Casablanca - more like Casa-blank-a
There isn’t much to do in Casablanca, other than a visit to the Hassan II Mosque. So enjoy the photo above, it is grand and it is beautiful.
Before I skip right into the thick of it, I just want to comment on how weird the taxi system (if you can call it that) is in Casablanca. On my cab ride over to the mosque, another passenger got into the same vehicle as me, and then got off just before I reach my destination. But on the way back, I am the one hitching on someone else’s trip, but only for a little bit. However, on the latter trip, I am charged my trip, plus whatever the meter was on when I boarded. I’m sure it’s a scam, but we’re talking about 15 dirhams (a little smidge over £1) over 8.
Adventurers Assemble
The trip I signed up for with G Adventures is split into 2 parts, so after the first part, some of the fellow travellers will move on, and new people will join. At the start of each part, we have to introduce ourselves, follow by dinner so that people can get to know each other. Let’s get started with those who join me in the first section of the Morocco tour (in alphabetical order).
Aisha. I don’t quite remember what she’d like to call herself, Canadian, maybe? Let’s just call her “global”. She is a delight.
Andy. New Yorker, and my roommate for the duration of the trip, and we share the same surname. We don’t look alike, but I guess enough for Moroccans to get confused.
Angus. From Cayman Islands, but now lives in Tucson, Arizona. You’ll never see him without either a vape pen or a glass of mint tea. Probably the oldest 24 year old I’ve met, in a good way.
Bri. Lives in Adelaide, Australia, but I think originally from Queensland. She is loud, oft with alcohol-laced fruit beverage. The length of her legs makes her an efficient hiker.
Dani. One of the Austrian female duo, very kind-hearted and sweet, and huggable with her puffy jacket.
Daz. From West Sydney in Australia. First time travelling by himself, even if he’s joined a tour group. Will likely be travelling to Europe in the next 12 months, possibly Austria.
Farhina. Funny Canadian, and the subject of much of my banter. She doesn’t like her photo taken, so I made it a game to take a photo of her when we arrive in Fes.
Iz. Austrian, and travel companion of Dani, and they are both avid climbers. She later spends more time with Daz, and I have now decided to coin them as #Diz, or maybe even #Dizzy.
Ken. From Norway, and the father of the group, despite being younger than me. Quiet, smart and observant, and reluctantly shares desserts with Aisha.
Milly. Irish, from proper Ireland. The oldest of the group, beating (or losing to, depending how you want to look at it) me by 4 months, but neither of us have really grown up. She quit drinking for nearly a year, and judging by how sloppy she gets when drunk, it was probably a good decision.
The boys. I’ve grouped this trio from West Sydney, because that’s how they come. The youngest of the whole group are very loud and giddy when together, but much more subdued when separated. The airline lost 2 of the boys’ luggage, and they don’t get them until we are leaving Fes, which is basically the second-last day of the (first part of) tour.
When we get to Marrakech, Aisha, Farhina, Ken and the boys depart us, and we add 6 more recruits to the group. Unlike the first section, where the whole group are singles, there are 2 couples and 2 singles this time round. I have been in the same situation before where I joined halfway through a bigger trip, and despite everyone being polite and nice, the dynamics are never the same. So I can sympathise with how they may not feel like they’re fitting in. The couples mostly stick to between each other, and I imagine the situation does not encourage them from splitting up to mingle with others as much.
Claudia. We have another Austrian join the group; she’s very talkative, and energetic, but despite being quite a sporty person, apparently hates hiking.
Em and Stephen. From Northern Ireland, Em turns 30 during the trip, and this was her gift from Stephen.
Nadine. From Dresden, Germany. She stays quite quiet at the start, because she’s not confident or comfortable with her level of English, but she does break out of it as the days go by.
Soph and Erik. I coin them as #SophErik like “sulphuric”; as it helps me remember names. Northern English, but now lives in Cambridge.
Rock the Kasbah
We leave early in the morning for Chefchaouen, or just Chaouen, and it will be a long journey. Along the way though, we stop by the capital city of the country, Rabat, to explore the insides of a kasbah. A kasbah, in Morocco, seems to be just multiple buildings within fortified walls. The kasbah we visit is called Kasbah of the Udayas, and I don’t know how it compares with others, but this one has its buildings painted or accented with shades of blue.
Before we enter, Brahim, our tour guide, tells us that he cannot guide us through, but I don’t remember why. I don’t really mind just wandering around aimlessly, finding the nooks and cracks of the alleyways that make up the area. However, not long, some random man starts guiding us and telling us the tidbits of what we’re walking by and seeing. This is a classic scam that I’ve seen before; people would offer their guidance without anyone asking for it, and then demand money at the end of it. A number of us try to stay back hoping the man will get the clue and leave, but he doesn’t. Eventually, Aisha steps up to the plate and tells the man that we’re just going to explore the kasbah ourselves. He leaves.
