We woke to road closures, school delays, and icy roads, the aftermath of yesterday’s sleet, snow, and rain. The sun took care of all those problems …lucky us!… before we headed to the airport at 2:00 o’clock.

Our luck continued when Dan was upgraded to business/first at check-in and I got the last upgradable business/first seat as we were boarding! We flew out of Dulles and connected through San Francisco. I enjoyed cocktails, dinner, and movies (Mama Mia and Seagull) on the first leg while Dan ate, read, and napped in his lie-flat bed.

Due to smoke and haze from the California wild fires, our departure out of Virginia had been delayed, so we arrived in San Francisco with just enough time for a quick stop in the restroom before going to the gate to board. Our large, comfy seats came with a menu, slippers, two pillows, a blanket, an amenity pack, and a comforter. PJs and mattress pad upon request. Happy dance! Flight time: 12.5 hours.

Since it was 3:30 in the morning on the East Coast by the time we left San Francisco headed to Auckland, I decided to go right to sleep. I committed then and there to keep my eyes shut for seven hours at least no matter if I was sleeping, napping, or just plain resting. I set myself on this course as Dan was ordering a full blown pork dinner.

I woke up at something like 10:30 a.m. Virginia time (4:30 a.m. New Zealand time) and decided to freshen up, catch a movie (Book Club), have breakfast, and begin my trip book, Gwenna the Welsh Confectioner, which takes place in Auckland at the turn of the 20th century.

From the time we left the house until we landed (9:00 a.m. local time) was about 25 hours! We became time travelers when we magically lost a whole day by crossing the International Date Line (established in 1884) just east of New Zealand. To complicate things further it is 18 hours ahead of us. Being in the southern hemisphere the seasons are opposite of ours, so we left in our fall and arrived in their spring.

We arrived in Auckland right on time after two fun, flawless flights. The airport is small by our standards, easy to navigate, and the baggage was waiting for us by the time we got to the carousel. We took the shuttle (NZ$17.50 each) to the hotel, had a welcome cup of coffee, settled into our cute corner room with its wraparound balcony and water view, and then went out on a hunt for a fish (trevally) and chips lunch. Partly cloudy and 72 degrees. After lunch we strolled Queen Street, the main shopping street, which has all the big name stores as well as souvenirs shops and restaurants. We even found a grocery store which we enjoyed isle by isle.

The reason we are here is to catch a cruise. All planned by our friendly, indispensable cruise director, Hettie, who walked us through everything from the airport shuttle to the hotel to the visa we’ll need when we dock in Australia. She and Ronnie arrive tomorrow morning from Baltimore and our other cruise buddies, Cleone and Walter, have been in country for over a week and will fly in from South Island and join us for dinner tonight.

FUN NEW ZEALAND FACTS

It is comprised of two large islands (North Island and South Island), one small island,  numerous much smaller islands, and a 414,000 acre slab of Antarctica.

It is roughly the size of Colorado.

It is the same distance from Australia as London is from Moscow
and the same distance from the equator as Buenos Aires.

One New Zealand dollar (NZ$1) = US$0.67. Nothing but love for that rate!

They drive on the left side of the road.

 

 

 

Before we left home we got an alert from TAP airline saying they were changing their early morning fight to Lisbon to an afternoon flight as of TODAY apparently, which means there was no way we could get there in time to make our connection. Long story short, while the rest of the group rallied in the lobby at 3:30 this morning, no doubt wondering why they had bothered to go to bed at all, we snoozed comfortably in our bed. We managed to make it to breakfast by 9:00 and then Dan decided to make the most of his few remaining hours in country and WENT SHOPPING! I stayed behind to work on the blog knowing full well he could manage on his own. He returned twenty minutes before time to head to the airport with ANOTHER rug (a runner that matches the large rug) and a huge bowl! We were already maxed out on our carry-on and checked bags, so what to do? He crammed the new runner in the extra duffel Barb had bought here in Morocco and left with us to take home for her (we were one checked bag short) and decided to take his chances with three carry-ons: the big rug, bowl, and his backpack.

We got to the airport three+ hours before flight time and were glad for the extra time. Chaos reigned in that we couldn’t find where to check in; we had no idea we needed to fill out a form in order to leave the country; passports were checked three times, and we had to queue up for two luggage scanners. All the while wrestling two large suitcases, two backpacks, three duffles, a big bowl, and a 6’ x 9’ rug. What are we…..crazy? Even with a luggage cart we looked like we were filming a what-not-to-do public service clip.

Once in the air it was a quick one hour to Lisbon. Then the luggage juggle resumed as we went through immigration, got our luggage, took a cab to the closest Holiday Inn, and eventually hauled our bedraggled collection of new treasures and dirty clothes to our room. After a shared sandwich in the lobby bar we headed to bed. Up at 6:30. Cab to the airport at 7:30. Flight at 10:30 after an exhaustive search for the United check-in desk; multiple passport and security checks; and a successful breakfast feast made up entirely of the Portuguese pastries I love so much. We connected through Newark, so we had to do the luggage dance one final time before rechecking our bags and flying on to National Airport.

