Beggars and Thieves?
For my birthday, my wonderful girlfriend Dewi flew us both over to Marrakech, Morocco where we had quite the adventure. But was it the romantic vacation that we expected it to be?
Well for the most part it was. But visiting a seemingly poor country like this has it’s disadvantages if your from Europe and have a few bob in your pocket. Especially off season. We stood out like a couple of lost white sheep in Sainsbury’s by the butchery stand.
January, 20 degree’s, constant sunshine and dry air, Marrakech is a great place to escape the winter coldness of the UK. Little villages visible from the flight surrounded by large open plains of desert and dust, little towns flanked by dry river beds loosely wrapped around them as if once flowing rivers, this was going to be an adventure.
The spirit of adventure, always have that tingling of nerves in the chest to add to the excitement
Will Falkowski
After landing and making our way through customs, we were presented by what was to come. Bargaining, haggling, denying, walking away, coming back was the dance we learn’t that saved us over and over again.
They haven't seen us yet
For the first time though, it was simply for a taxi. Can we understand anything anyone is saying around us? Nope. It’s like Lorem Ipsum vocalised and angrily shouted at us as if we should duck or something.
Well we were saved by a dude that negotiated for us, jumped in the taxi and off we went.
I’m always going to be thankful for the organised roads and road marking here in the UK. I’m also going to be forever grateful that our taxi drivers (loosely) follow the rules of the road.
Misdemeaners here that would give a taxi driver from the UK a telling off and perhaps a ticket were just common place on the streets of Marrakech. Misdemeaners over there though would be a visit to Crown Court over here for dangerous driving. I was actually scared. And are their seatbelts available in the taxi? Well, it just add’s to the excitement I guess.
Well we checked into the hotel, Le Caspian. I liked it. The staff were friendly, the room was Moroccan, the shower drizzled water out like a faulty connection in two joined pipes, the view from the balcony was of buildings built from the red sand of Africa. Rest. . . We were happy.
Organised Chaos
We dropped our gear down, got a shower and made our way to the infamous market South Marrakech and what better way to see the city than to walk.
The sun down, the streets bristle with the lights from mopeds, taxi’s, buses, cars and what looks like organised chaos is normal driving conditions. Bikes passing left and right of cars simultaneously while in the middle of busy traffic, a horse and cart with tourists ploughs it’s way through steel and iron as if it were breaking down the gates of Caesar’s palace. I can smell fumes. My nose tingles from the smell.
The Market
The market. More detail than I could ever paint. Almost fractal to stare at you could get lost in the tiniest areas of colour trying to interprit what exactly it is your looking at only to see more interesting things surrounding that. Your gaze turns to a detailed stare and then before you can move away, your hooked.
The sellers there want your money and they won’t stop until you’ve moved a certain perimeter from their stand.
Are you from the UK? I am Mark, this is Spencer
The seller of Marrakech
Food stalls next to tagine and cooking stalls pushed back by leather stalls and home furnishing stalls. It was all here. You’d need a big suit case if you wanted to spend lots of cash.
We were attacked from all directions. Off season, two lost sheep in the wolfs market. We had something they wanted and we were almost too inexperienced to fight them all off at once. Be strong!
One guy followed us around for about 20 minutes or so. I think while Dewi was making conversation (if you can call it that) to a seller, I politely agreed with a beggar. Never do that. He was our best friend for 10 minutes but as Dewi grew more uneasy and I grew less patient, he became our worst enemy.
A very scared looking Dewi
We had the initiative to buy some biscuits from one of the homeless sellers so that we can palm off beggars with a tasty snack. Well this actually works! I would recommend it. The hardy beggars though may take a bite and give it back. This actually happened.
I wasn’t allowed to try the food in the market as my elitist travel buddy who owns her own dinner party blog at dewisdinnerparties.co.uk decided it wasn’t worth the risk and as tempted as I was, I took the advice.
Some of the sellers will pose as carpenters and hand crafters. Don’t be fooled. If you ask if the goods in the stall are all hand made by them, they will say yes. If you go to another stall, you will see the exact same stuff with exactly the same conversation and results.
You can go over this many times with them, it’s like pulling the string in the back of the doll.
For the most part, there is some great stuff to buy if you have the space and it’s exciting. You just have to carry around a little food bribe but be careful that you don’t get swarmed by beggars and remember to not talk to the sellers if your not going to buy anything otherwise by the time you’ve walked through the whole market, you will feel pretty exhausted.