Later on though, I hear a holler from behind to go see something. OK, and so I follow. We arrive at a balcony of some sort, with the sea in view, but unfortunately the grey weather mutes the colours of the sea. Regardless, it’s not a particularly impressive view, so I leave. Upon leaving, a man asks for money, and I respond with “I don’t have any money”, which is a half-lie; I don’t have any change, and I really don’t want to pay. Farhina, who recalls the story later, tells us that she gave him some money when he told her that no one in the group gave him any money and that he has kids. Sorry, Farhina.
Next stop, we jump off our rather crowded van, at Mausoleum of Mohammed V, with its accompanying minaret Hassan Tower next to it. Originally, the mausoleum was supposed to be the biggest of its kind, and the tower the highest, but the death of the man who commissioned the construction died before they were completed, and in turn the construction stopped. Instead of rehashing the Wikipedia page for these two buildings, you can look them up yourselves!
Seeing blue
Finally, we arrive at the city of Chefchaouen, or just Chaouen, and it’s a beautiful town built alongside a hill with its buildings painted in blue. It’s a striking view, and upon searching for answers as to why the walls are painted in bright blue, there doesn’t seem to be a definitive answer. Nevertheless, this is the size of towns I like to visit, where everything is walkable and has abundance of character.
When it’s dinner time, Brahim takes us to a restaurant in the centre, where they serve pizzas and pastas. Now, we have only just arrived in Morocco, so we want some local food, godammit! Along with those sitting with me, we are quite displeased with the decision to go to a restaurant that no doubt serves quite dubious Italian food. As a few of us stand up, ready to leave, the restaurant owner runs to Brahim to figure out why we’re going. “We want Moroccan food”, we demanded. Brahim tells us that the restaurant next door, run by the same operation, serves tajines and such. So we sit back down, order our food and ate.
We try to find a place to drink with the whole group, but upon arriving at the bar, we find out that it is closed. Without much choice, we retreat back to the hotel, and chat. Eventually, some sort of “getting to know each other” games start, but not long after, my mind starts to clock out, so I say my goodnights and go to bed.
Some alone time
Apart from the boys and myself, the rest of the group embark on the optional hike that you can pay additionally for. The cost to participate is 700 dirhams, or around US$70, which is too rich for my liking, and since we only have one free day, I rather explore the city and save the money. Without any particular goals, I take my camera and navigate without direction through the narrow streets of the city, taking photos and absorbing the ambiance of the place. Surprisingly, I come across a bridge which leads to a hill opposite to where the city faces, and I can see people walking up and down it. At this time, I check my phone to see what and where I am actually heading to see, and it’s a Spanish mosque, but you go there for the view. When I reach the top, I sit on a ledge that looks directly at the city with all its layers and colours (see above), and I just sit there.
It’s about this time, I take a deep breath in, enjoy the view, and start to appreciate the time I have to myself, and like in Iceland, I reflect on how fortunate I am to be able to do this trip. Even though I would have loved to join the others if the price was cheaper, I am very glad to have stayed back to do things at my own pace.
When I retread back downhill, I see another set of steps that leads uphill to the back of the town to the city walls. By then, the sun is beaming down, and the steps are out in the open without any shade, so I sluggishly walk up the stairs stopping every now and then to take a breather. On this side of the hill, I can see the town from its back and the greenery in the distance. With a camera in tow, I take plenty of photos, but I am always conscious of stopping and just enjoy whatever it is around me.
Funky Cold Medina
It’s another day of driving, but we eventually arrive at Fes in the afternoon. It’s not long until we go to dinner again, and this one is special. Apart from a set menu, there will also be bellydancing and magic show as entertainment. Beforehand, we are warned that there may be audience participation, such as being taken onto the stage to dance. One of the boys, Anmol, join on the stage when he is pointed out by the bellydancer, but perhaps the most fun of the night is when Aisha is asked to participate in the magic show. The show itself is not much to write home about, something about a white cat, but the entertainer actually ends up pulling a white bra from her top. However, soon after, she, along with a few other females are taken away. Curious, we thought. Maybe she's now being sold to slavery? Quite a while later, they emerge from upstairs in dresses, Aisha being the “bride” in a rather extravagant outfit. They are brought back up onto the stage, and Aisha is asked to step into a large basket where a group of men and women lift her up and walk in circles, with her atop spinning around. On the sidelines, all of us cheer.
