Morocco, Part 2

2nd November, 1999

We started early for the long drive to Marrakech.  The two days in Fez had been fantastic.  For some reason, we all thought Marrakech and Casablanca were the places in Morocco, but we now realised that Fez was somewhere special.  We had all got to know each other much better, including Soussi who we began to appreciate even more.   We were to be given a induction course by Soussi into Morocco and Islam.   Now we had got to know him, we realised how devoutly religious he was and he turned out to be a very good teacher.

Soussi explained that Morocco was the most tolerant of Islamic states, although Islam was very much at the core of society.   He explained how we all worshipped the God of Abraham, but that we had travelled slightly different paths.    We are not sure that the Spanish contingent were as pleased with the lecture as we, rather more broadminded, English-speakers were.   Several times on the tour we had seen Soussi quietly reciting verses of the Koran and also washing himself before prayers.   This he did without either show or embarrassment.    He also explained  the call to prayer that is shouted or broadcast from the top of the Mineret.  He went on to say that Islam was a practical religion that said that business comes first and that where the rules could not be observed, such as washing in the desert, alternate rituals exist.  

We drove by Meknes and on to Ifrane, where we took a break.    We found the Lion Rock, below left, and a delightful lake with fountains in it.   We had climbed for a couple of hours to reach Ifrane, which is in Winter a ski resort and has a private airport.   The area seemed lush green in contrast to some of the harsher terrain we had journeyed through.  

We continued, descending towards Marrakech, and in mid spiel, Soussi broke off to order the driver to stop.   He had spotted a Bedouin (above right) and we were invited to look and take pictures.   Soussi warned us that it was customary to pay a few Dirhams for the privilege, but we were totally unprepared for the persistent begging from the Bedouin and his family, who were not after a few Dirhams, but a few tens.   Moreover, those rich enough to carry camcorders were singled out for special attention.

At some point in the trip, and we have to admit to a little vagueness here, we were surprised to come upon a border and customs post.   We drove through it without stopping and it was explained that this was the old border from before 1956, when the country was divided into protectorates of France and Spain.  Soussi did his best to explain the history and we have read a little in the guide books, but we have to do more research as we understand both the British and Americans have had involvement here.

We arrived at Marrakech in the dark and were treated to the absurdity of privilege when the bus had to go by our hotel to take the five-star guests to theirs first, before making a difficult turn against the traffic to return to ours.   We were to stay at the Atlas, which we think had been the site of a incident some years ago when tourists had died.   In mentioning this incident, Soussi stressed how important tourism was to the country and how determined the government was to protect its tourists.    Apart from persistent young beggars, we felt very secure and the highly visible policing was more reassuring than threatening.   By the end of the trip, even Janusz, who had had experience of East European police states, and was therefore slightly prejudiced against police, was beginning to like the set-up.

Soussi wanted us to see the 'Square of Liberty' at night, so after dinner, we went in to Marrakech on the bus.   The square was very dark, with stalls and traders illuminating themselves with little gas lamps.   They were selling all manner of food and offering all sorts of entertainment to try and separate tourists from their Dirhams.  We were accosted by one masked "young lady", who had been dancing in a circle of on-lookers, and only after we had parted with our Dirhams did it dawn on us that this was a "drag act".   There were snake-charmers, palm readers, water sellers and - very discretely - lots of ministry men, who shepherded us around.    There seems to be some subtle rules to the game as here, for the first time, our guide's official ID card was clipped to his costume, while the auxiliary helpers, though some were in traditional djelabas like Soussi, were incognito.   Again, in an apparently frightening environment, we were made to feel safe and comfortable without being fully isolated from the realities.

Soussi took us to a coffee bar overlooking the square, where we had mint tea.    We were on the top floor and our view was a little obscured by the corrugated roof of the balcony below, which projected further than our floor.   In typical antipodian style, Alan, who tells us he is used to heights, wandered across the roof to get better pictures.   We all thought he would get arrested.