The Atlas Mountains
Exhausted from the sellers in the market but empowered with enthusiasm and the all familiar spirit of adventure, we sat and had some dinner in a large French restaurant and discussed travelling to the Atlas mountains.
Long winding roads, some breathtaking views and most of all, we could see the real Morocco away from the hustling of sellers after their quick fix of European blood.
The Spirit of Adventure
Our rental car, a Suzuki swift, the new model I think. Only 3 months old she waits outside the hotel proudly reflecting the suns warming gaze around the street. It was bright to look at. It was our ride. The Spirit of adventure!
We pack our bags, grab our warm clothes and take food from the breakfast hall stashing it in a small sandwich bag. This was to be our lunch. Cakes, cinnamon swirls. That sort of thing.
Approaching the car I noticed a man leaning against the door. I approach and ask him to move away as we are about to drive off. He didn’t though. Just kept on leaning. Wearing a yellow reflective jacket with an ambiguous look on his face, he mutters something but I missed it.
I get in the car with very little resistance but now two or three men are beckoning for my attention. I wind the window down and of course, they ask for money. “What do you want money for?” I asked almost completely unsurprised by now of this kind of behaviour. “I am the car guardian” he replies. I was shocked then. Car guardian?! Are these people making up careers from day to day?
We drive off ignoring the man’s demands however we heard him threaten the safety of the car and we needed it to be in good shape for the rental guy. We drove on anyways.
What an adventure we had. Long dusty roads where between seemingly infinite straights, people stand looking at the passing traffic as if waiting for something or supervising the roads. Are they looking for a ride? We weren’t gonna stop and find out.
Long dusty roads
It took an hour just over an hour to get into the mountains. We were looking for a town called Imlil specifically. I don’t think we ever found it and thinking back, I wonder if it even ever existed. Maybe a tourist trap because we ended up at the end of the road in a town which I really don’t think was called Imlil although the locals insisted it was.
Up the mountains we enter a town near our destination. Now surrounded by locals it started to feel as if we were now slightly out of our depth. I couldn’t show fear though as Dewi would have had a heart attack not to mention the wolves and beggars 5mm through the window. My best friend – The gas pedal.
Well a man in a ski outfit, which was strange because everyone else was wearing robes, jeans and normal Moroccan gear, came out and practically stepped in front of the car to stop us. He insisted that we need to stop as we have hit Imlil.
We didn’t trust him naturally and pressed on. I waved him aside and we negotiated narrow streets, sheer drops and at some point, a road blocked by a digger.
Defeated by the now useless navigation which was Google maps and tired from the drive/fear, we head back down to that town only to drive past two other Europeans and a tour guide! We were saved.
To Imlil
We parked up, asked for some advice from someone else’s tour guide and headed up the hill to find Imlil, if it exists.
The path to Imlil
Well if you want to call it a path then that’s fine but don’t mention it around my tired trainers bless them. Given to me by a colleague as he accidently bought them, they became good friends to my feet however bullied by the rocks, pebbles and dry streams we crossed together on the search for Imlil.
Round a bend, some rocks, some steps made from rounded boulders. Rounded from the many English feet that must have passed up this adventurous route in the gaping mouth like entrance to the Atlas. A donkey. This donkey was set for trade though. It was like looking first hand at one of those trade carts you’d find in Settlers games but, in it’s sorry state, right in front of me.
Town of stone
This Donkey was carrying more than a Hercules aircraft fully loaded to fly supplies to far reaches of war torn countries. If that wasn’t enough, it was carrying the pilot, his best friend, his other best friend and steadily whipped along by a bullyish 10 year old. They were all around 10. The donkey was enslaved. We pressed on.
You know that a trail is heavily smoothed by the pounding of many a rich westerners expensive shoes when somehow, on the side of a hill in a deserted town, someone starts heckling you to buy hats and beanies.
Who was this guy?! We’re on the side of a mountain after walking through Lord of the Rings type terrain only to be jumped by a North African style rug salesman.
Hamid and me
What a nice guy though. All in all, we had Moroccan tea and listened to his stories. He lived there on the side of the hill all of his life and enjoyed selling rugs, beanies, necklaces and other such paraphernalia to unsuspecting tourists as they seek rest on the rocky road to Imlil.
Well after the town, we moved on over a bridge, up a hill, past an even more remote rug salesman and enjoyed some beautiful views. You can see the video at the bottom of this page which is at the highest point.
Home
Well what an adventure. We headed back down to Marrakech and chilled out for the remaining day or so. A really good experience for anyone that wants to experience something fairly different to the hum drum of western city life.
Thanks Dewi, my sweet for an amazing birthday gift. Liefde x