16 October 2014

After a nice lie-in we headed straight to our favo breakie place on the central square for a typical and delicious pancake meal. 



With our stomachs full of sweetness we made our way to the artisanal hall of Marrakech, where lots of cooperatives (jewellery, leather work, tapistry, etc) had shops/workshops. With the stressful experience of yesterday's event still fresh in our minds we enjoyed a more relaxed shopping experience - read: no pushy shopkeepers and no bargaining as all the prices were fixed. After picking up a carpet, leather goods and the best boots Clara had seen we continued on the shopping vibe to the souqs.




After a successful afternoon we headed to the roof terrace of Maison de Couscous for the best couscous of the trip. Polishing dinner off with ice cream and a mint tea we were already longing for our next trip here and headed to bed for the last time in our cosy medina room.

15 October 2014

We woke at a good time to catch an early bus back to Essaouira. We ended up on an overflowing public minibus and got dropped off just outside the medina. Before entering the center of town we picked up some pancakes at a tiny stall and headed straight to our favorite cafe for a relaed tea/coffee. The peace and quiet didn't last long, once we'd set off for a little shopping in the medina. Tempted by the gorgeous carpets hanging outside we headed into a tapistry shop. After a bit of a clumsy bargain, Alby decided it was a good idea to spend 700DH on a 1m² carpet - supported by Clara's naive carpet knowledge.



It was such a great idea that we decided to celebrate the buy with a fresh orange juice whilst the carpet was being repaired to tip-top condition. However, feelings of regret started to torture Alby and the realisation of being 'had' set in. With a story of Moroccan carpet shop vendour quality, Alby headed back to the shop to get back "our only money for the rest of the holiday". After some disagreement Alby emerged victorious and we headed to the bus station for a ride back to Marrakech. Three hours later we arrived at our previous hostel and noticed how much more alive the city was this time. We enjoyed a yummy harira and tajine at the Jemaa el Fna and settled for the night.

12 - 14 October 2014

We picked up some croissants for breakfast and some bread, olives and fruit for lunch on our way to Bab Doukalah to catch a bus to nearby Sidi Kaouki - an idyllic little beach bay, a lot quieter than Essaouira's plage.


Again the only tourists on the local bus, we hopped off and found some beach loungers for the day. We munched our croissants and spent the rest of the day until 5 reading our books, snoozing, nibbling olives and cooking in the hot Moroccan sun. The highlight of the day was having water squirted at us by a defensive octopus we discovered in the rock pools! Sufficiently burned we headed back to Essaouira on the 5pm bus. We showered and watched another spectacular sunset through the sea mist from our balcony before heading to the same eatery as the night before - excellent fish tajine and veggie couscous! After an evening stroll through the medina we retreated back to our room.

Looking forward to a day of chillaxing in the small seaside town Moulay Bouzerktum, we headed to the bus station nice and early. After half an hour of waiting we discovered that the first bus wasn't leaving until 1pm. We decided to head back into town to spend our morning on a sunny terrace slurping juice/coffee and reading our books. We returned to the bus stop, this time armed with avocados and bread for lunch, and hopped on a very full bus towards Moulay Bouzerktum. We got dropped off at the turn-off for the village and walked along the dusty road until we reached the sea.

On first sight, the village seemed quite desolate but soon a few curious inhabitants appeared to show us rooms in their empty surf shacks. After a short wander we tried our chances with one particularly young (max 14 years old) business man, who opened up his father's empty guesthouse for us. As the bargaining developed, we realised this was probably the boy's first bargaining experience ever, due to the peculiar offers he made... "Okay, okay, 120DH for two people with either breakfast or water to wash in". Whilst Alby nearly agreed on a deal without water, we declined his offer and were immediately charged 50DH for our tea (30DH) and toilet visits (2x10DH). His mom arrived at that moment and the teenage business man shrunk immediately back to a shy school boy. We gave him some pocket money, grabbed our rucksacks and headed around the corner to a wiser guesthouse owner. Although he spoke no French, we managed to get a little rooftop apartment with a stunning view on the sea.

Between April and June, this place is the Walhallah for surfers, but today we were the only tourists around. We jumped into our swimming costumes and headed across the rocks to the sea for a paddle and to check out the surfing possibilities. There was no beach here, only a rock shelf which extended into the sea and with big waves, we decided the level was too high for our amateur surfing skills. We headed back to our flat for a bucket shower and a welcome cup of tea. After enjoying a stunning sunset over a big boiling tajine on the open-air terrace, we headed to bed.


Keen on finding some surf we woke early so we could make a swift departure to Sidi Kaouki where the beach is more moderate and accustomed to amateurs like us! After some fresh bread and tea we walked back to the main road just in time for the bus... which unfortunately was completely full and drove straight past! We spent the next hour waiting for a hitch until a friendly lady picked us up and gave us a free ride to Essaouira. We immediately hopped on a bus to Sidi Kaouki where we found ourselves another empty surf hostel and some fresh sardines for lunch. After renting some surfing gear and discovering the free extras (a live cockroach hiding in the sleeve of Clara's wetsuit) we ran into the surf and spent the next three hours in the water.