Cyd, who was laying over for a couple days, and Dan’s sister, Deb, who had been house sitting for us, met us at the airport and took us home to a delicious home-cooked meal. The perfect end to a perfect trip that had met or exceeded our expectations in every possible way! We loved it from start to finish.

Wake-up call: 6:00. Depart: 7:30. A bit ambitious after the fun day and night we had yesterday. The atmosphere in the small, designed-like-a-cave dining room was a bit frenetic just like yesterday and almost comical in that the waitstaff seemed to be overwhelmed by the guests’ request for simple things like water and coffee. In that guests are the mainstay of their business, the friendly inefficiency seemed odd.

There are three main routes back to Casablanca. Safi decided on the most inland route in order to avoid the construction and road repair caused by the damage from rains of the previous weeks. During the six hour drive to Casablanca we were treated to rolling fields in the various stages of cultivation, argan trees, rock fences, a tractor of all things, and other scenes familiar from previous days on the road. We saw more horse drawn conveyances than before. Two scenes stand out above the rest: Trusty mules with saddle bags waiting patiently at a public well while their owners loaded containers with water was our favorite scene until we spotted one cow on a narrow foot path followed by one donkey, a man, an adult dromedary, and finally a baby dromedary bringing up the rear. Presumably headed for home. They were all going about their day just as we were.

Lunch was at a spotless, new, nondescript gas station and restaurant along the highway. Just like at other roadside stops, all the food was cooked to order. There were easily 100 single serve clay tagine in the outdoor part of the kitchen waiting to be used as well as two huge clay ovens where fresh bread was being baked.

Much to everyone’s surprise and delight Safi asked out of the blue if we wanted to watch Casablanca. An enthusiastic yes was the consensus which I imagine he anticipated. We drew the curtains and watched the movie centered on the city we were fast approaching. Clever touch Safi!

The movie ended just as we approached Casablanca. Our first order of business was a cursory city tour. Cyd, Barb, Dan, and I were so glad we had previously had two full days in town because there was just not enough time left to see and appreciate the city properly. We especially enjoyed two stops. First was the relatively new (1956) Notre Dame de Lourdes Catholic church with its two long walls of non-stop stained glass windows. None of us had ever seen such a thing. It was awesome! This stop afforded us the opportunity to light a candle in the intimate grotto for Josie’s Great Aunt Jerry. The other fun stop was seeing the outside of Rick’s Cafe.

FUN FACTS ABOUT RICK’S CAFE
Spoiler: there never was a Rick’s Cafe.
With the exception of one scene, Casablanca was shot in a California studio
and was not based on a real gin joint in Morocco.
The popular restaurant of the same name, designed to recreate the bar made
famous by Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, opened in the spring of
2004 in a traditional 1930’s riad. Whaaaaat?

My favorite meal of the whole trip was at our farewell dinner on the 28th floor of the Kenzi Tower Hotel overlooking the whole of Casablanca as well as the Atlantic. Everyone was feeling well and in a festive mood and the meal and service were fabulous! Barb and I decided to bedazzle our companions by wearing our scarves to dinner. Not only did we shower and don our last clean outfit, we tied our blue scarves in the tribal way and surprised everyone. Cyd’s hair looked too nice to cover up, so she wore her scarf like a shawl and completed our trio of show offs. I kicked it up a notch with one of my four new necklaces, only pair of new earrings, and my Berber bracelet.

In spite of a very determined wind, which the area is know for, we all loved the vibrant laid-back, artsy port and resort town of Essaouira, situated on the Atlantic coast.

Our day started with a city tour led by one of only two lady guides in town. Seems men dominate this field as they do most others in Morocco. Our guide was very knowledgeable and had a great sense of humor. We started by strolling to the harbor where we visited the eighteenth century citadel and enjoyed terrific views of the sea, city walls, town, and colorful fishing port with its insane number of enthusiastic gulls. Almost all the small fishing boats were painted a beautiful blue. Combined with the fishermen and their piles and piles of nets it collectively looked like a live picture postcard.

Our guide reminded us that Morocco was one of the countries (along with Algeria, Tunisia, and Libya) whose pirates and slave traders dominated the Barbary (or Berber) Coast from the 16th to the 19th century. The stuff of legends.

When asked about the abundance of well fed, content, healthy cats we saw everywhere, she explained that they were originally imported to kill plague causing rats. The notch in one ear indicates the city has neutered them. They roam the city freely and are fed by anyone and everyone. As usual, we saw few dogs.

