Morocco: To Marrakech and Casablanca

Had we realised that the eight and a half hour trip would prove so tedious I doubt we would have driven it, but taken a train or plane instead. As it was we managed fine but there was not a great deal of interest on the way. In addition, the tour operator had provided us with a new driver which was a bit disconcerting.
So off we went, the luggage cart guys managing our luggage over the steps and pathways to the gate where we joined the van. First we moved through apple and olive groves, then over fairly desolate land until we reached a town that was unmistakeably a ski town, and learned that this was where the king had a palace and liked to come for ski-ing. It was very alpine in feel with well tended gardens and fountains, steep roofed houses and Chalet style hotels. We stopped for a nice coffee, as did all the tour buses.

Appropriately named hotel

Fountain and park

Chalet type houses

Then off through land that became more stony, bleak and less populated as well as progressively redder in soil colour, so that the houses blended into the landscape and were almost invisible. This predominant colour continued through all the towns, with the houses made from the local mud bricks and painted surfaces also in shades of red and pink. The houses in towns tended to be three stories, with a metal door housing a workshop, shop or business at ground level, living quarters in the middle and an open area or rooftop on top, often giving an unfinished air to the buildings. There are many rough and unfinished footpaths, piles of dumped dirt and enormous quantities of rubbish, especially plastic bags and bottles. This rubbish continued right into the big cities such as Marrakech. I was sad to think we can pollute a landscape so heavily with our unnecessary rubbish.
While many of the towns on the way seemed to have unfinished and abandoned houses, on the outskirts you would see whole housing estates with roads, kerbing and lighting, but no houses and the plots full of weeds and rubbish. I was told this was future planning but it looked like a plan gone wrong. But I may be mistaken.
We passed a very large lake and dam system and there were irrigation channels in many parts, especially allowing the growth of citrus in areas close to Marrakech.

Countryside

Farmstead hiding in the hills

Beautifull blue reservoir lake

Abandoned development

Into Marrakech and again the need for a luggage cart. The riad was in a quiet, residential area of the medina, built around a central courtyard with rooms opening off. Our room had an enormous four poster bed hung with golden drapes; very romantic though I couldn’t squeeze past the posts to get into bed and had to perform some acrobatics. One of our hosts walked us to the main square of the medina, ensuring that we saw the landmarks that would allow us to find our way back. We ate at a rooftop restaurant looking down towards Jemaa el-Fnaa, the huge square that fills at night with all manner of people and food, from beggars to food carts to snake charmers to story tellers. All the shops are open, touts pester you with requests to eat at their food cart and really is bedlam, but absolutely fascinating. My meal on the rooftop began with Moroccan salads, just 9 dishes of things such as olives, dates, carrot salad, eggplant and so on. Just for me. Just the appetiser.

Bed in riad

Street from our rooftop cafe

All mine, just for starters

Next morning Ibrahim, our guide, arrived and we mapped out a plan of the day. First the Garden Majorelle, built by the designer Majorelle and later purchased by Yves St Laurent. The very vivid colours and unusual exotic plants were contained in high walls and threaded with pools and fountains. In the house a museum of Berber artifacts and jewellery was quite magnificent, especially the jewellery which was displayed in glass cabinets under a starry sky and backed by mirrors so that all you could focus on were the amazing silver and semi-precious stone necklaces, bracelets and head-dresses. (Photos not allowed)

Cacti and succulents, plus brilliant colours in the Majorelle gardens
A pool in the gardens

Back to the medina, via the Koutoubia Mosque and minaret and the Roman ruins beside them.

Then through the medina to the old medresa, or Islamic school, where young men studied for years to know the Koran and the other law books, living in small rooms, worshipping in their own mosque and making their ablutions in the pool. The artistry of the architecture is stunningly beautiful, the rooms small and rather chilly and students stayed there from 5-24.We followed with a Caliph’s house which became a school, was abandoned and eventually and recently restored as a museum. While there are not many exhibits, the house itself is an absolute jewel.

Interior courtyard and pool of medresa	Niche of medresa mosque	Study and bedroom for two	An obliging girl poses in a medresa study/bedroom
Cupola	Carved plasterwork	Interior of museum	Beautiful tiling in the old caliph’s house

Ibrahim took us to the market areas of the medina as well as a pharmacy which he assured us was different to the one we had seen in Fes, but really it wasn’t, and the pharmacist lost interest in showing his wares when he realised that we were from Australia and could purchase very little to take back. Where was Ibrahim? Well praying actually, which was OK by us, but we would have preferred honesty from him. In the end I did purchase some saffron. The smell was glorious and permeated my luggage.