Exhausted by the shore dump waves we staggered out of the sea and headed straight to the shower. Over a delicious Italian/Moroccan dinner we looked back on a fab day and enjoyed a good mint tea before bed.

10 - 11 October 2014

We headed to the supermarket and the bakery across the road to pick up some tasty goodies for breakfast and set off for the bus station. Half an hour later we were already on our way back to Marrakech after scoring the last two seats on the back row.


After a dusty and windy (!) road through the mountains and lots of car sick passengers we arrived at the bus station in Marrakech. As soon as we'd hopped off one bus, a tout grabbed us by the arm and got us straight onto the bus to Essaouira... again the last two seats! This journey was less traumatic as the road was straights and flat and we arrived in Essaouira at around 5pm. We found a nice hotel at the seaside, a typical blue and white joint just inside the medina walls overlooking the sea and enjoyed an Atlantic sunset from the balcony.



We headed out of the medina towards the port for dinner where we planted ourselves at one of the many fish grill stalls. We shared a plate of fresh snapper, sea bream and calamare before heading back into the medina for an ice cream treat.


We started the next morning with a welcome lie-in and headed to cafe L'Horloge to treat ourselves to a Moroccan pancake breakfast, accompanied by honey, jam and amlou (a Morrocan delicacy which is a mix of aragan oil, ground almonds and honey).

We spent the rest of the morning wandering through the streets of the medina, filled with little boutiques, cafes and eateries. In the cobbled alleyways we discovered Essaouira's typical architecture. Crumbling white-washed buildings with lovely old big wooden doors and roof terraces with ornate steelwork - all a little worse for wear, thanks to the corrosive sea breeze.




In the afternoon we headed to the beach, where we took advantage of the midday sun to read our books and chillax. We wandered back to town via the port, where we enjoyed the sunset amidst local fishermen selling their catch of the day, sea crew fixing their boats and seaguls fighting for the scraps. We found a delicious tajine in a little eatery and headed back to our seaside hotel.

6 - 9 October 2014

After packing away our stuff, we repeated the same morning routine (slurping tea/coffee and munching pancakes on the Djemaa el Fna) before heading to the bus station. In the taxi on the way our driver explained very vividly and slightly manically what exactly is celebrated during the sheep killing festival - although we got the gist, some details were still a bit hazy. At the bus station we managed to buy two tickets on a bus to Azilal, something that was claimed impossible the day before. We spent a couple of hours drinking tea in a nearby cafe bar where a room full of Moroccan men were betting their lives away. By noon we headed to our bus and we spent the rest of the afternoon cruising through the High Atlas.


On arrival in Azilal it took us less than five minutes to find an enthusiastic grand taxi 'fixer' who paired us up with a driver, a rusty Mercedes and four co-passengers, all heading to Tabant. Two hours on a shared front seat later we arrived in Tabant, a tiny village perched in the center of the Aït Bougomez valley.



Luck was on our side, almost immediately we fell into the arms of a local mountain guide and gîte, Abdul. He invited us to Chez Moha, a mudbrick gîte in the village of Aït Imi. After 20 minutes of walking through corn fields and apple orchards we arrived, enjoyed some tea and homemade Moroccan biscuits, discussed our options for the next day with Abdul over a yummie couscous and headed to bed.


As became the routine we were woken at 6am by the local muezzin (and all surrounding muezzins) and after a couple of hours snoozing enjoyed breakfast of fresh bread, apple treacle and olive oil (!). We borrowed Abdul's only map of the area (a battered old millitary map which is apparently difficult to get hold of) and set off for a day of village hopping in the valley. As a good hike requires provisions, Abdul kindly lead us to the village boutique where he shouted to wake the owner for our extravagant purchase of a bottle of water and two packets of biscuits. We left Abdul in Aït Imi and set off along a well trodden path along the valley floor. Passing lush fields of fruit trees, vegetable patches and rows of corn, all irrigated with water from mountain springs - we eventually reached R'bat at the base of a col in the centre of the valley.



Given the abundance of apples it was rare to see anyone without one in their hands, unless they'd just offloaded theirs onto you. Some friendly apple wielding teenagers showed us the path over the col to the next village. Whilst the sun beat down on our heads we zigzagged up the hill past herds of goats and were treated with a stunning view at the top.

We descended the other side until we reached the village of Ifrane, where we topped up on water and sampled the delights of Berber chocolate. We perched on a couple of rocks and munched our goodies in front of the village mosque - like all buildings here also made of mud brick. It didn't take long before we were surrounded by some curious kids to whom we happily offloaded our chocolate. Continuing down the valley we passed through lots of Berber villages and a number of hours later arrived back in Tabant, ready for a well-deserved pot of tea. We made our way back to our gîte in Aït Imi where we were greeted with more tea and biscuits. Pleasantly surprised by the availability of hot water we showered away the day's dust and sweat. Over a dinner of delicious tajine we hatched a plan for tomorrow with Abdul's help who arranged a mule and muleteer for the morning.


