Spain, Portugal and Morocco – 15 Days – Cosmos Tour – A Journal of the Tour – Part Two
Seville to Marrakech to Madrid
“……Yusif tells us it is a blend of life we have no experience of and he’s right. We are heading to Fes by indirect roads and seeing Moroccan rural life as it really is. It is stunning…..”
4:00 pm 23rd. October – Up at 6:30 am, bags out the door by 7:00 am and on the bus by 7:50 am. We drove to the bottom of Spain to catch the ferry to Tangiers, in Morocco, Africa. Passports handy, packed lunch, fruit and nuts, a packet of chips, water, no fruit fly inspection points here, and no carry on bag checks exiting Spain. We boarded the ferry at 11:45 am and it was a 45 minute crossing.
The Mediterranean was a deep blue and quite calm, although there was a very strong breeze in the port in Spain as we left; not in Morocco though when we arrived. We weren’t allowed on deck or outside at all on the ferry, maybe as it traveled fairly quickly and was very high off the water so once again, all my photos are through windows. The bus boarded the ferry as well, driven by Hosea, and I have no idea if they did bag checks on the bus either. I suspect they didn’t as our hand luggage was exactly as we’d left it on our seats.
Tangiers in Morocco was like visiting another planet. Desolate, different dress, different language, different architecture. Animals in the city. Arabic signs. The sun seemed more intense even, it was hot today about 37 degrees. Tangiers is believed to have been founded by Carthaginian colonists around the 5th century.
As soon as we’d left the ferry terminal and had passed through an X-ray check of hand luggage and passport check which had an immigration number issued to us on it, reference for future visits I’m told, we congregated for a comfort stop and money change. There was a woman handing out toilet paper allowances, about ten sheets each, and as we departed, a tip of 0,20€ was expected to be paid.
The money exchange was around 10,79 Durham per 1,00€ so I handed over 60€ and received back in excess of 600 Durham. We picked up Yusif next, our Moroccan guide for the duration of our visit. Julian relinquishes the microphone. Yusif settles into his repertoire, like a well oiled machine delivering a well recited speech and he is fabulous. Interesting. Informative. To have a local speak so lovingly of the country where he lives is a gift. He doesn’t speak all the time.
We left Tangiers and drove for an hour or so then stopped for a comfort stop. The roadhouse was called Africano and is part of a chain, it was huge, clean and they were cooking local foods in an outdoor kitchen nearby. Half an hour down the road the dry, arid landscape turns into irrigation and a food bowl. Strawberries, fruit and vegetables, potatoes, cattle, sheep. Artichokes, oranges, lemons. We see horses and donkeys.
Just came through a small settlement and past a market. The settlement is unkempt, old, dilapidated. Home made trailers and carts pulled by donkeys with families and their shopping on board amble past, some excessively overloaded with either people or goods. Prickly pear seems to often be used as hedging fences. Elevated concrete aqueducts, for irrigation, small tractors here and there, overloaded lorries, one driving almost sideways down the road as the steering on it was severely twisted. We drive out of the settlement and back into farming areas. Away from the settlement the paddocks are larger, cultivated or with standing green crops, maize, and other shorter green crops. The land looks fertile but there doesn’t appear to be wealth on the farms, no outbuildings, small equipment, fencing, tethered animals like donkeys and horses, but no real housing for animals I am noticing.
Passing by a lot of sugarcane now. The countryside is suddenly lush, rich with greyish black soils. Then just as quickly it is desolate again and dry. Irrigation seems to make a huge difference. Acres of gum trees appear, then cropping again. Sugar beets and vegetables. I see a tractor, reasonably modern, but no safety features like a roll bar.
7:15 pm – Resumed driving after a second half hour comfort stop. The landscape changes again as we wind our way through agricultural country completely off the beaten track. We left the highway not long out of Tangiers, after our first comfort stop, and we have been winding our way through the Rif mountains (not part of the Atlas Mountains), on the way to Fes. We are traveling on secondary roads, and it is a stunning landscape. At one point we were so elevated you could see panoramic views in all directions, a patchwork quilt of brown fallowed land or dry grass, hill after hill after hill.
As the sun drops the colour intensifies. Rolling dry hills, no trees. Stunning. Donkeys harnessed up to homemade carts are ambling along roadsides, fruit stalls selling local produce are manned by the farmer or a family member nearby, and shepherds are always with their sheep, alongside roads, on nearby hills, in the far distance, sitting on a rock or under a shady tree, whiling away the hours until it’s time to take the stock home to safety. There are no fences here and green pick on these rolling hills at the moment is almost nonexistent. It is an old world here, an ancient existence, the farmers have little and eek the most basic of livings from the land. Yusif tells us it is a blend of life we have no experience of and he’s right. We are heading to Fes by indirect roads and seeing Moroccan rural life as it really is. It is stunning.
“….Fes is blue…..” says Yusif “…..it is the first imperial city of Morocco…..it was at one time the capital of the Moroccan kingdoms…..it has been a declared world heritage site since 1981 by UNESCO…..Moroccan caftans are traditional dress…..the official language of Morocco is Arabic then Berber is the second language although French used to be second…..sixty percent of Moroccans are Berbers…..there are different kinds of educations in Morocco, Arabic, Berber, English…yellow slippers are traditional footwear…..they are worn for tradition or celebration…..there are 1.5 million people in Fes…..”
10:30 pm – We arrived at the Zalagh Park Palace Hote and it truly is a palace. Grand is not entirely the best word I am thinking, magnificent, resplendent and opulent also come to mind. The hotel reception is huge and a Moroccan man dressed in traditional costume makes us tea as we arrive. He is surrounded by solid silver ornate tea ceremony pieces. Keys are handed out and when I open my room door I ooh with delight. My room is a Moroccan treasure trove with sumptuous rich red fabric, huge bed and lounges, flowing curtains, a separate bathroom from the toilet and bidet, a bath and a balcony. I’m on the fourth floor so there will be photos of the cityscape tonight and when I come back from our night out tomorrow evening. There are lounges, pools, a Moroccan steam bath, massage, bars, restaurants, dining rooms, reading rooms and wide walkways. Beautiful!