Fruit and dates for sale

Metalwork shop

Light shop

Fabric store

Then some food at a small street café which may have been a mistake, as I had some grilled meat patty and sausage and Nick some sausage (among other things). The trouble with minced meat is that it can be easily contaminated and unless well cooked, can hold microbes. We paid for this later when we reached Lisbon.
Some more touring in the medina led me to speak with a jewellery shop owner and once interest was even remotely expressed in a piece he was determined to clinch a sale. In the end I had to leave and Nick had to reiterate the “No”. I probably broke every bargaining rule but all I really wanted was to get some idea of the price of items, not to make an offer on the one I picked up. Different places, different norms.
I expressed some interest in going to a hamman and Ibrahim was anxious to show me the one he used. So off I went, armed with fresh undies. In all honesty I felt like a child being undressed and led by the hand, being steamed and soaped and doused and scrubbed and daubed with mud and steamed again and shampooed and rested and massaged. It would have been restful except that I got lost trying to return to the riad (and therein lies another story) and was hot and bothered by the time I finally got home.
We finished the night at Jemaa el-Fnaa, this time eating at Stall no. 1 with gorgeous fresh prawns and calamari. We did find the touts for the various vans were very pushy and annoying, refusing to take no for an answer and thrusting menus in our faces, but I guess they were just trying for our business. The competition was fierce.

Orange juice cart

Stall no. 1

Just snails

By morning we were ready for the trip to Casablanca with a different driver and an informative sidekick. The road was fast and good, but the frequent police stationed along it led us to ask questions. Seems the king was in Marrakech yesterday and would be driving the road today. Enquiry revealed that people are much happier under this king that under his father who was a despot and used the police to enforce his desires. The people were very scared but really seem to respect the current king. More small settlements along the road with many fields bounded by prickly pear for the fencing capabilities and the fruit as well which is an excellent crop. As we approached Casablanca the irrigation channels were everywhere and there were crops of potatoes, citrus, wheat and possibly underground irrigation for strawberries. Lots of human labour of course and the people seem to walk long distances or use donkeys. The towns always came as a surprise, desert then suddenly a town, red of course, and still the plastic everywhere.
To our hotel, Il Doge, the same one as before. This is a really lovely boutique hotel with rooms decorated in Art Deco and themed after film stars. We chose the Fritz Lang room because it had a separate shower, but I must admit that the huge, black marble bath was used once, filled with bubble bath. The hotel was a Relais et Chateaux establishment, staffed with French women on the desk and local people in the restaurant. And therein lay a problem, because the local people, willing as they were, did not understand European meal plans, cutlery or the food, so the service was a tad interesting and not quite at normal Relais et Chateaux levels. We made allowances.

Hotel stair

The dining room art deco glass

The Fritz Lang room

The opulent marble bathroom

People suggest avoiding Casablanca, but we had to fly in and out so we made the most of it. We went to visit the major sight and tour the Hassan II mosque, which is ginormous. Built partly over the sea, and with very special arrangements for the king, such as his own walkway down the centre and screens that pop up from the floor to protect him as he prays in private, it is nevertheless a very beautiful space. We were impressed that it was built with donations from 13,000,000 Moroccans (until we discovered this was compulsory and enforced by the police) and built very quickly, just a few years. Almost all the materials are local except some Carrara marble and the Murano chandeliers. The minaret is exceptionally tall and sends out a laser light at night in the direction of Mecca. The floor is not glass, as is suggested in Wikipedia, but marble, and can be covered in carpets for large crowds of worshippers. It is a beautiful and impressive building. Despite various claims it is not bigger than St Peters (though St Peters really annoys me with its “I am bigger” line down the central aisle)

The mosque of Hassan II	Built over the water, in part. Kids jump from the back wall into the water	The enormous forecourt
Looking toward the mirhab	Reserved for the king to walk on. You can see the glass inserts in the floor which look down into the ritual ablution area	A charming perforated metal door
One of many ablution fountains. There are also 650 taps along the wall	Part of the hamman, now no longer used	The body temperature pool at the hamman

A white church near our hotel turned out to be the Art Deco church of Sacre Coeur, now an exhibition space. We didn’t manage to get inside but were impressed with the Gothic bones realised in an Art Deco way.

And as we flew out of Casablanca this very poor shot through the plane window, gives an idea of the size and location of the Hassan II mosque’


Next stop: Lisbon

Morocco; Rabat and Fes

This six night tour was to be a taste of Morocco only. As we were really unfamiliar with the history, language, customs and culture of the country we decided to have private transfers and tour guides for the cities arranged in advance. After some homework, we decided on Your Morocco Tours and were generally happy, though we had some minor gripes such as changes of driver and additional, small, unexpected expenses.We arranged our own flights, transfers and accommodation into Casablanca from Malaga. We stayed at the lovely Relais et Chateaux, Il Doge Hotel on both our arrival and departure days. More of that in the next post.

We were picked up on time by our driver for the trip to Rabat, meeting up with the guide for a tour of several sights in the city, including the Chella, with ancient Roman and Arabic ruins, the tomb of Mohammed V and the new medina at the mouth of the river.

The Chella was an amazing area enclosed by walls (some reconstructed) and containing an ancient Roman city, Sala Colonia, complete with agora and the base of a triumphal arch. We walked through some well tended gardens to reach the ruins, seeing also a necropolis of arab princes and a lovely sacred spring. Surprisingly, it appears much of this necropolis was destroyed by the Lisbon Earthquake of 1755.