Essaouira has a vibrant musical past, thanks in part to the easy accessibility of hashish, and proudly boasts of having hosted the likes of  performers likes of Jimmy Hendricks, Cat Stevens, Frank Zappa, Paul Simon, the Rolling Stones, and Jefferson Airplane. Murals, paintings, and signs are evidence of the pride the town takes in their love of music. It still hosts an array of music festivals to include classical, jazz, and gypsy and flamenco-based. There were no festivals in town when we were, but we saw numerous eager performers in full swing playing on the street.

Besides music, artists have been drawn to the area. We visited a shop that specializes in silver filigree jewelry. Apprenticeships begin at 12 years of age. Girls are welcome for a change. Surprise of surprises, I did not buy a single thing.

Once the walking tour was over, we were uncommitted for the rest of the afternoon. As it turned out Cyd, Barb, and, I, intent on roaming around to see what fun would fall in our path, had one of our favorite afternoons of the whole trip. Mixing it up with four random strangers was the backbone of our delightful, laugh-fill afternoon.

Character number one was Amin, a cute, young guy who caught our eye no doubt because he had beautiful teeth (a rare thing here), dreads pulled off his face, and a hoodie with the word Brownies printed on it. We ran into him four or five times during the afternoon and ended up finding out that he is a musician. (He had two gigs later in the day and …wait for it… we were invited to drop by.) At one chance encounter we caught him smoking and told him to cut that out right then and there. He laughed and did as he was told. On a role, we told him to quit smoking altogether. He loved practicing his English which was miles ahead of my French, so we easily settled on English. Amin gave us advice on a music store, an herb and tea shop (his uncles’s I think) and a tip on a Berber jewelry store only open a couple days a week.

Barb was in the market for a flute; no cobras, just a flute. Character number two was the proprietor of a musical instrument store we happened upon. YouTube needs to come calling! He was a small man with a huge, friendly smile dressed in the native hooded robe and a knit cap. He made up a little ditty on the spot centered on each of our names and said we were free to take his picture or a video if we wanted. He danced along to his songs while accompanying himself on a tambourine. He told us we were all young and beautiful. We said we knew better than that. What a little salesman! We overstayed our welcome, insisted on multiple demonstrations of the different flutes, and had a fabulous time. Barb decided on one made of local tauya wood with cow horn at the end. She paid half the asking price. He insisted he wanted her to have it no matter his financial loss because he really liked us; we had great smiles; and we seemed so happy. The bargain was sealed with him hugging Barb, our resident magnet for the hugs and kisses!

Character number three was a tall drink of water with two teeth in front who talked as fast as a snake oil salesman. We found him hard to understand but enthusiastic and delightful. He totally worked us, although we didn’t realize it until an hour into a royal tea demonstration. Where are we from? We bought the flute from a good man. Do we like tea? How long are we in Morocco? Before we knew it we were answering his questions while seated on cushions in Amin’s uncle’s shop waiting for boiling water to arrive for the tea. It would be a shame for gals who are way off the Wonderfulness Scale to leave the country without understanding royal tea and so on and so forth. We had a terrific time, drank delicious tea, and learned a lot. An hour and a half later he was mixing tea for us to take home. What could we afford? We asked the price. Don’t worry was the answer. Then we were each handed a bag of hand mixed tea valued at $40 per bag! Barb said she spent the last of her money on the flute (true) and couldn’t buy any. I decided to take one for the team and forked over $40 without even bargaining. Cyd said she didn’t have $40 and gave him $30. I’d say he had a good afternoon!

Character number four was at the Berber jewelry shop only open a couple days a week. At our request Amin showed us the way. It was a beautiful shop with fabulous antique Berber jewelry as well as new Berber jewelry. I took a liking to a new bracelet and offered one third the asking price with the caveat that I understood a fine piece like that could never be sold at the price I offered, but that was all I had. We left the shop with me saying I hoped I had not insulted him. He said no, no, no, it is just the way of business; never apologize for making an offer. We left and three seconds later he came after me saying OK, OK, he could let it go for $10 more than my offer. I said it was a deal if we met in the middle. He took my hand and we walked hand-in-hand back to the shop. So fun.

To celebrate our spirited afternoon we decided to have hot chocolate at a place near the water that is known for their twist on this rich beverage. And rich it was … like chocolate pudding just before it sets up. Whoa! We laughed at our purchases and how we got taken on the tea all the while enjoying the traditional music of a street musician singing and playing the liar.

We had a light dinner that evening in the courtyard of the riad where we were staying. Safi had arranged for music, traditional dancing with audience participation, and henna painting for anyone interested. Barb and I  hustled right over and got scroll work on our hands.

I decided to play it safe with my OK but at the same time unsettled stomach and eat a light, stomach-friendly breakfast of water and banana while others were busy grazing the huge breakfast buffet.