3rd November, 1999

In the morning our tour of Marrakech started in earnest with a visit to the Menara Gardens, shown below left.   The weather was misty and overcast and we English-speakers had been handed over to a trainee for the tour.   After the excitement of Fez, somehow Marrakech was not exciting us quite as it should.    We went on to the Bahia Palace, which our guide told us all about.    By now, we six had melded into an "awkward squad" and our young guide did not have Soussi's skill in managing us.  For this reason, we did not get the best from the palace.   That said, it is not particularly old, having been built by the Great Vizier, Ba Ahmed, at the end of the last century.   While the men were greatly interested in the arrangements the Vizier had for his four wives and 24 concubines, the ladies of the group were too feminist to approve.   The great courtyard is shown below centre, around which are the rooms for the harem. 

We were impatient to visit the Medina after the excitement of that in Fez, but were a little disappointed that the one in Marrakech is more modern, has wider streets and motorbikes in addition to donkeys and, indeed, the odd car.  A scene from the Medina is shown, above right.

After lunch, we had free time until the evening's spectacular.   In Fez we made the mistake of going walkabout first and returning to the pool as the sun set, so this time we lounged round the hotel pool for a while, soaking up the sun before heading back to town.  Freelance guides at the hotel door thought we were mad walking into town, but the "awkward squad" were also the meanies when it came to paying for taxis and the walk was no more than 20 minutes.    We had seen a sign for an internet cafe from the bus in the morning and thought how impressed you would all be to get greetings from Marrakech.   We found the cafe, but they had been hit by a power cut and we decided to return to the main square for a while.   In slightly better lighting conditions, we snapped (above left) the snake-charmer - after the obligatory fee - and sneaked a quick shot of the square (above centre) before anyone else demanded payment.   In the distance you can see the famous minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque dating from the year 1190, which dominates Marrakech.   It is shown a little clearer above right.   The minaret is impressive, but after seeing the Giraldo in Seville, which pre-dated it, we had no doubt as to which was the genuine item.

The night's excursion was an extra and the "awkward squad", having been well schooled by Soussi in the art of barter, thought we would have a little sport and had told Soussi we would have to think about it.   We returned to the hotel, half an hour before the excursion left, and told Soussi that we thought it was too expensive - and anyway the Australians from the hotel down the road were only paying half as much.    We asked Soussi to make a call and see if they would do a deal for six.    Of course, they did.

Our evening's entertainment was at Chez Ali's, where a cast of thousands (or so it seemed) entertained us.   We arrived in a large courtyard to be greeted by Arab horsemen (shown below left) and walked through an Aladdin's cave theme area followed by covered walkways lined by drummers, dancers, singers and ladies that make a fearful noise wobbling their tongues about.   Finally, we entered a large tent where entertainers followed us.   Here Soussi worked another of his minor miracles.    Kate's camera malfunctioned and spat out its half-used film and Janusz had just forgotten to bring any.   We asked Soussi if the house sold film and, after a brief conversation with a functionary, refused to tell us the outrageous price being asked.   He told us to be sure to have some cash to hand and disappeared, returning a little later with the photographer whom he had prevailed upon to part with two reels for a price that would have been inexpensive anywhere.   This meant, however, that later we had little option but to fork out for the photographers somewhat style-less pictures of us posing with Berbers.  

The entertainment had an element of audience participation as the picture above centre of David indicates, but as usual there was a price and David's weakness in succumbing to the young lady cost the other men who had so far valiantly refused and who now had no choice but to follow.   We were conscious that the house was trying to press on with the evening's affairs, but the "awkward squad" were, once more, determined to eat all the food from each of the courses that was presented.   As a result, we were late getting out to the main arena where Soussi had been repeatedly urging us to go. 

Around three sides of an arena the size of a football pitch, were tiered seats.    As well as a staff of thousands, Chez Ali attracts a clientele of thousands and we struggled to find a vantage point.   We watched a pageantry of camels and Arabs, another belly dancer (pretty good) trick riders and horsemen that raced in, to within a few feet of us, and loosed off volleys from rifles that sounded like Howitzers.    With the disappointment of the Hi-8 in the dark, David was cam-corder-less, but Alan's super new digital job caught it all and we later stole a copy.   The horsemen are shown above right.