11:30 pm 24th. October – Rise and shine early as no wifi meant I wasn’t sure exactly what time it was as the iPad hadn’t updated and was in conflict with my watch which I had reset yesterday. It was dark at 6:15 am according to my iPad so I did my night lights shots with a sky starting to colour with the dawn. Beautiful. It was cool at last. Finally, as the night had been unusually warm and my air conditioner had struggled. A wet towel and no blankets though helped make for a reasonable sleep. I left a tip for the maid this morning on my bedside table ,50€. Not much but something. (I came back at 2:00 pm to find the air con switched on and the room much cooler. Thank you cleaning lady!)
Then I went down to breakfast where I managed to hook up with wifi sitting at one particular table. (I had walked around until I had found I had reception.) Breakfast was reasonable but we had been warned only to eat cooked food whilst in Morocco so it limited my choices to scrambled eggs, baked tomatoes, grilled capsicum, fried potatoes, and a Danish.
We picked up our local guide Mohammad (we are told there are two million Mohammad’s in Morocco), and headed for the palace to see the seven gates, where there’s a gate for each day of the week. There were many other tourists there as well today so there seems to be a schedule to follow regarding tour’s here in Morocco. As per usual, I waited patiently for a shot with no one in it, and it was so worth the wait, then I had to race to catch the group up as they had already headed on to the next stop.
The palace is not open to the public so from there we walked to a 14th. Century Medina for a quick look before ambling down a typical Moroccan street. There’s a huge presence of idle men everywhere we go, either sitting together in groups often in coffee shops talking, or alone, simply passing time. Apparently the coffee shops are the best places to find a plumber or electrician fast when you need one. Mohammad said they are also called “unemployment agencies”. Very few women to be seen as it’s Friday, the religious day of the week for Muslims so whilst we are not permitted in a mosque, the doors are open on some as we pass and we can look in.
Mohammad then advised we would go to a panoramic lookout and there we stopped for photos.
We trekked next to a 9th. Century Medina, a city within a city. It has a surrounding wall and is a labyrinth of 9000 streets of no particular structured or planned design. We were advised to stick close today as the last person Mohammad said they lost was found several years later, and had a wife and a couple of kids in tow.
It was an eye opener. These people are poor and seem to live without alot of frivolity. I did see the odd mobile phone in use however, and on the tops of the buildings were a plethora of satellite dishes.
Shops, some no bigger than six to eight feet by four to six feet, filled to the brim with goods, and just enough room for a seat and to move around in the middle. How the shop workers got in or out was anyone’s guess, but probably in the front over the counter, which was often ladened with goods as well. Food was everywhere. Some of it was swarming with flies. Fruit and vegetables were not what we see in the supermarket in Australia but was often over ripened, with marks and blemishes and, at times it sat simply decaying. A rank stale sour odour permeated the entire place. We took photos as we quickly moved along and in the 2.5 metre and up to 3.5 metre wide cobbled alleys we passed shoppers, idle people, shop owners, tourists, donkeys over ladened with goods, trolleys, children.
No motorized vehicles here. And there were amazing images everywhere to be captured. Some children dressed for the occasion and were charging for photos to be taken, and I happily paid a man with a donkey a coin for some shots. They made a stunning capture. The donkey was dressed up but its owner so busy looking to see if a passing tourist was trying to capture his image for free he wasn’t at all focused on posing for me.
A butchers shop, with the butcher, working with the meat in the open air of the street, no windows here. I passed another shop with a huge bowl of meat, uncovered, unattended and unrefrigerated, just sitting on a counter within reach of the foot traffic. There were fruit and vegetables shops and stalls.
Clothing shops selling the native dress, the long over shirts the men wear called djellabas looked like softly draped shapeless gowns hanging on the shop walls. The women’s caftans were more ornate, but the biggest style difference between the two appeared to be colour, although beadwork, silver and gold thread and braiding made style differences too. Almost always plain coloured and reasonably bold, I saw no patterns like a Paisley, stripes or spots. We pass by a cobbler making shoes, the pointed slippers so popular with the locals. Bent forward completely absorbed over his work, he ignored us as we passed by.
An electrical goods store, brimful of cords, plugs, fittings, leads, nothing packaged or mass produced. Can I take a photo? No no no photo, I simply shouldn’t have asked. A teapot shop filled with silver tea pots every shape and size but all looking Arabic in design. More caftan shops, a lamp shop where every lamp looked like a genie would reside within, all begging to be polished just to see. There were jewellery shops, authentic shops selling handmade craft to the locals. But we have no time to stop and buy. We move on.
A shop selling seeds and grain, in small bags with the tops neatly folded down and scales, with weights and measures, nearby on the counter. Spices, all richly fragrant and in different colours, piled high in their small open bags, tantalizing to the senses and beckoning to be purchased. A basket shop that was using the cobbled street’s walls to gain extra space to display their goods. All kinds of leather goods made from local leathers as there’s a huge tannery nearby.Everything we are seeing are useful everyday items that affect the everyday lives of the Moroccans. No David Jones, Harvey Norman or Chemist Warehouse here.
Occasionally we pass by a mosque. One is the burial place of Mohammad, not our guide, the original Mohammad, says our Mohammad. They are beautiful buildings and hidden amidst the rawness of everyday life. The beautiful, clean, large buildings must be a joy to visit when the men stop by to pray.
We trek to an alley way, head through a maze of more alleys bypassing some beautiful carved door adornments and we are suddenly in a large shop. There’s an open room with seating around the edges for large groups of people. Two tour guides and 48 tourers sit comfortably in a large square. The demonstration will be in the centre. We are offered mint tea. My experience in Fiji is in the forefront of my mind. Cava and the two day migraine that followed. There was no running water or toilet paper in the toilet adjoining the building where the cava was made using bare hands, so there had been a distinct lack of hygiene. I had felt like I was going to die. So I refrain. Everyone else partakes. My luck, they’ll all survive it unscathed and I’ll have missed out on an excellent mint tea. I’m parched but I have made my choice.
The demonstration is five minutes long. And yes, they ship these beautiful handmade rugs to Australia. They swipe my card after much bargaining as I finally agree to around 65% of the starting price. It is a beautiful rug, not a typically classic piece and premium quality, 11 feet by 7 feet in size. Soft colours, blues and beiges and the work of a Moroccan woman who worked on this stunning rug for a total of nine months. I feel guilty for bargaining the price down, but I know the woman will see little of my money. I however, feel a winner in terms of buying an art work, an original Moroccan masterpiece. It will look sensational in my home amidst my hand selected French Provincial / Stressed Industrial furniture. The transaction is completed quickly, as are other transactions within the group, and then the group is on its way again walking along more of the Medina’s haphazard crooked streets.