We had two fun adventures today. The first was taking a cooking class at the Lotus Chef, a women-run cooking school inconspicuously tucked away in the Old Medina. It was a first class experience and very fun. Our lessons started in the beautifully tiled courtyard of the riad with an explanation of the spices prevalent in Moroccan cooking: herbs like onions, garlic, parsley, and cilantro; locally grown saffron; sesame seeds and almonds; olives and preserved lemons; and spices like ginger, pepper, paprika, cumin, cinnamon, bay leaf, coriander, and turmeric.

Once that tutorial was over we watched a Saharan tea ceremony artfully executed by an enthusiastic fellow seated on a cushion. He was skilled in pouring tea into our small glasses from a distance as high as his arm was long. I decided to call it the ‘high pour.’ We had seen it many times by then but remained amazed that tea is not poured everywhere but in the small glasses. Quite a skill. In place of stirring, tea is poured from on high into a glass and returned to the pot twelve times and then returned to the heat to warm it for drinking. Sugar is added before all the back and forth begins. It was explained to us that performing a tea ceremony is a social event which allows time for conversation.

After the tea ceremony we were shown how to make the traditional flat bread that we had eaten in restaurants and seen sold on the street.

With all these formalities out of the way, we donned aprons and were assigned to cooking stations. We each had our own station as well as access to a TV monitor, so we could watch each step demonstrated. Chicken tagine was the main event. Once we had ours simmering away, we turned our attention to two side dishes. By the time the bread was baked in a clay oven on the roof of the building and the courtyard was set up as a dining space, our meal was ready. Everyone dug in enthusiastically and decided ours had turned out as good as the ones we had eaten at local restaurants. I say we, but I mean they since I stuck with tea and bread with a Pepto-Bismal chaser. I felt great but did not want to take a chance. We each left with a diploma, recipes, and a chance to purchase an apron.

FUN FOOD FACTS
There are three types of tagines: unglazed, glazed, and ornamental.
Couscous is typically only served on Friday.
You can arrange for a restaurant to cook a meal you have prepared at home.
Romans introduced pepper to Morocco.
Arabs introduced other spices in the 7th century.

Our second adventure today was visiting an argan oil cooperative between Marrakesh and our seaside destination of Essaouira. We drove out of Marrakesh through beautiful neighborhoods with wide roads, pretty street lights, and American and European stores. We were soon in the country enjoying views of beautiful fields being plowed by mules and donkeys. Adults and children alike waved at us as we passed. As we approached groves of argan trees, which look a lot like olive trees and are endemic to Morocco, we hoped to see goats climbing them to feast on the fruit, but sadly  it was a little early in the season for that.

The women’s cooperative we visited, Cooperative Marjana, processes the fruit of the argan tree the old fashioned way from start to finish in order to give employment to women who would otherwise have difficulty finding work. Think lucky-to-have-a-job meets tedious and repetitious. Here’s the deal: the fruit of the argan tree is small and has a thick peel which covers the fleshy pulp. When the time is right, one group of women cracks open and discards the thick peal leaving the pulp. This is done by resting a single piece of fruit on a large stone and wacking it with a small stone. Next the pulp has to be removed to expose the hard-shelled nut. Again one by one. Then the nut is cracked to expose one to three oil-rich kernels. Bingo, that’s what we’re after. Once the kernels are retrieved they are roasted or not, depending on if they will produce oil for cooking or cosmetics, and then the oil is extracted. Toward the end of the production process the ladies manipulate what looks like globs of peanut butter that eventually produce the oil. It is easy to see why it is an expensive oil no matter how it is used. Of course we stopped in the gift shop before boarding the bus.

FUN ARGAN FACTS
Remember I mentioned we hoped to see goats in the argan trees, but we
were a few weeks early? Welllllll, get a load of this. Morocco’s famous goats,
who love to climb high into argan trees to eat the fruit and leaves, were traditionally used to speed along the first step of production … the ‘crack open the thick peal to expose the pulp’ step.  You see, the goats can’t digest the fruit, so they eat it and poop it out undigested but partially broken down and much easier for the ladies to crack open.
I kid (no pun intended) you not!

Argan is one of the world’s priciest edible oils
with a liter costing around $130.

After pictures, videos, questions, clarification on the goats, and shopping, we boarded the bus for the quick ride to the small, cute, seaside resort of Essaouira. Hotel Dar L’Oussia, our home for two nights, is a charming riad built around a beautiful blue and white tiled courtyard. Two hand towels folded in the shape of swans were beak to beak on our bed with red rose pedals scattered on the pillows. In spite of all this charm and heated tile floors, we had to giggle when we saw the chest-high window in the shower that looked out onto the common area. In spite of our potentially compromised privacy, no one could argue that we had had another wonderful day!