With the festivities over - speaking of which, this also happens to be Christmas Day, but they don’t celebrate that in Morocco, many of us grab a beer from the hotel bar and sit together at the reception to chat. Milly suggests a game of Heads Up; a mobile phone game where a guesser holds up the phone to their head with words that they have to correctly guess by figuring out clues given by others who can see the words on the screen. Many people start to get very excited and involved in the game, Milly especially, and their voices start to get louder, echoing throughout the tile-floored hotel. The man at the reception tells us to be quiet, but it seems to be have been ignored by most, but I notice him. Not long after, someone else approaches the reception to tell them to tell us to stop. Given that the man had already tried to shush us beforehand, he telephones Brahim and tells him of the situation. I am asked to speak with our guide, but I was already aware of what has been happening. I tell the rest of the group to end the game, and most of us disperse back into our rooms.
We have another free day in the city, but are recommended to go on the guided tour around the medina. A medina is just a market, and to be honest, there isn’t anything special about the place. However, knowing what we are doing, I put on my prime lens on my camera for street-level photography. Since the whole gang will be there, it’s also an opportunity for me to take some candid shots of the group. The tour itself is rather forgettable, and the latter half involves going to different shops selling different wares. I can’t buy anything anyway, because I will have to carry it around for at least the next 6 months. A few of us somehow broke from the pack, and we also lost the boys at some stage, but we all reunite somehow in the end.
It wasn't long ago that we were complaining about not eating Moroccan food, but it's been about a good 4-5 days of tajines for lunch and dinner, and we’ve started to get bored of the local offerings. While Brahim is trying to rally the troops, we all end up splitting up, with many going to the shopping centre with a food court. I, on the other hand, found a sandwich place that many locals go to that's just around the corner from the hotel. This is the type of food I look for when I travel! I order a sandwich roll filled with minced meat, and I regret that at US$2 each, I should have ordered 2.
Hammaming it in Marrakech
There isn’t a direct route to Marrakech from Fes, which means that we practically have to go back towards Casablanca before heading southwards to the popular city of Marrakech. Tonight is our last night with some of the tour members and our tour guide, and we take a local bus from the hotel to the city’s centre - first for a wander around the market and then dinner. The market involves an open space, which mostly sells fruit juices, while the sprawling streets around it sell clothes, spices, jewellery and souvenirs. It itself is a maze, but surprisingly, over all the days we visit the market, we tend to run into each other without much effort.
Near the end of the night, we end up at a “sky bar” near the hotel, but it is freezing. Ken is in his happy place, chugging down bottles of beers, and ordering more when we start to run out. Unable to handle the cold, we eventually go to the bar on the ground floor, where we find out the price of the beers are nearly half the price. We should have just taken in the view at the top, and hurried down for the cheaper alcohol, but hindsight and all that. Still watching my money, I take a relatively early night and bid farewell to those who will not continue on. Also, I have much to do the next day.
I don’t remember when Andy stumbles back to the hotel, but I figure that he will not be joining us to the hammam. In Morocco, men and women, separately, go to the local hammam to wash and exfoliate their skin to remove all the body’s dead skin cells, and I am keen to experience this cultural activity. There are many “spas” that advertise themselves as hammams, but they charge Western prices, and not authentic. So prior to arriving in Marrakech, I found a few places that will provide us with a semi-local experience. “Semi-local” because traditionally you just bring your own soap, shampoo and exfoliating glove, and you wash yourself and then ask a friend or someone around to help scrub your back. The ones I found, in basic terms, wash you for you.
After walking an hour roundtrip to drop my dirty clothes at a laundromat in the morning, Angus, Daz and I set off back towards the city centre to the hammam. We take a taxi this time, I tell the driver where we are going and ask him to put the meter on. Subsequent trips in the taxi have proven this to be a rarity, as many drivers refuse to use the meter, and instead opt for a pre-negotiated price, which tends to be 50-100% more than it should be. Again, as in Casablanca, we’re talking dollars here, split between 3-4 people. When we get dropped off at our destination, we can’t find the place, until an English-speaking local informs us that the facility has been recently bought and is in the middle of renovations. Bummer.
Luckily, I have a backup that is only about 10 minutes walk away, and this one is open. After stripping down to our underwears/bathers, we are ushered into the steam room and told to lay down on the mat. The procedure is as follows:
Pour warm water on you
Scrub your body with black soap
Lay down and relax for about 15 minutes
Wash the soap away
Rub your whole body down with the exfloliating glove
Normal soap and shampoo
Wash again
End with cold water poured on you
After the whole ordeal, which lasts about an hour, we are served with mint tea to complete the whole experience. My skin feels smooth, and clean. When we arrive back into Marrakech a week later, I go back to the same hammam.
