Morocco - May 22, 2004
**"Namaste! Where you from? India? Pakistan?"**
The touts here in Morocco speak more hindi, gujarati, and indian dialects than me. To avoid hassle, I've been trying to pass myself off as Indian (even going so far as to speak with an accent) since Indians are much, much lower on the Big Wallet Scale than Canadians. The consequence, of course, is that I end up being followed through the souqs by Moroccans babbling away in languages I barely understand, inquiring about various indian movies. I now know the names of several indian movie stars.
**A cook's hospitality**
After a rather dull time in Casablanca, I headed out to Marrakech. What a city! Picture a medieval square brimming with storytellers, snake charmers, traditional musicians, cheap and somewhat questionable eats, and cross-dressing nomad belly dancers. One would think that this spectacle was custom made for arrogant french tourists, but, amazingly enough, the majority of the spectators are Moroccans who cannot afford satellite tvs.
As you enter the smoky square, you are assaulted with a cacauphony of music, a visual orgy of dance and color, and the smell of charred meat. As you weave through the street stalls, you are offered a variety of treats, ranging from the standard sausages to fresh snails to boiled sheeps head. It really made me think : who wakes up in the morning, turns to his wife and says "Fatima, today I feel like eating a sheep's head and also eating its pancreas!"
Tempting fate - but attracted by the low prices - I made a point of eating every meal in the market -grilled chunks of meat, cheap saussages, 20 different types of olives, and a never-ending supply of bread... all washed down with 25cent freshly-squeezed orange juice.
At our friends' recommendation, we picked a hotel with a terrasse that overlooked this nightly sensory feast. On arrival at Hotel Ali, I insisted on seeing the room before committing to it. The receptionist yelled something in Arabic at the Cook, the only other employee in sight. Cook grabbed me by the wrist and half-dragged me up two flights of stairs to the room. Throwing open the door, he presented the beds, the bathroom, and the window. He waited patiently as I inspected the shower and the toilet. And then, in response to my curt "yes, I'll take it!" he grinned, closed the door happily, handed me the keys with a flourish, and said the only two french words he knew : "Bon Appetit!"
** A country of contrasts ***
After a couple of days in Marrakech, we left for a tour of Morocco. A 12 hour drive took us through some of the most varied terrain I've ever seen. We left the relatively lush valley surrounding Marrakech then drove up and up and up through the Atlas Mountains, where we were rewarded with some stunning mountain vistas. There was still snow on some of the 3000m peaks. Then, we descended down to the arid plains, the pre-desert.
After some stops at some Kasbas (hill forts), we then drove for miles and miles, staring at an endless flat plain of dirt, shrubs and sand. And then, suddenly, we descended into a fertile gorge, where we were surrounded by palm trees, fields of wheat, and towering cliffs. We spent the night at a wonderful guest house, where we had a dinner of couscous, tagine (moroccan stew) and chicken. The next day, we continued for another six hours in the car (again stopping in some fantastic gorges along the way) and finally reached our destination : the edge of the sahara desert.
We admired the sudden change : instead of flat, rocky plains, we were presented with golden dunes that stretched majestically as far as the eye could see. Two hours later, after a rather painful camel ride, we set up camp at the foot of a 300m high sand dune. Unforgettable. I surprised Z-mama by bounding out of bed at 430am and then wheezing my way up that dune (the soft sand made it almost impossible to climb) to catch the sunrise.
I am now in Fes, at least $45 poorer after having bought two carpets. These Moroccans sure can haggle! I think I held my ground pretty well, but it didn't help that the carpets I bought were the first ones I really loved.
The touts here in Morocco speak more hindi, gujarati, and indian dialects than me. To avoid hassle, I've been trying to pass myself off as Indian (even going so far as to speak with an accent) since Indians are much, much lower on the Big Wallet Scale than Canadians. The consequence, of course, is that I end up being followed through the souqs by Moroccans babbling away in languages I barely understand, inquiring about various indian movies. I now know the names of several indian movie stars.
**A cook's hospitality**
After a rather dull time in Casablanca, I headed out to Marrakech. What a city! Picture a medieval square brimming with storytellers, snake charmers, traditional musicians, cheap and somewhat questionable eats, and cross-dressing nomad belly dancers. One would think that this spectacle was custom made for arrogant french tourists, but, amazingly enough, the majority of the spectators are Moroccans who cannot afford satellite tvs.
As you enter the smoky square, you are assaulted with a cacauphony of music, a visual orgy of dance and color, and the smell of charred meat. As you weave through the street stalls, you are offered a variety of treats, ranging from the standard sausages to fresh snails to boiled sheeps head. It really made me think : who wakes up in the morning, turns to his wife and says "Fatima, today I feel like eating a sheep's head and also eating its pancreas!"
Tempting fate - but attracted by the low prices - I made a point of eating every meal in the market -grilled chunks of meat, cheap saussages, 20 different types of olives, and a never-ending supply of bread... all washed down with 25cent freshly-squeezed orange juice.
At our friends' recommendation, we picked a hotel with a terrasse that overlooked this nightly sensory feast. On arrival at Hotel Ali, I insisted on seeing the room before committing to it. The receptionist yelled something in Arabic at the Cook, the only other employee in sight. Cook grabbed me by the wrist and half-dragged me up two flights of stairs to the room. Throwing open the door, he presented the beds, the bathroom, and the window. He waited patiently as I inspected the shower and the toilet. And then, in response to my curt "yes, I'll take it!" he grinned, closed the door happily, handed me the keys with a flourish, and said the only two french words he knew : "Bon Appetit!"
** A country of contrasts ***
After a couple of days in Marrakech, we left for a tour of Morocco. A 12 hour drive took us through some of the most varied terrain I've ever seen. We left the relatively lush valley surrounding Marrakech then drove up and up and up through the Atlas Mountains, where we were rewarded with some stunning mountain vistas. There was still snow on some of the 3000m peaks. Then, we descended down to the arid plains, the pre-desert.
After some stops at some Kasbas (hill forts), we then drove for miles and miles, staring at an endless flat plain of dirt, shrubs and sand. And then, suddenly, we descended into a fertile gorge, where we were surrounded by palm trees, fields of wheat, and towering cliffs. We spent the night at a wonderful guest house, where we had a dinner of couscous, tagine (moroccan stew) and chicken. The next day, we continued for another six hours in the car (again stopping in some fantastic gorges along the way) and finally reached our destination : the edge of the sahara desert.
We admired the sudden change : instead of flat, rocky plains, we were presented with golden dunes that stretched majestically as far as the eye could see. Two hours later, after a rather painful camel ride, we set up camp at the foot of a 300m high sand dune. Unforgettable. I surprised Z-mama by bounding out of bed at 430am and then wheezing my way up that dune (the soft sand made it almost impossible to climb) to catch the sunrise.
I am now in Fes, at least $45 poorer after having bought two carpets. These Moroccans sure can haggle! I think I held my ground pretty well, but it didn't help that the carpets I bought were the first ones I really loved.
posted by Ace at 11:38 PM
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