 

After the sumptuous hotels we’ve stayed in so far we were all surprised by the Motel 6-esque rooms at the Le Meridien N’fis. We decided beautifully landscaped grounds, great water pressure, peppermint shampoo, a fabulous downtown location, large rooms, ample hot water, and a giant breakfast buffet that included cucumber, carrot, and beat juice made up for how plain the rooms were.

Although we had two full days in Marrakesh, our wake up call on day one was early: 6:30. Objective: to beat the crowds to Jardin Majorelle, one of the most popular sites in Marrakesh. French painter Jacques Majorelle spent 40 years creating this small garden and filled it with plants from all over the world. Yves Saint Laurent and his business partner, Pierre Bergé, bought the garden in 1980 and spared no expense restoring it. Two surprises: how small it is and it is painted in astonishingly vibrant primary colors.

The Koutoubia Mosque is the standout landmark in Marrakech. Its minaret, 253 feet high, was completed at the end of the 12th century and is the tallest structure in town. We used it to get oriented when walking around the square.

Speaking of the square, it is a wild place! that has successfully combined the latest and greatest with the iconic. The narrow alleyways running off the center  are so narrow they can only accommodate handcarts and donkey drawn carts. There are snake charmers with cobras and vipers either in baskets or on the warm stone, monkey handlers, water sellers, and henna painters. We all watched in amazement as the snake charmer took pictures with Barb’s camera (for a price) and played the flute while the cobra fanned out its round head on cue. We all had goose bumps just watching. We kept our distance from the monkey handlers for fear they would be too fast for us and before we knew what happened a money would be on someone’s head. At night all this fanfare transitions into a lively gathering place where people enjoy music, food, drinks, and one another’s company.

Bahia Palace, with its 360 rooms, was an enjoyable stop. Reputedly built as a home for Ba Ahmed’s official concubines, it has beautiful tile work, carved plaster, marble, stunning wood ceilings, and large courtyards with fountains. We had seen, up to now, mostly the iconic diamond shaped tiles; here there are lots of floral designs as well.

Dan and I enjoyed a carriage ride one evening. Well, maybe change ‘enjoyed’ to ‘found interesting.’  You see, the carriages are treated as cars and can go pretty much anywhere which means we were trotting along next to cars, motorbikes, bicycles, and buses. We entered and exited roundabouts with the best of them. It was chaotic, noisy, and put us up close and personal with a lot of exhaust fumes. Our destination, in contrast to the ride, was at a breathtaking dinner!

The main entrance to the restaurant, Lotus Privilege, was being renovated, so we were taken in the back way which, actually, looked a bit like a war zone in that it was a walkway with lots of rubble. Seriously, it looked like a set-up, the kind where someone jumps out and mugs you while saying, “got cha … got cha good!” First we washed our hands in the courtyard. Warm water poured from a silver kettle was used for rinsing. Welcome music with a little audience participation (think Barb) followed and then we were seated at beautiful tables. Menus were rolled up and adorned with ribbons; elaborate caftans were framed and hung on the wall; large, punched silver light fixtures hung above our heads. It was stunning and the meal was delicious. After the meal we were treated to two sets of traditional music and the gyrations of a beautiful belly dancer.

We decided rather than to spend a second day exploring the city, like other big cities in many ways, we’d head out of town. Destination: the Ourika Valley, in the foothills of the High Atlas 35 miles out of town. It made for a relaxing, easy day. Moroccans vacation here as well as European celebrities (think Mick Jagger). The Yves St Laurent Foundation supports schools for girls in the area. We toured the Jardin Bio-aromatique d’Ourika and were served a delicious al fresco lunch under the trees. Before lunch we were each treated to a Berber foot bath which we loved. Picture a row of wooden chairs approximately two inches off the ground. Right in front of each chair is a small, rock-lined pool built into the ground. Each pool has its own tap for warm water. Once the pool is full, herbs of a relaxing nature are added to the water. Here’s the challenge: situating yourself  on the chair in front of the pool of water. Our efforts made us laugh. After the 15 minute soak it was time to haul ass up and out which was even funnier than getting down. There is a steel bar in front of each mini-pool, so the confident among us straddled the pool and pulled themselves up. The faint of heart sort of rolled off  the chair and crawled around before getting up. Again, we laughed shamelessly at each other’s expense.

We were back at the hotel mid-afternoon and enjoyed a little downtime before heading to dinner at a very successful restaurant run by a women’s cooperative.

Since Cyd and Barb’s bad night in the camp, others have had problems. I’d say 15 +/- of us have been slowed down or completely stopped by stomach issues. My system has threatened to revolt. Dan and Cleone made quick recoveries. Hettie, Walter, and Ronnie have held strong.

