| Aren't we an enthusiastic looking crew? |
During the short break between my semesters in Madrid and Nantes, I went to Morocco with two classmates and a girl who is doing a different Erasmus Mundus master’s program. I didn’t really know what to expect and was pleasantly surprised. I had heard about cool beach towns and the desert, but we drove a loop from Marrakesh to Merzouga and back and I was astounded by the geography – snowy mountains, vast plateaus, black canyons and plush oases. Yup that’s right, the first snow I experienced this winter was in Africa - not in Europe or when I was home for Christmas!
I wrote much more than I had planned (it was a weeklong trip {or perhaps to atone for not updating more regularly}), so before I recount the trip I’ll cover some general highlights:
I bought shoes! Aren’t they cute? I learned some valuable economics lessons while doing so. When I bargained for the first two pairs, I didn’t know the actual market value just the price the guy quoted me and how much a friend had paid for a pair on a previous trip. Well, I paid only 6 Euros more for the two pair than she paid for one, so I thought I had gotten a deal. Turns out they should have only been between 5 and 9 Euros each, so I totally got bamboozled, but overpaid by less than others and spent much less than how I actually valued the shoes. I haggled hard over all of my subsequent purchases – my Intercultural Negotiations professor would have been proud.
Nourishment-wise there sure were some tasty treats:
| Lamb with cumin and salt. |
| We didn't eat here. I just thought you'd enjoy knowing how KFC is spelled in Arabic. |
After spending two nights in Marrakesh, we rented a Dacia Logan for 4 days and set off to explore the countryside. The drive to the desert took much longer than expected, so we didn’t make it back east in time to check out Essaouira and the coast, so I guess I’ll just have to go back.
On the way to the desert, during a pit stop in Ouarzazate, the Hollywood of northern Africa, we checked out a Kasbah, which has been used in several films, and its adjacent mellah (the Jewish quarter):
We slept that night in a little town called Tinerher. The owner told us the 4 person room was 250 dirhams and we went to park the car and eat dinner. When we returned he told us he was mistaken about the room price, which irked us all, until he said that it was actually 200 dh a night. The next morning we breakfasted quickly and set off for the desert.
We arrived in Merzouga and were swarmed by guys trying to get us to go to their hotel for the trek. We told them that we had a reservation and turned down a dirt/sand road, but were followed by a guy on a moped. Andrea rolled down the window to tell him to leave us alone, but the man started speaking in Italian. If you ever need Andrea to do something for you, just ask him in Italian and he will comply. Since he drove 95% of the trip, he got to decide things like that, so we followed the motor bike to La Tradition, were the trips offered were nothing like what the moto-man proposed, but we settled on a two hour dromedary trek through the dunes of Erg Chebbi (part of the Sahara) to a campsite, where we would watch the sunset and dune ski/board.
| Translating the deal. |
Camels are not the most comfortable animals, so two hours plus an hour back in the morning was plenty. They are ornery, defecate constantly and sound like Chewbacca, but they do have nice eyelashes.
The sunset was amazing. The sky really Roy G. Biv-ed it up! The stars were also pretty cool, but I’ve seen better… it was hard to stay away from the fire long enough to get a great view, because it was so cold. In the morning, we trekked back to the hotel, showered and headed back west on the low road. We wanted to stay in Ouarzazate, because it was a nice, clean city (it has really expensive looking lamp posts lining the main road)
We got back to Ouarza early the evening, so the guys and I decided to go to a hammam, the public bathhouses, where you get scrubbed down and massaged by a total stranger in front of lots of other women. My French is nonexistent, but that didn’t really matter since they only spoke Arabic. I paid my entrance fee and went into the changing room, stripped down to my boyshorts, ordered a scrub and subsequently had to buy my own scrubbing cloth and argan oil goop, then I was handed off to my attendant, who led me into the steamy room, plopped me down on a plastic mat and doused me with hot water a few times and walked away. I just sat there until the woman next to me gestured that I should continue to fling water on myself my attendant came back after a bit and began spreading the goop all over my body. After I was covered, she grabbed an arm and started polishing me with the scrubbing cloth, which has the texture of medium grit sandpaper. Most of you know that I’m squeamish about walking on a pool deck barefoot, so I was understandably proud that I survived laying face down on the ground of a public shower. It was a little painful, abrupt and out of my comfort zone, but I felt super shiny and smooth afterwards. As I was leaving the women’s changing room, the attendant chased after me and wrapped my scarf (which was around my neck) around my head. I walked back to the hotel and got more attention than usual, I think because I was alone.
TANGENT: In Marrakesh plenty of women don’t cover their heads, but as we moved eastward it became less and less common. I always wore a scarf around my neck in case I needed to cover myself quickly, but now that I think about it, I wonder if that was seen a sort of flaunting my nonconformance to the rules. Like I had a scarf, I just wasn’t using it “properly.” We did go into a market in a small town where there were few women and some of them were in black burqas with neon detailing, so I kept my jacket hood up and tight. I don’t think I was fooling anyone, but it made me feel a little less conspicuous.
After the hammam and a freezing night in Ouarza, we headed back to Marrakesh for some more exploring and shopping. The next day we had a final orange juice in Djemaa el Fna and negotiated a taxi to the airport to head back to Madrid.

Thanks for the commentary to take us deeper into the pix, Caroline. You're gathering raw material for quite a shelf-full of books: Transport Adventures, Food Adventures, Language Adventures, Overnight Adventures, Negotiation Adventures, Clothing Adventures, Sanitation Misadventures, etc! Have you compared your public bath with Tim's Finnish SnowSauna?
ReplyDeleteLive it up--and have a Happy Valentine celebration!
Love,
Grandma Yar