Two hundred metres away I realize I’ve left my iPad in the rug shop upstairs’ office. Panic. Will I see it again? I stop the girls where I am in the group and tell them to make sure the group knows I’ve gone back and to wait. I dread that I am about to get lost as I race around the allies looking for the right door in the right alley. I run into a man from the office, who had been chasing our group, a short time later. He says “you left” in English and shapes a square with his hands in the air urgently. So these people are honest. Good. But I am lucky. He runs off grabs the iPad and returns quickly then I say I don’t know where to go to rejoin the group? He beckons me with broken English and takes me along the labyrinth. I am with a strange Moroccan man trusting he’ll take me where I need to go.
The group have moved along twisting and turning their way towards a tannery. I would be hopelessly lost here on my own. Mohammad had told us to stay where we are if we lose the group, they will return. I’m a little panicked and follow the man ahead faithfully. We have passed many tourists traveling as couples. I’m guessing they don’t care if they get lost as it’s all part of the excitement of visiting this strange, poor yet confusingly beautiful place. The guy knows where he’s going and we soon catch the group up. I thank him and leave.
The group heads along more alleys and turns and the air is so sour and distasteful I wonder if I’m going to vomit. Without meaning too or any warning. The air is thick and horribly uncomfortably pungent. Pig pens make your eyes water, the smell of raw pig excrement and urine, it is a similar smell yet different, I look at the Malay girls and they are pinching their noses tightly as are the others nearby. The locals seem oblivious. As we reach the door of the leather shop I’m wondering where I might actually vomit, and am looking about the alley for an appropriate place.
There, at the door is a man handing out fresh mint. He beckons and holds it to his nose, for the smell he says in his own language. I do as he bids and instant relief. I look at the girls and they are almost inhaling the green herb whole they are breathing so hard through the natural filter. It is a funny sight, an amusing moment as I realize we all must look ridiculous to these people, these locals who know nothing else. This is the air they breathe. It is familiar. It is home.
We climb steep stairs, they are uneven, steep and quite narrow. Up and up we go, several levels, to the leather shop. One room leads to another room, then a balcony. From here we look down on an unusually unique sight. Huge concrete or stone tubs joined together with walkways are in an almost honeycomb like pattern below, all filled with different colours and hues, and young men, in their peak of fitness, are standing thigh deep in coloured die as they lift and move hides in layers in the cauldrons. An overseer or observer dressed in white is off in the shade to the side.
The men are in the sun for the most part, but a smallish building throws a significant shadow over some of the tubs, offering temporary relief from the day’s heat. The workers walk agilely between the tubs on the walkways. It is hot today at 36 degrees.
We leave the leather shop and head on. We past two mosques and the doors are open. They are the domain of men so we are only permitted to peer in the doors. Built in the midst of poverty these building are grand, fresh, and appear as a sanctuary with their gleaming white and different coloured mosaics, and beautiful flowing architectural elements. They seem a refuge from the grind of daily life here.
Another 15 minutes and we magically pop out of the Medina and are on a city street.
Ten more minutes and we are back at the bus. We head to the Blue Gate take a few photos and visit another shop. Then we wind our way back to the bus. We head for the hotel and arrive back at 2 pm.
Lunch was at the hotel today and I sat with the five girls until they left to go to their rooms to have a kip. I caught up on some emails then left a half hour later. I found I had wifi and uploaded images and spent some time talking to some of the group. Not long after, about an hour and a half after lunch, I realized I’d left my camera bag with camera and passport under the chair in the restaurant. My stomach sank to my toes. I raced back to the hotel restaurant about fifty metres away and asked the waitress. She nodded her head so she knew what I was talking about and smiled so I figured maybe they were on to it. I think I was too comfortable here in Morocco. I’d stopped stressing, worrying. I’d been on edge for six weeks traveling. Morocco felt safe and I’d somehow dropped my guard. Well twice in one day? Could I be fortunate a second time? Ten minutes elapsed. I waited patiently whilst the waitress who knew what was happening tried to find someone to explain it in English. We had been told not to get emotional with the locals, to be patient and polite and it would be better for us if there was a situation of difficulty, so I concentrated on being calm and collected outwardly, whilst inside I was a churning mess of anxiety.
The waitress had given my bag to Yusif, he had then put it in his room whilst he’d gone to the mosque to pray. I met Yusif coming back in the door from the mosque a few minutes later and went with him to the door to his room to get my bag from him. Everything was as it should have been when I got back to my room and checked. I was immensely relieved and went straight down and gave the waitress a tip, I would give Yusif a tip later when I saw him next. The waitress gave me a cuddle and i believe she understood what thank you meant when I looked at her and said the words. She gave me a kiss.
The evening out tonight was near the blue gates we’d gone to earlier in the day and was a short walk from where the bus dropped us. There were many people out in the evening air, families, some eating, some just chatting or sitting on seats scattered around.
The Berber evening was run by a family. The night began seated around circular tables in groups of eight. Appetizers started with a beef soup, very tasty. Entree followed with Arabic bread, and eight different bowls of cooked vegetables to share. Beetroot, olives, beans, egg plant, zucchini, something white like cucumber in yoghurt, and two other dishes. Also tasty. Mains was served as the evening’s entertainment started. Beef and vegetables slow cooked. It was very nice as well.
An older family member came out to entertain us first and he was a magician. He was great but spoke little English, and the act was a little disjointed as a result as we tried to fathom what he was telling us. Still his tricks didn’t fail him and we were all mesmerized waiting to see exactly what he’d do next. It was sort of funny and corny, but really very sweet.
The second act was a young belly dancer wearing orange. She was well received and got some of the group up to try the dance.
Four men came out then and played drums and tambourines. They were really good, especially the oldest member of the group.
An older lady was next. Dressed in red like a sparkly cowboy suit, she also wore a green hat. An older family member and a younger lad were next and the older man was wearing a hat with a cord and tassle on it. He couldn’t do much except twirl it round his head but it was entertaining, particularly when he got different people from the audience to put the hat on and try, of course it wasn’t an easy trick at all and there were a lot of laughs. The younger lad made the music to twirl by.