Reconstructed walls of the Chella	Ancient Roman agora	Minaret of 11th century mosque. Note the stork’s nest on top
Sacred spring	Detail of old arch and tiling	Gate in the wall

We were taken on to the very much more modern tomb of Mohammed V, guarded outside by both horse and foot soldiers . Of white marble, it is highly decorated inside with gold and tiles and also houses the tomb of the late king, Hassan II who was not beloved by his people. The tomb is situated on the same area as an unfinished mosque and a minaret which is very similar to the original La Giralda in Seville (minus the Catholic bell tower addition on top).

Columns of a never completed mosque and the minaret	The white marble tomb	Interior of the cupola in gold, tile and glass
Tile detail from the interior wall	The arched porch of the tomb	Tiled fountain

Further on we were taken to the newer medina of Rabat, much like to a Greek Cyclades town in the blue and white, almost adobe type construction. It overlooks the mouth of the river, now swept bare by order of the king to house new and luxurious accommodation and other luxuries such as marinas. One wonders what happened to the original occupants.

Walls outside the medina

A street, very like the Greek Cyclades

The newly bare bank of the river

There followed a long road trip to Fes, culminating in our arrival at the medina, where we were greeted at the medina gate by a porter with a cage on wheels into which all our luggage was placed. We set off at a good pace through streets and down and up steps until we reached our accommodation at the riad and were welcomed in. This was one occasion where we had not expected the luggage service and so were not equipped with the money required to tip the porter. Wish we had known in advance, but we all managed in the end. Our driver and the owners of the riad stressed to us that it was not safe to venture out alone into the medina which was not policed. It seemed we were virtual prisoners in the accommodation until our guide arrived the next morning. I have no idea how true this warning was, but the riad had a great rooftop viewpoint and provided lovely meals at a reasonable cost, so we settled into our room and enjoyed the ambiance of the house and the welcome of the hosts. We couldn’t believe the extent of the medina as seen from the rooftop, so no wonder they warned us against venturing out alone.

Panorama of Fes from our riad rooftop

 

Fes at night

The cemetery is vast and just outside the city walls

UNESCO Heritage listed, so the walls must be held up

Next day our guide took us first to some beautiful gardens, then through the blue gate to the medina, through tiny streets and past miniscule rooms with people sewing or cutting leather, beating metal or winding long skeins of thread together to make cords and of course, selling goods, ranging from the live chickens prepared immediately to your needs to enormous metal cauldrons or even, perhaps, a wedding ceremony couch. We wondered how so many tiny shops could produce a living for their owners.

	Gardens, pools, fountains	The blue gate to the Medina	Olives for sale
Not much shop space, so hang everything up	I was assured these were for pets	The metalworkers square	A marriage ceremony couch (and I did ask permission before taking the photo)
	Everywhere in the narrow lanes you make way for donkeys and carts and motos laden with supplies	People have houses hidden in the lanes. The double door allows the woman inside to judge if the visitor is a relative, who knocks at the little door, or a stranger who knocks at the big door and cannot be admitted by the woman alone.

We were taken also, to the dye pits of Fes, handed over to a local expert, given the necessary sprig of mint to hold under the nose and told the history of the pits, the family businesses, the use of pigeon poo, the dangerous lime pits, the freezing dye pits of winter when they still tread the skins by foot and of course the final products. We were not pressured to buy, surprisingly, but again, wish we had known we would be handed over to someone and therefore would need to tip.

The lime pits

The dye pits

Yellow skins drying on the roof

I did get to poke my nose into a tiny school, maybe six children aged 3-5, and one teacher, heralded outside by a Mickey Mouse. Inside the children waved shyly at the urging of the teacher while I took a picture. Then, again, I was asked for a donation “for the children” and I can well believe they needed it. The guide said these were “private” schools and that the parents paid. Take a good look at the facilities in the picture.

I asked about schooling from several guides and got several different answers. It appears that schooling is compulsory from 6-15 years, but that it is difficult to enforce this especially in desert areas among nomadic people. Even in the cities it was obvious that children who were useful in the family business or who could help make a living were frequently not in school at all. The more wealthy apparently send their youngsters to a small school from ages 3-7. There they learn Arabic alphabet, numbers and memorise some Koran. If they manage this they are regarded as educable and may then attend a more general school where they especially learn arts and crafts to quite a high level. Following this they can attend high school/university until maybe age 24, studying religious subjects, but also the more usual subjects. After that the student can choose a career based on specialised arts and crafts or an academic or religious career. My impression is that this is open to only the wealthy and perhaps mainly to boys.

The previous medresa system has now been subsumed by the universities allowing us to visit the old medresa properties in the city and see how the students were housed, studied and prayed in their own mosque, so we were privileged to see some of the lovely ceilings, doors and plasterwork of the medresa. Current areas of study such as at the university were out of bounds and we were not allowed to enter any mosques, though we could look and photograph from the entrances.

Mosaic tiling at the entrance to the university

Old cedar door at the medresa

Beautiful old cedar ceiling in the medresa

Fes was overwhelming to us in terms of the poverty apparent in the medina, yet our guide was shocked that we might think that someone working there would not make a living. Such a different world…

Next post: Marrakesh and Casablanca