After an early breakie - again accompanied by Abdul - we loaded our mule, bought a few snacks for lunch and set off. The path to Igoran started behind Aït Imi and took us via the mountain spring that provides Aït Imi with water. We watered the mule here and after that point the path became narrower and steeper. As the path ascended the valley we wound through dry streams which only become alive when the winter snow melts. Along the way we were mesmerised by stunning views of the valley below and the snow capped mountains around us. Eventually we reached the ridge line and marvelled at the desolate and dusty valley we were to cross.




After descending the rocky top into the valley we rolled out a picknick blanket and shared some bread and tinned sardines with Yessin, the mule driver. With the sun burning on our heads we enjoyed a little break and topped up the mule on grain. We continued our path downwards and ended up following an empty and dried-out river bed in the bottom of the valley. We bumped into friends of Yessin, who invited us over for some tea and bread in their remote little house.



With big chunks of meat drying on the walls we were reminded of the gers we stayed in in Mongolia. After another couple of hours hiking through mud brick Berber villages, the valley floor became greener and we reached our destination, Igoran. Abdul had told us there would be plenty of transport to Kelaa M'Gouna from here the following day but it became clear that the only vehicle leaving the village was going tonight. A friendly gîte owner invited us in for dinner  before deparature and before we'd finished the egg and vegetable tajine, plans had changed. We would be leaving in the morning! Our host made beds on the floor for us with blankets and we rolled out our sleeping bags for an early night.



We were woken as the sun had just started to enter the valley and we were served a typical Berber breakfast - salty rice porridge, olive oil, bread and tea. We packed up and headed across the river where we waited for our transport to be ready. The seats of the minibus we had seen the night before had been taken out and were being replaced with 30 x 55kg bags of walnuts heading to the market.



After half an hour of loading we were ready to go and hopped in the front seats (with another passenger squashed in the back on top of the walnuts). We were pleased we didn't end up doing the journey the night before as the van drove up the terrifying winding and steep unpaved path.




It took us four hours to cover 100km of hills, mountain passes and dry gorges before we reached a hot and dusty Kelaa M'Gouna. After a welcome lunch we decided to continue our journey to Ouarzazate by grand taxi. On arrival we found Hotel Royal easily, a laid back place to spend the night. After a good shower we enjoyed a pizza on a terrace and went to bed.

4  - 5 October 2014

We met in Gatwick's departure lounge where Alby found Clara dazed and confused after a stomach wrenching Easyjet flight from Belgium. Luckily the flight to Marrakech, a good 3 hours away, was quite a bit smoother. We arrived at 8.30pm and after bargaining hard with a taxi driver who justified his high price with an explanation of tomorrow's sheep-slaughtering national holiday (yeah right, we've heard them all now) we reluctantly gave in and were dropped off close to the Djemaa el Fna. We had booked ourselves a cosy little room in Hotel Sherazade, a colourful guesthouse in a side street 2 mins from the main square.


We wandered the narrow winding alleyways of the medina to find our riad, dropped off our luggage and headed straight out for our first Moroccan dinner. We wandered past the orange juice stalls, popular snail chefs, an enthusiastic group of Gnawa musicians, sad tourist pleasing monkeys on chains and a myriad of try-hard street restaurateurs all touting for our business!


The fact that Alby was wearing glasses and came from the UK provided the perfect ammunition for Harry Potter based jokes. We settled on a friendly stall and enjoyed our first bowl of Harira of the trip accompanied by fresh olives, bread, grilled vegetables and chillies. Washed down with a glass of mint tea we headed to bed with the plan to leave for the High Atlas the next day.

The reason for the low price of our room became apparent at 5am when the local muezzin began his call to prayer from the roof top of the mosque next door. After a couple of hours of snoozing we found a delicious breakfast of Moroccan pancakes, honey, fresh orange juice and yogurt on a surprisingly empty main square. After breakfast we wandered through the medina and discovered that the taxi driver was right after all: around the next corner we were affronted with a scene that caught our eyes and nostrils by surprise. Supported by four piles of bricks and above a layer of burning coals lay bed springs, holding a dozen chared sheep heads!


We wandered through the empty medina for the rest of the morning. The closed shops, carts full of fresh sheep skins and blooded T-shirt Moroccan men proved that killing sheep was top priority for today.


On our way to the tanneries we walked past countless burning fires before a quick visit to the leather dying ponds (also closed for the holiday!). We lost track of time and headed for a late lunch in a busy (one of the only open) eatery. Some time later we made our way to the Bahia Palace where we briefly marvelled at the beautifully tiled courtyards before closing time.


We caught a taxi to the bus station only to be told a couple of classic rip-off storiers ("there aren't any buses going to Azilal tomorrow, you'll have to go to Essaouira", "oh, a grand taxi to Azilal will cost you 800Dh toomorrow because of the festival") so we decided to hedge our bets and return in the morning. We spent a relaxed evening drinking tea, reading our books and enjoying a good soup on the Demaa El Fna before heading to bed.