Before finishing our ride over the mountains we visited a UNESCO site near our hotel: the ksar of Ait-Ben-Haddou. This ksar (fortified city) is know for its burnt red earthen architecture dating from the 17th century. It is mainly a crowded, interconnected group of dwellings. It was a favorite of mine (just to recap: along with the leather dying vats and the deserted old wells). The visit amounted to getting across a small, low river by bridge or by stepping from one strategically placed sandbag to the next before an easy hike up through narrow alleyways eventually ending at the top of a bluff where an old granary was situated. The views from the top were wonderful. Parts of Lawrence of Arabia were shot here, by the way.

We shopped on the way down. Dan chose two small pill boxes for his collection and turned it over to me to bargain. The salesman asked $20 for both … I offered 5 … he was insulted … I produced the 5 … he said 18 … I paid $7 total. The box guy smiled, shook my hand, and said I bartered like a Berber. Full of myself after what I assumed was a Berber compliment, a necklace purchase went much the same. The salesman started at $20 and I paid $6. I also bought a polished stone ball. Asking price was $10; I paid $2.

Dan had his only disappointing meal of the trip: milky spaghetti drizzled with a hint of tomato sauce with mystery meat on top. He envied me my chicken kabobs which were served with rice, fries, well done veggies, and baba ganuche.

Our drive over the 7,400 foot mountain pass offered varied landscapes along a road that vacillated from having two lanes to three to an optimistic one and a half. As a matter of fact, it had been closed for snow two days prior. We applauded our driver for managing so well on the narrow roads that for the most part had no guard rails. In places we had to stop to make room for another large oncoming vehicle. No matter the width of the road, vendors were set up at every conceivable pull off. No sooner had we stopped to enjoy the view and …boom… we were approached with things they assured us we could not live without. Sometimes they were right.

We passed walnut and juniper trees, terraced fields, barren mountains, prickly pear, laundry laying on the mountainside to dry, stacked stone houses, and of all things a double decker livestock truck with cows on both levels. After a particularly long stretch of arid countryside, we came around the corner to a dazzling Ireland green as far as the eye could see. The beautiful green was from the baby wheat and barley growing in all the fields. As usual, we were always on the lookout for the cute little donkeys and mules working their little hearts out.

We had a fun run in with dogs at one comfort stop. Four dogs came lopping off the mountain when they saw us get off the bus. They just sat patiently nearby and looked up at all of us. No barking or jumping or tussling with one another. Who could resist? I started separating the cookie part from the chocolate centers of treats I had intended for myself. The little beggars were so cute and patient with how slowly I executed my task. Like all the dogs we have seen, they looked healthy and well fed. A surprise for a cat-loving society.

Some one had recorded Marrakesh Express and asked the driver to play it as we approached our destination. We were the right generation and knew some of the chorus although no one admitted to having hopped on the Marrakesh Express (think hashish) back in the day.

FUN FACTS
Moroccans are very comfortable being touched. There is a lot of two-cheek kissing, hand shaking, shoulder squinches, casual touching, and pats on the back. Including
between salesmen and customers.

All our guides, as well as Safi, have told lots of wife jokes that they seemed to enjoy telling as much as they assumed we enjoyed hearing.

 

We all woke early. Must be the way of the Sahara. Some even got up in time to hike a dune or two and watch the sun rise. We were not in that group. Having walls two wool blankets thick, Dan and I woke up wondering if the noises we heard in the night were any indication that Cyd and Barb had been sick. Our suspicions were soon confirmed when we saw how green and tired they were after a really rough night. They resigned themselves to a day of bread, water, and stomach meds administered on a routine basis.

Our tent camp was nestled between small dunes, so after breakfast we hiked up and out, made our way to our four by fours for the ride out of the dunes, and drove back to the bus. The day’s objective was to get back over the mountains which meant a full but interesting day riding.

As is the tradition in this part of the country, we began seeing more older women covered from head to toe in black robes and scarves. Young women were often dressed in European clothing but they, too, had head scarves. Boys and men walked separate from girls and women.

We drove through the longest town in Morocco. Safi told us the road was built first and then the town sprang up right along the road making it long and narrow. Basically one street deep.

We all love the livestock and never tire of pointing out the shepherds with their small flocks of goats, sheep, and not as often camels (dromedaries) and cows. It’s always exciting when we see babies trailing their moms. We often spot them in the middle of nowhere making us wonder if they go home (wherever that is) at night. Sometimes the animals are brought to the very edge of the the two-lane road to graze, always attended by a shepherd carrying a stick.

Safi explained that once a piece of property has been purchased, no matter its intended use, the owner is encouraged to somehow indicate it is privately owned. In this area that is done with adobe walls made of varying sizes of brick. In other areas we have seen it done with rock walls. We’ve seen barbed wire but not often and always as we approached large towns and cities.