The last act was another belly dancer. She wore deep blue and was very good, saving the best to last. She ended her act with fire swallowing.
The evening finished up after a bogus Berber marriage ceremony with some of our group, David, Mandy and Patti, dressed up in traditional costume, then the girls were paraded around on a large flat basket type chair.
We left for the hotel shortly after the wedding and arrived back late. Big day tomorrow as we drive ten hours to Marrakech.
9:00 am 25th. October – Yusif starts his fabulous dialogue. He has a mellifluous voice. “…..Today is the last day of the Arab year it is 1435 tomorrow is the first day of the new year it will be 1436……it is the Festival of Olives starting today also…….today they do all the circumcisions on the three and four year old boys…..the Moroccans have Saturday’s and Sunday’s off school and the clocks go back an hour tonight as daylight savings comes in…..we are traveling though the Atlas Mountains today……there will be cedar trees…..some of the peaks in the Atlas Mountains get snow from December through to April……Marrakech is the red city, the city of ocher…..the Berber city…..it is a beautiful city…..flags will be flying as we near Marrakech to celebrate the olive festival….ten days ago Marrakech was announced as being the third most popular destination in the world….. many famous movies have been shot in Marrakech, “The Kingdom of Heaven”, “Cleopatra”, “Lawrence of Arabia”…..Morocco’s flag is red and has a five pointed star in the middle…the Berbers have been in Morocco for four thousand years…..”
Today was grueling but wonderful. Up at 7:00 am, bags out by 7:30 am on the road by 8:30 am. We head for Marrakech some ten hours journey. First comfort stop is two hours away well into the Atlas Mountains. The landscape is hilly, at times desolate, other times highly cultivated with crops, trees, settlements. I am so amazed at the shepherds. They sit all day with their sheep as there are no fences, sometimes tending very small herds, sheep, goats and sometimes cattle, donkeys and horses, and it must be a difficult solitary existence.
Donkeys are workers here. They are ladened with pannier type carriers, sacks, the cheap striped bags we buy in Australia from the 2 dollar shops are here, and often there’s one adult and a child or two atop. I’m not seeing any dogs. Maybe they simply don’t use them with the stock? Cattle are appearing and they too need tending as there are hardly any fences anywhere within two hours drive of Fes. This continues all the way to Marrakech.
Our first comfort stop is two and a half hours after we started at a roadside service station. There’s time for a coffee then we drive on by 11:30 am.
The landscape is high in elevation for the next leg as we drive into the Middle Atlas as its called. This area gets snow in winter and there’s no trees, I wonder if there were trees in years past, as it gets cold here during winter and fuel for warmth would have to be a necessity. It’s a beautiful landscape and I discard the too slow iPad today completely as speed is required to shoot from a moving bus. If I didn’t shoot images today using the Nikon whilst traveling I wouldn’t have any photos as we simply did not stop to take photos.
I’m enjoying the drive, and have not dozed all morning even though I’m tired. So many interesting things to see, and it’s quite encompassing, this assault on the understanding of life as I know it. The Moroccan existence is so different to ours, so foreign to me. Fascinating.
There are major panoramas outside and I love what I see in the camera’s frame.
Lunch was pre-ordered today at a luxury hotel. We’d been traveling through poor areas, developing areas, desolate areas, and here, in the middle of it all, is a luxury five star hotel? I had chicken kebabs, Chips and beans with carrots, bread and a tangerine for dessert. And it was nice to get off the bus for almost an hour to enjoy it too. The rest rooms were excellent.
A further two hours down the road and we pass through a hilly region that’s home to a huge dam. Beautiful. Barren. Striking land forms, meshed with the blue of water.
A third stop and we are at a roadhouse that has a market style shop nearby. I am out of Durham. There’s some bangles that catch my eye. Not today. Frustrated.
Our last stop takes us to within seventy kilometres of Marrakech, the soccer is on a widescreen TV at the roadhouse and Yusif and Julian who follow Barcelona, lock horns with Hosea who is a supporter of Real Madrid. Two months ago this all meant nothing to me, today I have visited these soccer cities, learned about their teams and seen the stadiums. The city teams have huge followings and it’s a very real presence for these people in their lives. As we drive towards Marrakech Yusif gives us updates on the scores, the match he been looking forward to for six months he says.
We pass through areas where there’s no grass or cultivation. It’s very desolate. Then suddenly we enter cropping country only kilometres from Marrakech. Olive trees, crops, shepherds with sheep, fruit trees. Irrigation. As we near the city the mud brick houses that have dotted the landscape for the last one hundred kilometres give way to many more buildings built of stone, brick and rendered cement. I am bewildered by the satellite dishes atop the mud brick homes. Poverty blends with affluence in the most extraordinary way here.
The city is filled with buildings all the same colour, and there no raked roofs, the buildings have flat tops. It is as Yusif has said, “…..a red city, ocher.…”
We pass shops and buildings. And here and there we pass crowds of people on the pavement watching the soccer on a single screen inside a shop.
We get to the hotel and it’s a sister hotel of last night’s accommodation called the Zalagh Casbah Hotel, except the rooms are not as grand. The entry and facilities are however, sumptuous and very Moroccan.
We had an included meal here tonight and tomorrow we have a full day with three excursions, one included and two optional which takes us out and about all day. Yusif took some of the group into town this evening. I was going to go, but cancelled last minute feeling like I needed to be more careful, especially after yesterday’s appalling efforts to try and lose all my valuables. Also I struggle at night to get good shots as the ISO is anywhere from 4000 to 6400. Not ideal. Better tomorrow in daylight with ISO of 200 outside and up to 1250 when indoors.
I refreshed my wallet at the ATM, had a coffee and am now in bed ready to catch some z’ds.
11:30 pm 26th. October – The Zalagh Casbah Palace Hotel in Marrakech, the rooms are large and comfortable and the reception area has huge seating areas surrounded in filmy curtains giving a tent feel to the whole area. Again there was silver tea service on arrival and when I came down for breakfast this morning the same woman was serving mint green tea, Morocco’s national drink.
Breakfast was slim pickings this morning. There were dozens of people in the breakfast room for the morning meal and little was left to be had. There was a busload of French tourists this morning and many were pushing in and jumping queue.