Move, move, move
Looking at the itinerary ahead of us, we will be constantly moving; we are spending one night in one location, and the next day we’ll move onto the next town. These are not short drives either, but we do take plenty of breaks in between. This is probably where the trip becomes a little bit blurry in my mind. The main aim of this trip it seems, it to head eastwards towards the Sahara Desert near the border of Algeria. So let’s just look at some photos, shall we? This post has also become quite the behemoth, and it might benefit all of us if I hurry on a little bit.
Just deserts
The highlight of this portion of the tour is, naturally (literally), the desert. We arrive at a small town of Merzouga in the Sahara Desert, and we are given the opportunity to hop in a 4x4 vehicle and ride around the dunes. Since it’s $60, I decline this opportunity. I think about 3 hours later, they come back and we’re hastily ushered onto camels to ride. This will become the third time I have done a camel ride - once in Egypt, and the other in India. We ride slowly into the desert until we reach a spot for us to sit on top of a sand hill and wait for the sunset.
I think this part of the tour would have greatly benefited from an extra day. Even though it’s a small town, by this time, we had been in a van for 2 and half days. We could have had time to unwind, and just chill. It also means that instead of being in Ait Benhaddou for New Year’s Eve, we could be celebrating in the middle of the desert.
After our night in the desert, we essentially have to backtrack towards Marrakech, stopping at different towns on the way back, including the aforementioned Ait Benhaddou. There isn’t much to say about the place, except that it’s famous as an oft-used backdrop and location for many films, including Gladiator, Lawrence of Arabia and more recently, The Game of Thrones. Not many people live there now, and tourists such as ourselves, stay in the more modern area on the other side of the river.
As alluded to before, we spend New Year’s Eve in Ait Benhaddou. For dinner, we have another optional activity, cook our own tajines! This one, I happily participate. Following the hotel’s cook, we throw spices, meats and vegetables into our own tajines; and I must say, they turned out pretty well, and it seems so easy to make. Something for me to try when I get back home. It doesn’t really taste like the ones I have had before, but it’s tasty nonetheless, especially since I piled in scopps of paprika.
It’s a few hours before the clock will strike midnight, and we welcome the start of 2020. We are sat together at the restaurant of the hotel, with music pumping in the background, playing a torturously slow game of celebrity heads, but luckily the time is running out and we go upstairs to the roof with our drinks and music still playing on my portable speakers. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Saying more goodbyes
After another half day of driving, and it seems like many of us need the rest after the late night we just had. We eventually stop at the small town of Imlil, where half of the group have chosen to go on a guided hike up one of the Atlas Mountains, and the other half will go straight to the accommodation. At a more affordable 200 dirhams, and with pressure of my travel mates (thanks Angus), I take on this hike. It’s a low slog for me, but quite easy for Bri. The views at the top is spectacular, and to be honest, even though the walk up were strenuous at times, it’s nice to be doing some sort of exercise, having been sitting in the van all day the last few days.
The next day, we are back in Marrakech again, and we go through the whole rigmarole of having our final dinner with the whole group, and again end up at the same bar as we did just 7 days ago. But we’re smarter about it this time. We go up to the top for the benefit of those who haven’t been, have one drink, then go to the cheaper bar downstairs.
While some people leave early the next day to go back home, and some people stay a little longer; I have 2 more nights by myself in the city. Daz, Andy and I go to a Korean chicken restaurant for an early lunch before we part ways; I catch a bus from the hotel to the hostel where I'll be staying the next two night. In hindsight, this wasn’t really necessary, and I could have just done with an extra night, at a nice hotel instead of a hostel. Not realising that I will already spend 4 days in the city before the tour ends, I do not really need any more. Apart from going to the hammam again, I also visit Bahia Palace, which also happens to be very close to the hostel I am staying at. Although, it’s filled with tourists, many of them taking photos for Instagram, it is still worth a visit.
Taking the cheap ride out
Given that it's my last couple of days in the country, I have to start counting the money that I have, because I do not want to have to exchange more money and have too much left over to convert back again. I have a few choices, have a meal at a restaurant, and catch the bus to the airport, or have a cheap dinner to catch the taxi there. I find a food stall selling freshly cooked meat wraps cheaply at 15 dirhams each near the hostel, and unlike last time I order 2 this time round. Of course, me being me, I choose the third option, which is cheap dinner, catch the bus and exchange the money to USD, which I can use when I get to Los Angeles.