber song…could it get any better? YES YES and YES. The clouds shifted, the stars came out, and before our eyes a large ball of light came from the west. It lit up the night sky, and illuminated the sand. It moved overhead, and broke into glowing pieces that trailed behind. We all sat mesmerized as it disappeared to the east. In my imagination I believed it was a divine sign, life is perfect, remember the moment, appreciate the small things, what must the magi have felt like all those years ago? Were they really on camels in a desert as well? I’m pretty sure it was a satellite re-entry, probably some old Russian thing. That is pretty cool too though. Julie thought Morocco was getting attacked by Algeria over some disputed border area (which we may well have been in) and spent a moment visibly concerned. We arrived at the Bedouin Camp and sat for food…an amazing Tagine of chicken and potatoes with fresh bread followed by tea. The moon came up, and I had a walk out into the desert alone before climbing onto a sandy mattress and covering myself with a sandy blanket. My butt was REALLY sore from that stinking camel.

Easter morning. No better way to start the day than a walk at sunrise and sharing 2 boxes of Peeps with your Bedouin, French and Aussie camel trekking friends. The French postman wasn’t impressed with the pink and purple sugary goodness. The Bedouins LOVED them. We let them have the rest. Julie may have hauled peeps all the way to the Sahara, but she wasn’t hauling them back. We got on the camels for the ride back to town. We could actually see the landscape…and let Julie’s Star Wars comments begin. Boy, I hope no Tuskan Raiders come out to get us! But she SWEARS she’s not a dork. The 8 hours back to Marrakech was longer than 8 hours, and we all got car sick. The driver was a maniac, passing cars around curves on mountains with sheer cliffs on one side. We all have to die some time. If my number was up, getting hurled off a cliff in the high Atlas of Morocco on the way home from a camel trek would be a spectacular way to end it. Nobody seemed to agree with me. The Canadians made some other excursion plans, and left us 4 hours into the trip. Ellis sang a little song…Ding Dong the Canucks are gone” ah…peace and quiet….

Julie and Nat headed back toward Spain the next day, and Ellis spent it in bed with a really high fever. His fever broke before dinnertime, and we headed downtown for one last Tagine at a restaurant overlooking the Medina. We got lost in the winding alleyways behind the souks, and drank ginseng tea with the locals. Two thumbs up. WAY UP for Marrakech.

Off to Ankara again in a week or so. Ellis is coming to meet me when I done working and we’re going to take a few days at the back side. Can’t wait!!!