The only fruit to be seen this morning is peeled fresh sliced oranges. There’s yoghurt and salads, but I stay away from those, there’s preserves for the fresh hot cakes they are making, a sort of large flat dry crepe-like mixture which is hand shaped then put on a hot grill. But the line is twenty people long and the cook is cooking only eight small ones at a time so I don’t join the queue. The bus will be gone and the scrambled eggs on the plate in my hand will be cold before I am served to get any of those. There’s plenty of pastries and breads. So I select boiled eggs as well, coffee and bottled juice.
The bus headed first for the Marrakech gardens in front of the main Marrakech Mosque. They were stunning, with clipped hedges, palms, topiary trees and plants, and the gem of the show, hundred of rose bushes. We wandered towards the mosque and on the way I see water carriers dressed in traditional costume, I give one a coin and take some photos. He’s happy to oblige now I’ve paid him. The group has a tour photo there with the building in the background.
We walk around a little then head back to the bus which takes us to a walled Medina, a city within a city. We head straight to the palace which is not a residence any longer but we are the first of many groups that will visit here today. Our tour guide for Marrakech tells us that a man does not show his wealth to others in Morocco. Rather he builds a sanctuary for himself and his family. And this is what the palace is.
The garden is very important in Moroccan houses, it is the place were the soul rejuvenates. We walk into gardens at the palace before we get to buildings. This is wealth. Two gardens. One outside the house, one in the centre of the house. The palace is surrounded by a high wall. Not to keep intruders out, the guide says, rather to hide what is within, to keep it private. A man’s possessions hidden. Moroccans don’t like show offs. They like to surprise visitors with their homes. The garden is tranquil, there is flowing water, and the water and plants bring birds. The house has a large front door. Always ornate, but not the most ornate door in the house. The Moroccans believe you should reveal wealth slowly as you progress through the house. The last room should be the best. The roofs are created first in a room. It’s like creating the bones of the structure. How can you build a great house without an ornate ceiling? There is always a central courtyard garden in the larger houses. Often the bedroom is on one side of the courtyard, the toilet on the other so you have to walk through the garden to get to the facilities. Houses are sanctuaries we are told.
There is a very important emphasis on family in Morocco. Parents are extremely important and property will go to those that preserve the family estate rather than those that plan to dissolve it. There was huge debate in recent years in the Moroccan parliament about aged homes. Some were built but they are not used as families respect and look after the elderly. I notice the guides are always assisting the older members on this tour more so than they did on the other tours, and this is why. There’s an 83 year old man on this tour who is traveling with his wife. Many who are 70 plus. The Moroccan guides are always taking them by the arm and watching over them. Guiding them safely along road and up or down stairs.
We leave the palace and walk further into the Medina. We are heading to a pharmacy that makes its own creams and potions using natural herbs and spices. And they are very professional, scanning bar code devices, pots and jars, similar packaging you’d find in any European metropolitan department store. There are a multitude of smells emanating from the room by the time we are done.
We leave, some with oils and creams promising youth and wrinkle care, vitality in the form of an equivalent to male and female Viagra, potions for skin disorders and headache, there’s makeup, kohl eye liner and rouge, also teas and cooking spices, after all, they work with herbs and spices. The pharmacy has made a lot of money this day. And everybody looks thirty years younger immediately.
The trek continues further into the Medina. We are heading for the square in the middle. There are snake charmers and monkeys, beggars and busker’s, well dressed people in native dress charging for photos, street stalls, donkeys, horses and carriages, and people, hundreds of people, both tourists and locals. It is colourful, vibrantly alive, pulsing with activity.
We find lunch in a restaurant nearby, again no salads as it’s too risky. Nobody has been ill so far from bad food on this tour. I’m craving fresh salad and fruit.
There’s a toilet and air conditioning. There’s also a squat toilet. No paper again, I thank my good planning and find the small handbag size lack of tissues I carry with me daily for just such emergencies.
The girls and I start shopping in one of the nearby streets that radiate like bicycle spokes from the square. We have an hour for shopping. We wander along, streets criss cross the one we are on, so we start paying attention to where we are going so we don’t get lost.
We pass a fruit vendor eating a pomegranate. He quickly gets up and breaks pieces of the fruit off the section he has opened into our hands, it’s very sweet, delicious, and Jenny buys a large one to eat later.
The girls are looking for embroidered shirts. Louise mid fifties from Australia bought one earlier and was wearing it today and the girls are all inclined to do the same. I’m looking for jewellery. But there’s no marked prices which means you have to ask.
How much for these? I ask. Which one Madame which one, of course they are all different prices. And then comes the problem. Point to a specific one, not because you want to buy it but because you simply want a guide as to cost and it’s on like donkey kong. Seven hundred Durham madam. No no no. Too much I just wanted to know. How much you pay Madame? You can’t say a figure as in Morocco that’s equivalent to an offer. I found the only way to stop a strong sell after that is to simply offend by saying a figure they won’t consider like 50 Durham. If they agree you win. That way you can usually proceed moving along. I said 100 Durham which is 10€ to a silver and large turquoise necklace. I didn’t want it I simply wanted to gauge prices. I hadn’t seen anything I’d specifically wanted and of course there’s the usual response. It’s silver Madame. No no. Like that explains everything. Their failure to respond further, means they think your offer an unreasonable figure.
We kept walking. I’d started getting some things for the grandies, and was looking for some more as I have five grandaughters and one grandson. I’m sure the argument over these items will be brutal so I’m doing my best to resolve a fight over my purchases before I’ve even gotten them home. I find two belly dancing outfits and cut a deal. How much I ask? That is 200 Durham Madame. But I want two. How much for two? Four hundred Durham Madame. No, not two of that one I want something else. I find what I want but it’s also 200 Durham. No, too dear too dear, I am shaking my head and hands gesticulating wildly rocking open fanned hands side to side in a no no motion. How much Madame? You say? That means make an offer. Two hundred Durham’s. No no one is two hundred, three fifty Durham’s for two Madame. No no I say, too much too much, two twenty Durham’s. Oh madam no three hundred. No no too dear, I reply, I’m enjoying myself, I know we’ll resolve this soon but hopefully at my next figure, two forty Durham’s I offer. No madam two eighty Durham’s. No no I reply that’s my final offer I start to walk out. Madame Madame two sixty Durham’s. Look at the quality it normally is four hundred Durham’s. No no I keep replying as I’m walking out no. I shake my head turning my back. Ok ok Madame. For you, two forty Durham’s. We shake hands and the deal’s done.
