Morocco - a 'must visit' country. So we did in September 2015. Rich history, beautiful nature, towns and cities with lively markets, and all is very colorful.
Fes
September, 2015
The Moroccans give the impression of a happy people, joke with you, laugh a lot among themselves and are really far from the image of a nervous Moroccan they have in Israel. On the other hand, the amount of naggers on the street is not small. You show a sign of hesitation, take out a map, stop the car, just look back and immediately a man clings to you who speaks good English (the main languages here are Arabic and French) and swears by Allah that he doesn’t want anything from you. He’s a student (even if he’s 60 years old) and he’s your friend, immediately recognizes that you’re an Israeli, says ‘Hello’ and ‘What’s up’ and tells you that his father was a partner of a Jew and the like and starts leading you exactly where you want, which turns out to be a different place. He knows a restaurant/ guide/ leather factory… and the guide is his brother who has no food but a lot of children, and he works at the leather factory… he immediately recruits everyone who passes by to testify that everything he is telling is a pure truth by the life of Allah. In short, a nagger (this is a translation of the local word ‘fojid’ – illegal guide), and the book says that the situation is much better today than it used to be. We have not ‘yet developed a method to get rid of them, we are working on it.
Fes, one of the largest cities, our hotel is in the “Medina” which is the nickname for the old city. The “Medina” of Fes is the largest in Morocco, and our hotel is worth a description. You park outside (it is impossible to drive in the old city, most of the alleys are so narrow that it is not possible to walk next to each other). There, a young man (about seventy years old) is waiting for you, he takes you to the hotel – winding through the alleys for about ten minutes. Then you enter a paradise – an old house (about 300 years old) surrounded by a shady garden, surrounded by a wall that turned it into a hotel. There are quite a few of these in Morocco and they are called “riyads”, some of them are of very high quality – a typical Moroccan house built from a large space in the center to which the other rooms on several floors face, and all the windows face the center. Most of the daily life happens on the roof or the balconies.
Guides...
September, 2015
When you visit a country in Africa one of the interesting things is the anthropological point of view. This is a country with 35 million inhabitants where the population polarization is enormous – you see quite a few Mercedes and Porsche on the streets, but the average wage per working hour is a dollar and a half, people live in palaces but the percentage of illiterates is 60%. Everything here looks like a market, crowds of people sitting in the streets and wanting to sell you something. They are very nice and even the naggers are nice. We thought we knew how to take care of the naggers, but apparently not really. Yesterday we had 3 guides we didn’t hire, we didn’t want them, we tried to get rid of them and in the end we gave up and even paid them. Here is a classic trap. The alleys have no order, they twist every minute, there is a turn every meter, so you have no idea where you are, which is really OK because everything is interesting and great. But… let’s say you want to get to a specific place, there is no way to navigate there by yourself, so just stop for a second and someone will already show the way, call you a friend, accompany you to the place and there! – you have a guide. He will tell you anecdotes from the area and swear by Allah that he doesn’t want money, try turning to the opposite direction and he will follow you and direct you to another place and of course everything is in a pleasant and condescending humor. So you give up and follow him. Now, won’t you pay? We paid… Is he satisfied? Of course not, wants more, bargains and all, but in a nicest manner.
Atlas Mountains
September, 2015
Once again we were caught for speeding (third time). When you drive in a place like Morocco, you don’t expect drivers to comply with the traffic laws. To our surprise here they don’t overtake on a white line, they don’t honk (not even in traffic jams), and above all they don’t speed over the limit (almost fanatically). Well, now we understand why. The traffic enforcement system here can be an example for any third world country. There is no intersection where the policeman/speed camera is not present, and this does not include undercover policemen who are apparently spread out on the roads.
We drove south from Fes and arrived in the Atlas Mountains area. Here there are mainly resort towns, so they look more western (red roofs, sidewalks on the sides of the roads, flowers at intersections, and wide roads). There is also a feeling that there are fewer naggers. We drove along the lake road, and completely by chance we came to a lake called “The Hidden Lake”. In the middle of nowhere, a lake with clear water, and lots of lilies. Some young Moroccans set up a camp next to the lake and invited us to tea, and confirmed that we could bathe in the lake (so some of us did).
Moroccans are really nice, kind, speak quietly (unless it’s about football), happy to help (even when there is no reward in the end). Really far from the image that stuck to them in Israel.