Marrakech had at last come alive for us and we returned to the hotel in high spirits, almost feeling guilty that we had twisted a discount from Soussi.

4th November, 1999

Soussi had told us that, if enough of us agreed, we would go on a special excursion not listed in the official itinerary instead of going directly to Casablanca which he told us frankly was a bit of a bore.  Such was Soussi's charm, that no-one declined his tour.   We drove south-east from Marrakech to Ourika, where there was a Berber village.   Soussi, of course, is a Berber.   As we drove, we noticed that there seemed to be even more flags, banners and police.   The King was, most probably, not far away.  

We drove along roads that were increasingly narrow and twisty, following a river valley that had recently flooded and destroyed houses, which could be seen below.    Sadly, we were told, there had been loss of life.   The Berber houses, of course, are made of mud, straw and salt.   When dry, they are fairly durable, but no match for a flood.   We arrived at the Berber village, below left, and were met by the customary hawkers and small children.   As we climbed   the windy crumbling path to the village, we were left alone.   We were to learn that the head man of the village that owned the land we were walking on, had a deal with Soussi where part of our fee was paid openly to him and it was clear he was not having any bunch of kids interfere with his business.   We were invited into his house for tea and were almost embarrassed by the friendliness of his family, who wanted us to see and photograph every room and none of them held our their hands.   This showed us that it can be organised differently, insofar as the Berber was well paid and we were not hassled and enjoyed his hospitality as we should.

Soussi performed his star role in the Berber tea ceremony.   After we had wandered around the house and balcony, we were summoned to tea to find Soussi, sitting on a sheepskin preparing it, which is every bit as involved as any Japanese ceremony.    Unlike the Japanese, however, Soussi's version is infinitely more fun as he explains what an important social occasion this is and performed a Les Dawson style (he's probably never heard of him) gossip sketch with Kate (above centre and right).  The tea has to be brewed just right and Soussi has to wash properly before he can begin.   We are reassured to learn that, although the water is from the local well, it has been treated and boiled twice.  Soussi was to make two pots - one sweet and one not.    Sugar is a main product in Morocco and it does seem that the locals have more than a little sweet tooth.   The sugar was in fist-sized lumps in a pot bigger than the tea-pot and, while doing his gossip routine, Soussi tipped half of it into the sweet pot, having smashed it to smaller pieces as he talked.   This was truly a highlight of the tour and, after drinking our tea and tasting the local bread with oil and date honey, we thanked our host warmly as we left.  Soussi handed the Berber his fee and he seemed well pleased.

We then journeyed a little further to the Berber market that was nominally the objective of the excursion.   Shown below left, it was in a valley below the road and we wandered down from the coach, attended by the children and hawkers.    We walked the market and endured the heavy sales pitches for half an hour.    We told one persistent peddler that we were European nomads, living in a caravan, but he did not believe us until Alan and Carolyn joined in insisting that they lived in a tent.  The Berber had first insisted that we lived in a palace but eventually accepted we were telling the truth and became more friendly and less pushy.    Another peddler that Kate told this story to explained that he had lived with an American family, but had returned to bring his children up in the traditional style.   Sadly, it seems that tourism here has developed into an unnatural charade in most places and it would be much better if tour companies made more deals with the locals as had been done at the Berber's house where they get paid what they should and don't hassle so much.   Though we got used to it, there is no doubt that the constant begging is demeaning and does not show the true charm and quality of the Moroccan people.

We left the Berber village and headed back to Marrakech.   There was obviously more activity on the roads and, at one point we saw people hurrying up a track to the side of the road on to some high ground, some carrying flags.  All along the road people were sitting waiting.  Soon a police outrider overtook us and instructed the driver to pull over to the side of the road, which of course he did, immediately.    We all piled out as quick as we could, grabbing cameras.   The King flashed by, driving himself, at the head of a small convoy.   We were impressed.