The Moroccan people seem surprisingly honest. A handshake is the seal of agreement, I pass over the money, he disappears to get change maybe to the big boss who runs the show, or an adjoining shop with the money to find the right change, then he comes back. The girls catch up and have bought shirts. That was fun. But our time has run out and we have to head back to the group in the square. From there it’s back to the hotel for a quick freshen up.
The excursion this afternoon is into the High Atlas Mountains to visit a local Berber family, whose hospitality we are to enjoy. Zara is to make us afternoon tea. The panorama of the Atlas Mountains stretches before us as we leave Marrakech but there’s a way to go before we leave the city behind.
I’ve noticed two outstanding things in Morocco in my short time here and I ask Yusif who explains my questions to the group at large. Why are there plants outside the nurseries along the road, and shops have their goods outside the shops? They appear as they never lock up or close. Aren’t they worried about people stealing things?
According to Yusif, there is little stealing. No they don’t chop hands off anymore, but it is to do with religion. The shop owners do not worry about the goods, it’s a system of honesty and somehow a system whereby neighbours look out for each other.
My other question was relative to pets. I have seen three dogs. Why are there no dogs in Fes or Marrakech? Apparently dog saliva to Muslims is revolting and requires a cleanliness hygiene process. Dogs are not inside animals and if they sit and saliva drips even outside they find it repugnant so the solution is, dogs are just not a part of Moroccan life. Cats however….
We arrive at a camel rides stop on the way and everyone disembarks for photos. I don’t go riding.
The Berber family show us through their home. It is mud brick and situated on a steep hill abutting the roadside. There are multiple levels. They are family rooms, large with comfortable seating. Tools of daily life are scattered around. A stockpile of small stumps in the corner. They get snow here in the winter. A small garden is between levels. The animals are housed on the lowest level. A cow and a donkey were eating however and had their heads in the food trough so I didn’t manage a photo of either.
On the way here Yusif advises Zara’s husband is looking for another wife, but a western wife this time. Several of us offer to meet him. I look at their lifestyle and decide Bendigo has much to offer.
Zara makes tea the traditional way and it’s delicious. Pancakes, olive oil, honey and butter are brought in. It was a relaxing visit and all too soon we are leaving.
We continue on another five kilometres traveling higher in elevation to the Argon Oil women’s cooperative and are given a demonstration on the properties of Argon oil and we are urged to buy. Before we leave, locals selling jewelry suddenly appear and ply their trade to the tourers as we head back to the bus, and at the bus door. They have followed us from our camel rides stop to Zara’s then the Argon Co-operative on motorbikes. I laughed when I saw the guy who had been urging me to buy trinkets there again. He was if nothing else, persistent. And his persistence paid off as a few of the girls bargained hard for the cheap jewelry. We leave and head back to the hotel.
There’s one more trip out today and we leave at seven thirty this evening. We drop some of the group at the nearby shopping centre as they are not going with us, the rest head back to freshen up.
The night tonight was called “1001 Arabian Nights” and was held at the Marrakech Casino. It was a beautiful balmy evening as we drove up to the front of the casino and headed to one of the outside restaurants which looked like a large Arabian tent. I sat with Anthony, from America. There were small tables of two and three all round a stage.
Dinner began with a particular soup, which must be a national dish as I’ve had this soup three times in Morocco. Next was a slice of chicken and almond pie, which I barely touched as I was pretty much full after the soup. Then we were given a huge serve of cous cous, roast chicken with vegetables. Dessert was pastries and biscuits, I had one of each, then we finished with mint green tea again.
The show was really good. There were many different acts. Four instrumentalists played music whilst we were served and ate dinner.
A snake charmer frightened the life out of us all as he held venomous snakes, a cobra, a rattler and vipers. I don’t know what the pipe music does but it was played loudly and flat out whilst he was handling the writhing creatures. The photos I have are priceless.
Then after mains many acts followed including drum players like in Fes, but twice the number. Men doing intricate moves throwing and twirling batons. Then the desert people, dressed in indigo blue costume, played music and took turns trilling their tongues in the Arabic way.
Drummers followed, twirling the tassles on their caps whilst they played, and acrobats did leaps and jumps to the music other instrumentalists were playing. More acrobats then formed a series of human pyramids that rose quickly to meet the richly coloured, softly curtained roof.
A belly dancer danced beautifully, the best so far, moving with precise movements to the music’s rhythms and then we were entertained by more musicians. Yusif got up and danced at the end. He was really very good too. It was a wonderful night out.
We returned to the hotel by 11:00 pm.
9:30 pm 27th. October – Breakfast was better this morning as I managed to get there early at 7:30 am and I was fourth in the pancake queue. Yay! But very filling so didn’t completely finish the second one. They are like Roti bread, sort of flat but they have elasticity. Delicious with butter and strawberry jam.
The mood on the bus is very flat this morning. There’s some nausea. Those that stopped off at the shopping centre are all well. Of the ones that went to the Casino, many vomited last night and were up with diarrhea. Not good. I feel fine as we leave.
We depart Marrakech for Casablanca and will then travel onto Rabat. The landscape becomes flat. We are heading towards the sea. The area we are driving through to get there is a large food bowl, wheat and barely and other crops. The Atlantic Ocean stretches out before us. It is a gentle ocean today, a jewel coloured the most beautiful hue of blue.
We visit the main mosque. It is a truly amazing building. Breathtaking. Women are not permitted inside and although the doors are open and we are at the opening, it’s just impossible to see anything. The outside is truly stunning, as it sits on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. I run around photographing it from all angles. It is grand. Magnificent. Captivating.
We have half an hour. I get back on the bus completely exhilarated having enjoyed the walk, the beauty, the fresh salty air. Half an hour to create a masterpiece I tell myself, it’s just not relaxing this pressure pressure pressure when you are a photographer and are so inspired by a scene that it takes your breath away and you are on limited time to try to fully capture what you are seeing.
We headed into town at 1:00 pm and are given until 2:30 pm in Casablanca to shop for the last of our Moroccan purchases. Casablanca is the financial capital of Morocco. It is a modern city having been destroyed by the same earthquake that destroyed Lisbon in the eighteenth century so little remains of the old historic centre. It is a modern city and although there’s an Arabic style to the buildings it’s not unlike any Australian city as there is simply little or not much period architecture.