Atlas Mountains
September, 2015
Since the days of the Boy Scouts and the army you have been taught to trust a map. Here the map and the terrain are not really the same. Very quickly you discover that there is simply no connection between the map and reality (paper map and GPS). When it is written on the map that the distance is, for example, 25 km, the distance in reality can range from 15 to 35 km, when it is written that there is an intersection, the reality can range from zero intersections to three. Of course the GPS ignores the map and shows you where you are (which is usually not on a road). So e only have to navigate using the milestones.
So we left city A and planned to reach city B – there is a main road between the two cities, and there is a road that crosses the mountains and is shorter. The GPS recommended the short way. In retrospect, there is no chance that a vehicle that is not a 4WD passes this way (although right up there we met a Renault 5 climbing easily up the road). The road crosses the Atlas and we couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful and challenging route – a route that was supposed to take 2 hours on the main road took 5 hours on a winding road, but it was worth every moment.
Then suddenly you realize that you are in the desert. In one second the landscape changes from green to a red desert without a tree or bush. Although the road mostly passes through a valley with a stream flowing through it, so there is a green strip along the entire road, but a hundred meters to the side of the green strip, everything is wilderness. We are approaching the Sahara.
The houses here are made of mud painted in shades of red and burgundy (on the front only). At a certain point the residents abandon the house (perhaps when it is too difficult to maintain it) and the house simply melts down gradually (in the rain that probably falls here sometimes – fact, there is water in the creek). You see entire cities that have flowed to their deaths.
A phenomenon we were unable to explain – the road we were traveling on is a fairly narrow two-lane road (when a vehicle comes from the opposite side, we pull over to the curb). Every few kilometers there is a town of let’s say 50-100 houses. When you enter the town, the road becomes wider, there are sidewalks, there are fancy street lights, trees and sometimes even flower beds, the houses are renovated and painted so that it looks like a modern and new town. Although when you turn into the town streets, the houses tend to fall down from neglected and unpainted mud. The towns look like ghost towns, the shops are mostly closed and there are almost no people on the streets. Let’s face it, there is nothing but desert around. Maybe the king moved through here, maybe the budget ran out at the front, maybe it’s a neighborhood rehabilitation project… or maybe it’s Morocco.
Sahara
September, 2015
At the age of sixty you expect yourself not to fall into tourist traps. We have already taken a bus tour in London, a boat tour of the Thousand Islands in Canada, a ferry to the wedding island in Australia, a guided tour in Kyoto (Japan) and you were expected to be able to smell a tourist trap from miles away. So now you can add to the list a camel tour towards the sunset in the Sahara. The beginning is promising – you are alone with another couple, a small caravan of four camels into the dunes. The intention is to get to an intimate camp and spend the night there (in my imagination a Bedouin tent by the campfire, with a Bedouin making coffee quietly under the stars). Then you see in the distance a caravan of camels from the left (right out of the sun) paddling through the desert parallel to you, you get excited because it phonographs really well and you snap two hundred photos of the caravan approaching your route. Suddenly there is another caravan, this time from the right and you don’t have enough time to say ‘oh’ and you are stuck in a huge traffic jam of camel caravans that are going at the same time (to make it for the sunset), in the same direction (a camp in the middle of the desert). Luckily for us, at the camp, the groups split up and the four of us (an American couple on honeymoon and us) head to our camp, where sweet tea and Moroccan food await us.
Okay, enough of the grumbling. The dunes are truly stunning, the stars are amazing, I don’t remember seeing such a quantity with such brightness (even the moon hardly shines) and the silence (after the traffic has dispersed) is unique. The camp turned out to be sealed rooms preserving heat and cold, so we took our mattresses out and slept in the light of the stars (it really feels like there is light in this darkness), early in the morning it was cold but nothing that Bedouin blankets couldn’t solve. With sunrise we got back on the camels and went to our air-conditioned car.
The Moroccan food is usually cooked in a tagine, not very tasty and not spicy to my taste. To our shame, we actually enjoyed eating Thai food (yes in Morocco) and Italian (very common here). But today we were starving and stopped at a local restaurant in the middle of the market, they only had one dish – meat and vegetables (vegetarians in our group were served a salad the size of a coin), and that was a mouth-watering dish. Maybe you should get off the main restaurant road for tourists.
Moroccans and us...
September, 2015
Everyone recognizes us (Israelis) here. The Moroccans immediately start a conversation with you, both those who have an interest (almost all of them) and those who don’t. After one sentence they recognize that you are from Israel and immediately deploy their knowledge of Hebrew. After that they will explain to you that there is a ‘malcha’ across the street (a ‘malcha’ for those who have forgotten is the Jewish ghetto). If they are Berbers, i.e. the Bedouins of Morocco, they will emphasize that they are not Arabs and have no conflict with us Israelis.
