The road to Marrakech

The land to the south and west of the High Atlas is barren and arid, as one would expect land that lies next to the Sahara. But there are surprising oasis of green to be found. The river valleys that head southward create verdant stips that are intesively farmed. There is a stark contrast beween the arid hills above, and the thin narrow strip lying in the valley below. Date palms abound, as do the people. Their mud coloured houses cling to the edge of the farmland and valley sides. Intricate irrigation channels divert the water and it is used to farm dates, lucern (for the cows), wheat, maize, corn, apricots, poplars (for lumbar), the odd fig tree, apples, cabage and mint.

Only three colours prevail. The arid brown-red hues of the land and housing, the brilliant blue sky and the vibrant green of the date palms and fields. Other colours only exist in the clothes of the people. White is popular in one place, whilst blue or yellow can be found in another valley. In some areas all the women wear nothing but black. The vistas are spectacular.

From the Sahara we travelled eastward to stay amongst the Berbers in the Todgra gorge (deep, forboding, rocky and spectacular) then the Dades Valley (narrow farmland, with an impressive windy road), then the road of 1000 kasbars and finally Marrakech. The Berbers are all very friendly and rely on tourism for much of their living. Road side stall abound selling distinctive Berber goods. From beautiful plates in shades of rose, yellow, dark blue or emerald green, to jewelery and cloth. Each item bearing the marks/designs of its tribal origin. No longer do the Berbers tatoo their faces with tribal marks. Their craft lives on in their blankets, carpets and other wares. This is what makes them unusual in the Islamic world. No fit Muslim would pray on anything but a plain and undecorated rug.

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We found out about the socceroos' victory whilst passing through the atlas mountains. The bus went wild and our local tour guide was left speachless. The sounds of "three one, three one, three one" was chanted for a good distance. Australian's prowress with the round ball has given us new respect amongst the footy mad Moroccans.

Marrakech

Marrakech is a large city, with surprising wealth and activity. The out skirts are populated with many gardens, including roses to rival those of Benalla. Hotel Ali was our destination. It had much to be raved about in terms of location, but little in luxury. Situated right on the edge of the main square, we were able to gaze out over the crowds from the balcony. The square itself is the highlight of Marrakech for some, whilst the frantic activity of the souk was a highlight for me.

The square itself varies in character during the day. From morning to dusk it is the realm of snake charmers, soothsayers and monkey trainers. The edge of the square is framed by ranks of wagons selling "freshly" squeezed orange juice, whilst the centre is occupied by ranks of food vendors. Sit down and instantly a varied assortment of delicacies will arrive. From olives to calamari, the food is fast and spectacular. Our guide Said prevailed upon us to avoid the salads, but few of the group remained without stomach cramps the next day. Dim's first aid kit of medical supplies proved to be worth its weight in gold. It seems that no one else thought to consult with a travel doctor and get stocked up with the right drugs before departure. I am pleased to say that our own bowels were unaffected.

By night the nature of the square has changed. Small rings of local men gather to listen to musicians. The sound of drums prevails till midnight. Street vendors still remain and beggars are plentiful through out the day.

The maze of markets is reminiscent of Fes, but not as twisty. The large number of stalls was overwhealming, but their produce was not. Available for purchase were slippers (so many slippers), colourful Moroccan dishes, wood work, leather goods, spices, lamps, metal works and bright shiny jewelery (very popular with the girls). We came through relatively unscathed, although I am now lumping several large plates and a complete leather poof for the rest of our journey (perhaps they may break by "accident" and we can leave them behind).

It has been a pleasure gettong to know our many guides. I think that the Moroccans are a very reserved people, slow to share their confidence. I find them to be honest, friendly and delightful, with a keen sense of humour. As the tour has progressed, we have learnt much on their inner characteristics. It is amazing that such disparet groups of origin can form a society with little tension between race or religion.

Time to go, my spelling checker is wearing out and she wishes to have more ice cream (they have Magnum lite here). We leave by train to Tangier this evening, then by ferry to Spain.