The adobe brick that is used to make the walls is also used in the construction of homes and businesses. Its shelf life is about 75 years. It is common here to abandon these structures at the end of their lifespan and build anew close by. Because of this we have driven through what look like ghost towns with all the old skeletons of decaying homes and businesses and we’ve also driven through towns with sections abandoned and others brand spanking new. In some areas foreigners and wealthy Moroccans have built gigantic vacation homes which are in stark contrast to their neighbors’ humble homes and simple surroundings.

There were almost shocking changes in landscape throughout the day. From verdant green to barren rock, from date palms to evergreens. In places it looks like our desert Southwest without the cacti or tumbleweed. We saw barren hills as well as steep, narrow gorges. We even drove through the rose district of the country, home to a festival aptly named something like Rose Festival. Rose water is from here. We were too early for the blooms.

My favorite stop of the day was at a cluster of ancient wells a ways away from the base of the mountains. There were maybe 100 of them total. From a distance they looked like gigantic (as tall as a man), gray ant hills. Safi explained that they were engineered long ago to capture the water that runs off the mountains in spring. I loved them without understanding how they worked.

My favorite scene of the day was seeing women gathered at the river’s edge to wash rugs and do laundry. We saw some of it drying on roof tops and in branches of trees.

Laugh of the day: No matter where we were, to include small pull-offs along the road, gentlemen were at the door of the bus when we got off in hopes of enticing us to buy. We heard more than once, “Why you no help me feed my family?,”  “I give you best price,” and “Very good quality.” We were sent on our way with big smiles and wishes for a happy trip even when we did not buy.

Lots of bicycles! and scooters were on the road today along with all the charming mule and donkey drawn carts and wagons as well as one lone roller blader.

Our hotel for the night was Ksar Ighnda. Our room was charming with a bamboo ceiling, walk-in shower, hand of Fatima hardware on the closet doors, and draft dodgers at the base of both sides of the door to our room. Presumably to keep sand from blowing in. If our one night was any indication, wind is a Big Issue here. Pretty embroidered tablecloths were on all the tables in the dining room and enormous (four feet across maybe) basket weave light fixtures made a beautiful impression in the lobby.

Another wonderful day!

FUN FACT
Schools are often painted in bright, deep pastels making them pop against the drab, brown architecture.

Wake up call: 7:30. Departure: 9:00. We were all reluctant to leave the wonderful hotel and wished for a sunny day by the large pool in the center of the beautiful courtyard. But sightseeing beckoned.

500 million years ago the Sahara Desert was under water. Erfoud is known today as the gateway to this part of the Sahara as well as for its fossil beds discover in the 1960s. We toured an impressive fossil-filled marble workshop, watched the skilled craftsmen work, and learned about the process of finding them and turning them into beautiful things and, go figure, ended up selecting things to buy from their three huge showrooms. A fascinating stop for sure.

Our second stop of the day was in Rissani, a caravan stop in days gone by, where we met our guide all decked out in his native dress of royal blue with orange (that he referred to as yellow) trim, called a booboo, and a six+ yard scarf wrapped beautifully around his head. He was terrific. He stopped the group at a bakery, so we could watch men making traditional round meat pies called pastilles. He explained that the ones we saw were probably made in the bakery from start to finish and would be sold for the noon meal, but often women make their own meat filling and pay the baker to wrap them in pastille (crust meets phyllo) and bake them.

We then entered a maze of twisted, narrow alleyways, all interconnected in some way, that form a very old housing complex that is home to 80 families and their livestock. Not only were we surprised to know the families bring their few animals into their homes at night, it was explained that the animal waste as well as the human waste is collected and stored in a designated place close to an exterior wall of each home. When the storage area is almost full, arrangements are made to have a door of sorts opened on the alleyway side of the wall, so the waste can be shoveled out and carted away to be used as fertilizer in the fields. The whole maze of dwellings was fascinating!

Before heading into the Sahara for the night, Safi surprised us all with identical blue and black cotton scarfs. This area of Morocco has been deeply influenced by foreign countries as well as numerous tribes, so with our identical scarves we were now identifiable as members of the same tribe: Safi’s tribe. In turn we each had our scarf wrapped around our head in the traditional way.

All decked out in our scarves, we grabbed our duffels and backpacks, which had just what we would need for our one night in the desert, and loaded into four by fours for the ride to the dunes. We made a stop at a public well along the way. If you didn’t know where to look you’d miss it completely since the wall of the well was made of cement the color of the surrounding sand. The cutest thing happened minutes after we arrived. A three to four year old girl  with a little satchel walked out of the desert toward us. All alone, without saying a word, she approached, sat down, dumped a tangle of simple necklaces onto the sand, and began to untangle them. Our hearts melted! Safi knelt to speak with her as her family slowly approach. Had her family not approached we would have bought everything in her little bag. I’d put money on it. After they concluded their business we were welcomed into the tent of a nearby Berber family for tea and a tour. A small stable was nearby as well as an adobe kitchen.