In the last two days there is a contrast here that is really psychic. On the one hand we are really close to the Sahara so everything is yellow or red, on the other hand there are streams here that flow all year round and around them there is a strip of green that creates a contrast that the eye is not used to. The villagers use canals to lead the water to the fields and so you suddenly see in the middle of the desert a green square that looks like an oasis with palm trees and a pool and a house next to it that is all man-made.
Marrakesh
September, 2015
It seemed that we understood the principle of a market in Morocco, an impossible mix of colorful shops in narrow alleys, with hundreds of scooter riders, cart drivers and vendors spreading their goods on the floor, and above all the smells of incense smoke and cooking. We have seen dozens of these. All this until we arrived in Marrakesh. I have never seen anything so colorful in my life (and I remind you that I have traveled the world). I will try to describe what you see in the central square of Marrakesh, but it is not even a fraction of the colors and noise that reality invites us to.
Even before you reach the central square, you hear a monotonous drumming sound, and flute playing. In the square itself there are snakes that dance to the sound of drums and flute playing (I don’t understand how they make money), monkeys that are ready to take pictures with the tourists, people in colorful costumes (also for photography purposes), groups of drummers dressed in red, a circle inside which two young men are boxing (it is not clear whether they are from the audience), another circle inside which they gamble on cards, a band of violins, flutes and drums playing for a girl who is belly dancing, dozens of stalls selling food cooked on small barbecues, or selling orange juice or lemonade. I must have forgotten the man with a flock of pigeons standing on him, the man who offers to take a picture with a giant snake or a falcon, and the dozens of stalls of henna dyers. The funny thing is that there are not many tourists there (in my estimation there are more peddlers than customers). Then the muezzin begins to sing… and at once all other noise stopps, the musicians, the music and even the conversations.
I said that the description pales in comparison to the reality, but after almost two hours walking around the square (which is quite large) we didn’t feel like we had exhausted the interest and will return to it today. By the way, a number of market streets spread out of the main square, each with a slightly different theme, which we will explore today.
Marrakesh, Eid al-Adha
September, 2015
We are approaching the Great Holiday (what is called in Israel the Holiday of the Sacrifice – Eid al-Adha). On this holiday in every home in Morocco (there is no Moroccan we spoke to who does not do this) they buy a lamb (the poor buy a goat) and slaughter it (at home, yes at home). That’s why in the last week there were sheep markets everywhere, and lots of people were traveling with sheep on their cars, scooters or just dragging them on foot.
Today was the holiday. A quick calculation – if there are 36 million inhabitants in Morocco and let’s say that an average family has 6 people, then 6 million were slaughtered here today…). Although we were not invited to such a feast, we walked around the city in the morning after to understand what it was about and here are the findings:
>>> Blood spilled from the gutters
>>> Children walk the streets with buckets containing a sheep’s head (only the head)
>>> On every street corner there are bonfires with young people roasting only the head and legs (of a lamb) – then they eat it, they probably cook/barbecue the main part of the lamb at home
>>> These bonfires (in the middle of the street on every street), give off the stench of burning hair
>>> There are many carts around with sheep skins on them – if 6 million sheep were slaughtered, there are 6 million skins and there are many people who buy them
>>> All stores (almost without exception) are closed
>>> There are almost no locals on the streets (only tourists), and the locals who walk around are dressed festively
Morocco, Summary
September, 2016
Morocco is stuck about 50 to 100 years back comparing to the western world. You see it in every corner, the donkeys and the carts with the horses, the condition of the roads, the dirt in the streets, the neglect of natural treasures, the clothing of the people… and above all the niceness of the people. If you ask a person on the street (it doesn’t matter what), he will get up from his seat and take you somewhere, happily, without knowing the language, without asking for anything (this is compared to the case where he comes to help you on his own initiative, and then most likely he does want something).
One of the things we really enjoyed in Morocco was the hotels, a preference for a ‘riyad’, which is an old, renovated rich house with no windows to the outside (the windows face an inner courtyard which is the center of the house). All the riyads we stayed in were foreign owned (mainly French), renovated and very pampering, the staff is always welcoming, even if they don’t understand English, and very cheap relative to what you get.
Sometimes when you are in a certain country you have the feeling that you are at the end of an era and the next time you are here it will look different. This is not the feeling in Morocco. We have seen a lot of development projects (entire cities, sites, or just a beach), in which a lot of effort and money was invested, but many of them have been abandoned or stuck in the middle and look like ghost towns in the wild west. In my opinion, it will take a long time for Morocco to get modern and in the meantime we can go back in time and enjoy the ‘thousand and one nights’.
HE 