The King is genuinely popular and is believed to be committed to progress whilst upholding the traditional values of the country.   We did not feel that it was unreasonable that we should have been pulled over and indeed were surprised at how small an entourage he had and how light his security appeared.  However, in a country that is so well policed, what we saw is probably entirely satisfactory.  We are sure that our own monarch in England could not travel the A1 with so little inconvenience to her subjects.   Those of us that can remember walking unhindered to the door of No. 10 Downing Street, long for the days, such as we had just seen, when heads of state can go about their business without the huge and irritating security presence.

The King has a formidable task and we wish him well.   Morocco has a large majority of young people, some of whom are impatient for change.   We met a young computer expert at one cyber cafe who wanted to practice his English on us.     Despite a university education, his pay was poor and his prospects seemed to him limited.    All he wanted to do was to perfect his English and leave.     We were a bit saddened by his attitude, but everyone should be entitled to pursue his dreams.    That after all is what Janusz had done.  There is vastly more right with Morocco than is wrong, from what we saw, and we should do everything we can to help them modernise to the extent they want to.    We could also do Morocco and the rest of the developing world a great favour by stopping selling them cigarettes.   We have seen many TV items about this subject in the UK, but seeing it in reality drives to us how utterly immoral it is for us to be allowing cigarette companies, who we now accept as responsible for much ill health and misery, to transfer their business to the emerging third world markets.    The money that cigarettes will remove from the local economy, quite apart from any health considerations, will greatly damage this country.

We arrived late in Casablanca in time to see the sun set (above left).    On the way, Soussi had taken a phone call.   There was something faintly bizarre about this very traditional bearded Berber, barefooted, with his turban and pointy hood,  interrupting his recital of the Koran, to pull a tiny cellphone from a jiffy bag and have an animated conversation with it.   It seemed that there was yet another cock-up on hotels and this was going to give us an hour and a half on our own in Casablanca, while Soussi sorted it.   We were dropped in the main square opposite the Hyatt Hotel and counselled most strongly not to go into the Medina, which was just across the street, without an official guide.  

For the "awkward squad", and Janusz in particular, this simply made the Medina irresistible and, after wandering around the more westernised streets, which were frankly not that interesting, we were lured by the thought of another Medina to explore.    In fact, the Medina was not as interesting as that at Fez, though maybe a bit better than Marrakech.   We soon realised what the cautions were about.    For, without a guide, we were soon targeted by peddlers that we had not come across before and whose wares were not what law-abiding citizens would be interested in.    We had similar reports from the other Aussies on the parallel tour.    We were now coming to the end of our tour and this experience made us realise how successful the guides are at keeping their charges out of harm's way, but also how easy it is to obtain illicit materials in Morocco.   This we find a little strange, in what is otherwise a heavily policed society.   However, we don't recall seeing a single uniformed policeman inside any of the Medinas.

Soussi returned with the bus and had worked another of his minor miracles and got us into the Holiday Inn, where we had fantastic views from the top floor and a most enjoyable dinner.   The down side was that, as tomorrow was the Sabbath, we had to be off early or we would not be able to see some of the sights laid on for us.     

5th November, 1999

The map, left, shows our travels through Morocco to the coast at Casablanca.  We left the hotel at 6:30 a.m. and went first to the Hassan II Mosque, which one can only say is startling.   Shown below left, with us posing in front of it, the Mosque is set in a large open space, overlooking the sea, where its beauty and power can be seen easily.   In many places we have been, some of the most impressive buildings have been impossible to appreciate because of the crowding of other, often ugly and modern, buildings.    This was different.

We left Casablanca and, contrary to our fibbing e-mails, we had not found Rick's nor the Blue Parrot.  To some extent, Soussi was right, we all hanker after a Casablanca that only really existed in Pinewood.   We moved on up the coast to Rabat and went straight to the Royal Palace, shown above centre.  Here we took on yet another guide whose patch was the Royal Palace.   Janusz nearly caused an incident by getting too close to the guards, who are most definitely armed and not to be messed with.   It seems that there are ceremonial guards for photography, but the police in blue and the royal guards do not take kindly to it.   The Aussies from the other tour said, in a casual way, that they had met the King when they visited the palace.   He was just walking about with a passing foreign dignitary. 