We stayed the night in a rectangular shaped tent camp with a courtyard in the middle, a dining area at one end, and sleeping ‘rooms’ forming the outside ‘walls.’ The walls and ceilings were made of heavy, wool blankets and the floors throughout were covered in huge Moroccan rugs. Each room had a sink, shower, and flush toilet.

As soon as we dropped our stuff in our ‘rooms,’ we hustled up the small dune surrounding our camp and hopped on a dromedary (one humped camel) for our ride further up the dunes to watch the sunset. Two dromedaries to one dromedary handler   who lead the first of the two camels. Of course we were all thrilled and taking a buzillion pictures. It was not the first rodeo for the guys leading the camels evidenced by the fact that they took our cameras and phones right out of our hands and took pictures at the best spots. No doubt a tried and true tip-enhancing move. We got off our trusty beasts of burden at the top of the dune and enjoyed the sunset before heading back down. At the suggestion of one of the handlers I got off my camel half way back to camp. He then situated me on my camel blanket and pulled me down the dune as if on a sled. A clever and fun idea.

Cocktails were served in the courtyard of out encampment and then we went into the mess tent for a delicious dinner of the meat pie we had learned about earlier in the day, chicken with vermicelli, soup, and fruit.

Just as we were finishing dinner the same musicians who greeted our group when we approached the camp entertained us again. The music is strange to our ears but interesting. The main event was a man who managed to do amazing things with a tray loaded with tea glasses and a full pot of tea. He balanced it on his head while he sat, stood, did push ups, walked, and crawled. His finale was somehow wriggling it from his head down to his feet.

I don’t remember how I managed it during such a busy, fun-filled day, but I somehow purchased two scarves and two necklaces. I’m getting a reputation, by golly, for showing no restraint!

We climbed into our very comfortable beds with a mountain of heavy covers and dropped right off to sleep.

Wake up call: 6:00. Luggage out: 6:45. Depart: 7:30. When we turned in our keys in preparation to check out of the opulent riad, the staff surprised us with a farewell gift: a fez for each man and a scarf for each woman.

The day’s objective was to cross the Atlas Mountains and approach the Sahara Desert. We woke to the rain that had dogged us off and on yesterday which really wasn’t much of an issue because we spent most of the day on the bus. Rain turned to sun which transitioned to snow flurries before more sun switched back to flurries and then rain again. The landscape was just as varied as the weather. Rock, rock, and more rock; beautiful pine and cedar forests; seemingly barren landscape where scruffy vegetation has somehow managed to take hold; olive groves; rock walls; terraced farmland. Something different around every corner.

After being in cities, it was fun to see the small villages and lone farms scattered around. Shepherds, some with dogs and some not, were herding small groups of sheep and goats. Small rivers supported ribbons of dense green that came as a surprise in the arid environment. We drove through apple country and were surprised to see a roundabout with a huge apple sculpture in the middle. In fact when we stopped for lunch we had apple tart for dessert. We stopped in Ifrane, a charming university town with Swiss architecture, to see a carved stone monument honoring the last wild Atlas (or Barbary or Berber) lion killed in Morocco. We began to see women covered from head toe in black with only their eyes visible. Other women were dressed in modern clothing but wore head scarves. In certain conservative, traditional areas boys did not walk with girls, even in groups.

Toward the end of the day we stopped for the night in Erfoud. Our accommodations at Kasbah XalucaMaadid were just as stunning as the others but in no way similar. It was opulence meets the desert with mustard and yellow tiles on the floor and walls, cedar ceilings, woven window coverings, and stone sinks with fossilized sea creatures. Really stunning! We were offered mint tea and cookies upon arrival and were entertained by two dancers and three musicians dressed all in white. The thing that caught our attention right off was the use of rugs along the open air breezeways and in the courtyard by the pool and outdoor bar. I guess when the rug sellers say Moroccan rugs are sturdy and hold up under harsh conditions they are not exaggerating.

We enjoyed a beautiful sunset on the roof, had dinner in the dining room, and called it a day.

Laugh of the day: at one rest stop I washed my hands with a small piece of a mothball type bathroom deodorizer that had been inadvertently put in the soap dish.

Purchases of the day: scarves. Best buy: Cleone’s $5 scarf. Typical price: $7-$12.

FUN FACTS
The king’s wife is not a queen but a princess.

We’ve seen a few popcorn vendors popping and selling their product on the street. Obviously not reserved for movies.

The government has a successful program in place that helps farmers as well as other entrepreneurs get established. Today we passed apple, plum, and olive farms
that are worked by families who were set up by the government in return for
the commitment of farming and improving the land for a minimum of 25 years
and the agreement that they will employ others. We used a public restroom
in one town that was set up the same way.