The Moroccan government does not like you to take money out of Morocco, so I set about spending the last of it. Mandy had cut a great deal the day before after leaving the argon oil cooperative with one of the guys that followed the bus on motor bikes selling jewellery when the bus stopped. They then followed us again to sell more at the second stop to the others they had missed at the first stop. I had bought a turquoise necklace beating the guy down from 300 Durham to 100 Durham or 10€ only to find Mandy had gotten three equivalent necklaces for her 100 Durham. I was out of money having changed only 50€ when I got to Morocco, and having given the guy my last 100 Durham for the necklace, so when Mandy got on the bus with a handful of bracelets for 50 Durham or 5€ as well, I asked her if she’d loan me 50 Durham and to get a handful for me from the same guy, I’d pay her back. So I got 1000 Durham which is 100€ out of the ATM last night. I had some money left today after shopping at the hotel’s shop, and paying Mandy back. So I bought some things in Casablanca with it and managed to empty my wallet of Durham’s so they don’t leave the country. I’ve done my bit for the Moroccan economy. Thank you Glenys!
We headed to Rabat after lunch passing by Rick’s Cafe made famous in the movie “Casablanca.” Sickness started to really raise its ugly head on the bus. About half the bus were queasy, vomiting or had diarrhea. My intestines were making lots of noises but I still felt ok. Suddenly one of the ladies ahead raced to the door of the moving bus and everyone yelled out to stop and let her out. She was white as a sheet so Goh grabbed some oil out of her handbag and started massaging it on the ladies’ temples as she sat on the bus steps. It was an Asian remedy for nausea and the lady started to feel better immediately. The bus stopped though and the tour guides reassessed. They would take whoever wanted to go to the hotel as soon as we arrived in Rabat instead of on the tour.
The city tour of Rabat began at the royal palace grounds which are 125 acres in size and have 6400 people living in the grounds. They are beautifully manicured, with lush gardens, trees and extensive open areas. There is also a school in the grounds where the royal family children and Rabat students of excellence attend. We were not allowed to photograph the military or police in Morocco at all the last four days but here we were permitted to take photos of the royal guards. Rabat is the political and administrative capital of Morocco. It has been the capital three times, most recently from 1912 to the present.
We left the royal grounds and traveled to the Mausoleum of Mohammad the 5th. On the way we pass an historic wall which surrounds Rabat’s historic centre where Roman ruins date from 1 AD. No doubt about it, the Romans loved to build in elevated positions, the wall surrounding the ruins is high above the landscape and looks out over the river. Sister city Saleem is separated by the river and can be seen in the distance.
The Mausoleum is stunning. And we are privileged as we are permitted to photograph the Royal Guard at the Mausoleum as well as go inside. It was an amazing building and a Muslim man was inside singing. Muhammad the 5th. was the grandfather of the current king, the guide tells us. The current king is cherished and beloved.
It is 6:00 pm and my intestines are very noisy. I’m thinking I might really like my room about now and a bathroom even more so. I’ve got some Imodium so I take two capsules after my second trip to the bathroom an hour later. I’m feeling fine now though so I’m lucky. Something was off in the meal last evening. Fortunately I ate little of what was the culprit. Others were not so lucky. Only a handful of us head down for the included meal tonight.
Back to Spain in the morning. Wake up is 3:30 am with a 4:45 am departure. Breakfast is from 3:30 am. We have a three hour drive to Tangiers where Yusif will depart. I’ve very much enjoyed his attentive nature, informative recitations and professionalism towards his “guests”. We catch the ferry at 9:00 am and then head for Tarifa, Spain.
Three more nights and I head home. This really has been the most amazing adventure of my life!
10:00 pm 28th. October – Rise and shine at 3:30 am this morning, bags out at 4:00 am departure at 4:45 am. Breakfast was yoghurt. I wanted fruit but there was none. Couldn’t deal with eggs or toast.
I’m tired of paying money to go to the toilet. I walked straight through this morning at the roadhouse and the Muslim woman collecting coins audibly cleared her throat. I hadn’t paid.
You can pay on the way out so that’s what I did, but really? Too bad if you had diarrhea like some on the bus, fossiking in your pocket would be the last thing on your mind. And what if you didn’t have any coins? I guess they’d be happy with notes.
Another hour and we were nearing Tangiers. We arrived in Tangiers at 8:15 am, got our passports and hand luggage and proceeded through customs. Goodbye Africa. I am really keen to go back. Not to Morocco immediately but elsewhere like the Sahara, Egypt, South Africa, I know it’s a gorgeous continent, but vast. So it would probably mean many trips.
The ferry crossing was an hour late as there were last minute stragglers, so we waited in port until ten. Then we headed across the Straits of Gibraltar back to Spain.
Customs here thoroughly checked the bus after we’d removed all luggage. We walked through customs and they simply stamped the passport and looked at us. It was not like customs in Australia. They didn’t ask about carrying food, wood, money or anything else like we do here. They do however concern themselves with illegal immigrants hiding on the bus and drugs though.
Spain hadn’t changed in the five days we had been in Morocco, but it was good to be back where fresh uncooked food was safe to eat. We headed towards Gibraltar, stopping for photos when it came into sight.
Another rest stop two hours on after we had been following the Mediterranean on the Spanish Riviera since Gibraltar. Twenty minutes before stopping however traffic was at a standstill on the Autostrada. There had been an accident, a truck had left the other side of the road and rolled over crossing to our side. Almost all four lanes were closed in the direction we were headed whilst a crane picked up the container and truck and put them on carriers to be removed from the highway. There were police everywhere and it was stop start stop start for about ten kilometres.
Lunch was five minutes later within sight of the beach, as we were elevated on a hill. The air warm and salty, and it was nice to finally have some food that wasn’t questionable.
From our lunch stop we headed towards Granada veering away from the coast.The landscape from Tarifa to Granada are beautiful and the drive is delightful.
Apparently they get snow at Granada in the mountains so it’s one of the few destinations where you can ski in the morning, drive down the road a couple of hours, and surf in the afternoon. Granada has 300,000 people and is flanked by two mountain ranges. It’s a very pretty town.