Above right, Kate poses with the mounted ceremonial guard in front of the Mohammed V Mausoleum and below left is the actual Mausoleum which now also houses his brother and son.   Then - off to the Kasbah, below centre, on the coast by the mouth of the Oued Bou Regreg.   As we approached it, Soussi pointed out the boatmen ferrying people across the river and warned us of their habit of revising the price when they were mid-stream.   Below right is the view out of the cafe in the Kasbah.

We ate our sandwiches on what passes for a promenade and then crossed the road to have a coffee outside a bar.   We were chatting amongst ourselves and next to us were two locals, talking Arabic - or whatever they speak in Larache.   A peddler came by selling cigarettes and the locals bought a couple each.   One of us made the comment that it seemed you could buy cigarettes two at a time here.   The "local" turned to us and said, in clear London English "You can buy 'em one at a time if you want."  It turned out that he had been a local as a boy, but was now on the Portobello Road.  We had an interesting conversation with him and he told us he was holidaying.   He went on to say that Morocco was the easiest going of the Arab countries and that, apart from the hassling, which even he had to put up with, was as safe as England.   One truly has to be careful what one says in bars as you can never be sure that the local sitting next to you is not a Londoner.

6th November, 1999

Tangiers - Journey's end.   We had a brief conducted tour of the city in the bus, before being dropped at our hotel - the Solazur, below centre.   Soussi wisely took his leave of us and we thanked him sincerely for his very real friendship and help.   During his explanations of Arab ways, he had told us that he was bound by his religion to accept as a guest into his house even the slightest acquaintance, but for only two nights.   After that, he says, he would want another night, then another and would in any case soon know all your affairs.   We had joked about this, but Soussi had genuinely told us that any of us would receive such a welcome and we told him we would return the gesture.   Time will tell if we will meet again.

We had said "wisely" as we are sure Soussi knew that, after his miracles at the Sheraton and the Holiday Inn, we were going to be down to earth with a bump.    The hotel may have been splendid once, and didn't look too bad till we got inside, but we were relieved that we were only to stay one night and a little sorry for the Dubliners who had spent the week there.   We changed quickly and went   onto the beach opposite the hotel to find Alan negotiating a camel ride for the morning. We took a long range picture of old Tangiers, above right, before setting off for town to send some e-mails and buy some cool beer at street price.      We met Janusz returning from his obligatory visit to the Medina, which he said didn't impress him much and was very much more threatening than that of Casablanca.  We decided we did not need the experience ourselves and returned to the hotel to consume our beers. 

Interestingly, alcoholic drinks are widely available though its consumption is contrary to their religious beliefs.   It seems consumption is not particularly high and there is little pressure to abstain from drinking.   We, however, did not think it politic to drink in public outside the hotel. 

We were allowed a little lie-in before our return to the ferry and Spain, but Alan was up early for his camel ride, shown above left, and we  got down to the beach when it was almost over.   Alan had bought the full monty and was determined to do his Lawrence of Arabia bit.  One of the Spanish had also bought the local dress and had spent much of his time pretending to be a local guide. 

After a thoroughly enjoyable tour that had been excellent value, we boarded the boat for the return journey.   This time, because of contraband considerations, we had to take our bags with us as the coach had to be empty as it would be carefully inspected on arrival in Spain.   We were shown to a large wire cage on the ferry to dump our bags and could not help  thinking how easy it was to climb over the cage and take whatever one wanted from the bags during the voyage, or worse still put something into them.  

While the boat looked reasonably sea-worthy and had all the muster station signs, it could not be said to operate to the same standards as across the channel, but as the weather was clear and fine and we sat on deck on top of the life rafts, we weren't bothered.   Arrival and entry into Spain was very straightforward and though one or two bags were searched, we didn't think it was nearly as stringent as it should be.    That said, however,  Africa is so close to Europe at this point, and there are so many  fast boats up the coast and so many fishing boats in the Straits, that we don't think customs checks at Algeciras have much bearing on the contraband trade.  

Last updated: 18/03/01