Globe Trotting Trio

Some places lend themselves to wandering. Marrakech is that kind of place.
We realized… We are somewhere we have never been.

A perfect mix of Berber + Arabic + African + European. Narrow cobblestone alleyways inside a walled city, inaccessible to cars. Endless twists and turns. The vibrant colors at our riad (traditional hotel with an indoor courtyard) located one block from the chaos of the legendary medina (Jemaa el-Fnaa). Selling: fruit, nuts, spices, raw meat, woven textiles, metals, lamps, and leather. The call to prayer as the sun begins to set. The smell of fresh mint. Ladies painting hands with henna tattoos. Ken swindled by buying $40 nuts and dates. The food! The mosaic tiles! The ornate décor! Iconic arched doorways, the jewel toned colors, metal lanterns, and rooftop terraces. The Bahia Palace, a salmon run of tourists. The Ben Youssef Madrasa, a former Islamic school and photographer’s dream. We loved it all.

We weren’t quite acclimated to Marrakech (our time was too short); we needed another day to get our bearings. But we got by with basic French, directing the taxi driver to the rental car agency. (I’m inspired to take it back up and re-learn French. And we couldn’t be prouder of Everett who was learning Arabic quickly).

Nerves were high as we picked up our rental car – thinking the entire interaction might be “en Francais.” The car pickup was luckily fairly straightforward (in English). In the rainy morning we bought a few essentials (water, toilet paper, snacks) before departing Marrakech, not knowing what to expect in the desert. The city driving seemed confusing and hectic – speedy scooters, donkey carts, and aggressive round-abouts. Ken watched too many YouTube videos about bad rental car companies and police checkpoints, putting us on high alert.

After a windy afternoon crossing the mountains, we relaxed and stopped for a night at Ait Ben Haddou, an ancient kasbah (fortified houses) made of adobe (mud and straw) in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. We visited in the evening after most of the tourists had left, crossing the dry waterway on foot. The wind nearly blinded us. In its tourist shops, oddly, we found more Stars of David than in Poland. We even picked up our first hitchhikers - two American girls - who both spoke Arabic and needed a lift to the nearby town’s taxi stand.

Next, we drove up the curving Dades Gorge, a valley oasis through a plateau of fruit trees. The red sand contrasting against green palm trees made for a stunning view below. That evening and again the next morning, Ken and Everett enjoyed the hotel pool “cold plunge.” Refreshed, we drove up a second canyon, this one the Todras Gorge – with its vertical red cliffs, mountain goats, and coffee (in a cave of course).

Each day we appreciated the Moroccan cuisine flavors more and more: unlimited sugary mint tea (aka Berber Whiskey – poured from as high as one can), tagine (cooked vegetables or meat in a clay pot), couscous, eggplant, dates, heaping (and I mean heaping) piles of olives, and fruit platters. And, to our delight, coffee was served from the back of roadside vans.

We continued towards the Algerian border – encountering dust and more dust. Our guesthouse manager suggested we stop at an ancient underground irrigation canal system. The channels were designed to move water down slopes without pumping. Underground it was refreshingly cool. Mostly we loved our guides (father/son duo) and their entertaining demeanor.

A few hours of barren landscapes... until…

Arriving at the edge of the Sahara Desert, we stared in awe. Seeing the world’s largest desert for the first time (eyes doing tricks?) – an intoxicating magic. It sounds cliché, but it was an experience of a lifetime unlike any other. Imagine driving and seeing mountains in the distance… then realizing… the mountains are sand as far as the eye can see! Nothing will ever compare to this mystifying sight.

We transferred from our rental car to a 4WD to get to our desert camp (it wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes, but our Corolla couldn’t handle the sand dunes). We stayed two nights in a desert glamping tent, albeit the toilet/shower didn’t really work. Nevertheless, we were in the Sahara Desert!!!!! The first evening we rode camels to a sunset spot overlooking the dunes. I have never admired a sunset more.

Everett was a rockstar at sandboarding (aka snowboarding on sand). Ken did surprisingly well too for not being a snowboarder. Dinner was served in a large tent and we enjoyed chatting with the other guests (all Europeans), along with a fire and Berber music.

On our second day, during a hot sandstorm we were lucky to access a hotel pool (where we parked our rental car). We also drove a little south and watched an African drum circle. We went desert shopping (non-stop haggling) and found ice cold Powerade (score!). That evening the boys rode quad (4-wheeler) bikes (yes, Everett had a chance to drive). The sunset was obscured due to the sandstorm and we tried to stay cool that evening, as the dinner tent was scorching hot.

Leaving the desolate dunes of the Sahara, we headed back west but on a more southern route. It was a long day of driving through remote villages – much of our trip was in the car as cities were 4-6 hours apart. To stay entertained: I Spy…. 100 Bottles of Beer… every thinkable version of the Alphabet Game. Ken booked a gorgeous hotel overlooking the palm desert (hmm…funny how our budget magically increased when he reserved the hotel).

We spent another full day driving towards the ocean: argan oil shops on every corner, lots of wild cats, so many police checkpoints, and ridiculous speed limits (desert straight-aways at 37 MPH / 60 KPH ?!?) Larger cities had tree lined boulevards with flower filled medians leading into town, along with either city gates or giant elaborate archways.

After a week in the desert, our car and hair full of sand, we reached the modern beach resort town of Agadir. We again made a last-minute booking at a quaint hotel with kittens and a turtle in the courtyard. Ken went out late in the evening to get us dinner. He drove through the Friday evening chaos – in the dark (no street lights) but with kids popping wheelies in the street, women in black abayas (impossible to see in the dark!) and taxi cabs randomly parked on the road. Upon his return, shawarma in hand, he emphatically stated, “We only drive during the day!”

And we can’t conclude without a word about the people. Humor and humility go a long way here. A “bonjour” or “assalam” with a smile and people are instantly friendly. They have a deeply respectful culture and have been kind towards us. Yes, there was non-stop haggling but it was always good-natured (they loved Ken’s antics and seemed to have “Dad Joke” humor themselves - “Buy turban, it’s good for picture.” “WIFI code very difficult, 12345”). This might be the most family friendly culture we’ve encountered – nearly every shopkeeper gave Everett a hug or fist bump and engaged with him in a positive way. I don’t know if it’s only directed towards tourists, but Morocco could not have been more welcoming.

Now, we have arrived in Essaouira – an artsy (and windy!!) Atlantic coastal city with a lovely beachfront promenade lined with basketball/soccer courts and hundreds of kite surfers out in the distance. It’s Saturday night and I hear seagulls. And call to prayer. And loud Arabic dance music. The trendy city comes alive with a beachy energetic night vibe.

This country has charmed us and captured our hearts. As our trip begins to wind down, we are exactly where we need to be.Leggi altro