2:30 pm 29th. October – Today was the last full day of the tour. Our morning began at La Alhambra, Granada and we spent three hours there it was so large. The Palace is Arabic and has amazing intricately carved cedar wood ceilings, as well as carved marble, the detail of which is exquisite. Buildings, water fountains, and stunning architecture, all set in manicured gardens. It was peaceful, serene and tranquil walking through the palace and it’s outbuildings. La Alhambra is considered to be Spain’s principal building, so elaborate is the palace, 200 hectares in size, and all set behind high defensive walls. La Alhambra was a citadel.
Settlement in Granada is recorded as early as 600 BC. There are around 300,000 residents and it is a reasonably modern city.
I visited the cathedral last night when I went walking with Patti and it was a balmy evening, people were out shopping and, like us, enjoying the evening. We shopped for some last minute souvenirs and came across a beautiful flamenco shop filled with dresses, fans, jewellery, shawls, flamenco shoes and hair combs for the ladies, and men’s outfits, hats and shoes, elaborate cummerbunds and scarves for the men. There was even a children’s section with full kits for little girls as well as little boys. It was beautiful, but expensive, so we didn’t buy anything.
We left Granada behind after 12:00 pm and headed toward Madrid. Olive groves everywhere. Spain is the largest producer of olive oil in the world. The two mountain ranges that flank Granada followed us for a while but eventually gave way to rolling hills, cropping and desolate landscapes. I’ve seen a lot of Spain and it is a beautiful country. Very productive. Especially if water is available. We are presently traveling on the Autostrada and the speed limit us 120 kph. The roads infrastructure in Spain is very impressive. There are not the elevated highways, tunnels and bridges you find in Italy but the roads are modern and reasonably level and occasionally cut their way through a hill or mountain in the form of a tunnel. They have literally left the old roads were they lay and old signs, a highway with a red slash through the picture, indicate they go nowhere now.
11:00 pm – We approached Madrid through La Mancha country and Toledo was nearby. We passed the geographical centre of Spain as we came into the city limits and the monument at the bottom of the page was the last photo I took on this trip. I have many photos of Madrid already and this evening I planned to go out with the five Malay girls and just enjoy myself without my valuables on my back or person. When we got to the hotel I first of all arranged a late 6:00 pm checkout for tomorrow, paid 40€ for the privilege then retrieved a suitcase left behind and took it up to the room. My other suitcase from the bus didn’t arrive quickly so I went down and got it as well.
We headed to the girls’ favourite restaurant around 7:00 pm. We shared seven different dishes in the restaurant and it cost us 6,50€ each. It was fresh, tasty and very very delicious.
Souvenir shopping again and the girls went straight to a nearby shop they knew was there. Again, it was bargain hunting. They are all about Tee Shirts and Hats to take home. These girls know a bargain when they find one and guaranteed, if I buy something, each and every one of them asks me the inevitable next question, “how much you pay?” I always got the distinct impression it was their job to make sure I didn’t get “ripped off.” I left the girls not long after, and I figured I best head back to the hotel before it got much later as it was after 9:30 pm. There were, as usual thousands of people in the streets all out dining, shopping or simply walking and again, it was yet another beautiful evening in Madrid. This city is vibrant, alive, pulsing. I really enjoyed being out in it, and I trekked back to the hotel through the maze of streets that were becoming very familiar. I got back to the room and spent the next hour repacking my bags. I pretty much have one suitcase of purchases and one of my own clothes. So I’m a bit concerned. I should have brought only half a suitcase with me, and purchased half a suitcase of souvenirs so I am not sure what the excessive baggage penalty for the extra bag will be, when I take two suitcases through customs.
8:00 pm 30th. October – Woke around 8:00 am and soon went down to have breakfast with the Malay girls as they were leaving around 2:00 pm for a 5:30 pm departure to Frankfurt then Kuala Lumpur. We all had breakfast and they promised they would visit me in Australia. I was quite sad to say goodbye. They were all such good fun and always, always good humoured, and kind, and very happy to include me in their little group when I wasn’t doing my own thing.
I started to get ready to depart Madrid around 3:00 pm. Was completely packed and ready by 5:10 pm and the taxi was ordered for 5:30 pm. It was 38€ for the trek to the airport then I gave a guy a tip of 7€ as he got a trolley for me and carried my bags to the counter, even put them on the conveyor belt. There was a charge for the trolley without help so I added 2€ to it to make sure he got something. There Emirates weighed my extra suitcase and the harsh reality of extra luggage was thus revealed. I was told to take it away to another counter and pay 59€ per kilo, a total of AUD$1691.16. I am surprised. That is at least equivalent to another one way ticket but I don’t get the extra seat. I am very, very, very disappointed. I will complain in writing, and I believe I will probably not fly with Emirates again.
I am presently sitting in the right lounge at the right gate in the right terminal in the right airport in the right city at the right time and am about to embark the plane for Dubai.
I’ve had a ball. Done umpteen number of things and seen some amazing sights of the very wonderful world I am blessed to live in. I have a very short list of disappointments but an exceedingly long list of bucket list items that I think I have managed to truly enjoy.
I hope you have enjoyed journeying through this fabulous part of the world with me. (And I apologise for the pics taken through tinted windows opn this third tour that I have not colour corrected exactly right. :))
For now. Andiamo…..!
#cosmos #cosmosspainportugalandmorocco #cosmostours
DEDICATED TO JACK TOMAMICHEL
The first three tour journals on my new web site Travel Essae are dedicated to my father Jack Tomamichel, a wheat and sheep farmer and a pioneer of the Victorian Mallee. My father didn’t travel many places outside of Australia in his 84 years and his only regret in life was that he hadn’t seen much of the world. He did however leave his mark, in hardwork, devotion to family, living by honourable example and he was extremely generous of spirit.
I had booked the first three tours on this web site before I found out my father had only a short time left to live so I decided to write comprehensive daily journals to him to share my experience, if not first hand, through his daughter’s eyes. I emailed them through to him and my mother Chriss, almost daily. They both enjoyed reading about the world as I saw it and very much looked forward to each daily installment. My mother and father were married almost 64 years.
Shortly after I returned to Australia my father was told he only had a few months to live. He passed surrounded by his family 49 days later.
My father was one of the kindest most gentle people I know, and I am very proud to be his daughter. I miss you dad. Everyday.
Glenys
Essae Photography