Back up North

Meknes :: Morocco

Busses, trains & a generally much slower pace of life.

Places: Rabat & Meknes

Coolest thing I did: Sat on top of the Kasbah and watched the sun go down over the Atlantic.

Coolest thing I didn't know: The current King is the president and founding member of the only surf club in Morocco.

In the last few days, I've been taking a far slower attitude towards life here. The last 48 hours have involved alot of being on busses and trains, however the inbeteen time has been at a far less manic pace than the first week. I've been spending alot of time drinking Cafe Noir with the old Moroccan blokes in the cafes and doing my tourist things for probably under 2 hours a day. This is doing me wonders, and I feel even more relaxed than I did in Essaouria (if that is possible).

I left the guys and gals I was hanging out in Essa with and took a (very) early bus ride to Marrakesh. The guy at the bus station the day before had insisted I was there a half hour early, so I show up bring and spritely at 5:30am. I'm in the dictionary under "not a morning person" and I don't usually do 5:30am, but I did what I'm told. Morocco time, however, kicked in at this point. I got on the bus at 5 to 6 with about 4 people. By 6:45 the bus actually started moving, and here is where the fun begins. Right at the same time, all the 6am busses decided to set off and come to a halt in the gate that's only wide enough to fit one bus through. The drivers eye each other with obvious bordem whilst the conducters get off the bus and start abusing one another. At this point crowds of people decide it's time to board the bus, so personal belongings are put under the bus (including 8 pieces of 5ft long timber and a whole motorcycle). A blind man walks the length of the bus, led by his granddaughter, quoting sections of the Quoran on alms giving and getting off the back door. After about 15 mins the conductors have negotiated who will go first and the bus gets out in a slow crawl. Then, I learn, bus stops are a rather arbitrary concept here. Every 50 metres or so, the bus slows down to a crawl and the conductor helps more people get on. It appears anyone, anywhere along the whole 3 hour bus route can flag the bus down and get on. This leads to stopping quite regularly in the middle of nowhere to let people on and off. The trip that took 1 hour and 45 mins in the Grand Taxi seems like a bargain at a mere 4 hours.

After a quick train ride up, I'm on the streets of Rabat, the capital. While there are tourist sites here, this is noticably not a tourist town. You're able to walk the streets without being harassed or even looked at like an alien. While this is a very un-Moroccan experience, its a refreshing change of pace from the lunatic assylum that is touristed Morocco. I sat on the walls of the large Kasbah overlooking the Atlantic and spoke to some local blokes, all avid surfers about things. They were quite interested to hear I was from Australia and all wanted to know what the surf was like there and (as usual) if I wanted to buy some hash. Every transaction here generally ends in the offering of hash for purchase. I watched the sunset (I've done that a few times here) and after a quick meal was off to bed early. 5am starts don't leave me in a good state these days.

If you are ever in Rabat, see the Chellah, just south of the city. It's tres cool.

Meknes is a pretty good mix of Medina, Souqs and Palaces. I've spent alot of time looking at the intricate patterns in wood and stone that surround the mosque and palace doors here. It struck me just how ugly a language English is when it's written. All around the keyhole doors are decorations with Arabic script woven through it, saying very Quoronic things about Allah no doubt. It works very well and is quite attractive to look at. Or maybe that just because it looks like random patterns to me. Besides the tomb of a particularly grisley (yet well respected) king who started the current dynasty a few hundred years ago, I also saw inside the Medrassa (an old Quoranic school) inside the markets. You don't usually get to see inside Muslim buildings in this country, and the aforementioned carvings are a treat. It's a good alternative to seeing the bazillion Cathederals of Western Europe, however nothing is as well restored as the Alhambra in Grenada (if you go to Spain, see this!).

I don't know if it's the places I've been visiting, but Morocco seems even more void of Western tourists than it did last week. In the hotel I'm staying in, I'm the only guest, and I generally get the tourist sites to myself. Every now and then I get someone from France, but it's usually a family and then don't want to wade through my non-existant French. I find the Moroccans far more willing to mime out a broken conversation, and I'm quite getting the hang of sitting in the cafes with the old blokes, watching them play games with funny cards or all starting up at the football on TV. The youger ones tend to hang out in open fronted pool halls and have Eminem blaring in the background. I guess some things are the same the world over. One thing you do notice is there's no girls their age for them to chase. I guess they are all locked up in their parents homes somewhere.

Things I've learned about Morocco that are worth passing on:

• Know some French. I've found even knowing how to say "I don't speak French" a godsend.
  
• Carry toilet paper with you. Everywhere. Most toilets are "squatters" and very few have toilet paper
  
• If someone approches you in a market and asks where you are from, ignore them and keep walking. They will assume any response means you want a guide and to pay them to be that guide. If you get lost and need help getting out, ask a young boy, as they will do it for chocolate instead of money.
  
• Hotels of the grade recommended in the Lonely Planet either don't have hot showers or they cost extra. Ask before giving them any money
  
• Taxis within a given town always cost less than 10 dirhams. I paid 20 once and half the touts in town started following me, as they now thought I was the biggest sucker to ever walk the streets.
  

Right, I'm down to my last few days, so it's off to the granddaddy of Moroccan cities, Fes. Time to get out my "no I don't want a guide" stare.

Kasbahs & Camels

Essaouira :: Morocco

The first week on the road in Northern Africa.

Places: Casablanca, Marrakesh, Dades & Tondra Gorges, Merzouga & Essaouria

Coolest thing I did: Sleeping under the stars in the Sahara

Coolest thing I didn't know: People with dreadlocks are still abused openly in Essaouria after the drug induced madness following the Hendrix/Doors era here.

I have to say if the next 8 months goes anything like the last week then I may have trouble re-adjusting to working life when I get back to Sydney. I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Essaouria waiting for the sky to clear up and I'm in an outstanding mood. The weather here is pretty extreme, and there was a torrential downpour this morning. They expect it to be sunny and in the mid-20s by lunchtime.

My arrival in Morocco and the first couple of days were a pretty hard culture shock. Nothing can prepare you for the all out barrage of hustling and scamming that goes on in this country. With no other jobs available, many Moroccans make a living by working on elaborate scams to get money out of tourists. After a while you come to appreciate the genius involved in quite a few of them (most of these guys speak French, Arabic, Berber, English, German and Italian as a minimum so it's dangerous to assume because they are uneducated that they are ignorant), it's pretty hard going when you first get here. By the time I'd spent a day in Casablanca and a couple of days in Marrakesh I'd built up a pretty solid siege mentality. A couple of things broke this. First, I found a nice place to stay in Marrakesh (Hotel Essaouria, I strongly recommend it) with a roof terrace to escape it all. Somewhere sane away from the souqs and main square does you wonders. The other is I was approached a couple of times by Moroccans not trying to sell me things. Sitting in a cafe, the later in a park blokes came up, shared some mint tea and had a chat about things. High on the agenda is Gulf War II. The locals seems unable to comprehend what the war is about and why people are staying away in droves because of it. In what should be peak tourist season, many hotels are empty and the stall holders in the markets sit around playing cards. The consensus is there is a notable lack of Americans around. This baffles Moroccans, who see equating Morocco to Iraq akin to thinking the public attitude in New Zealand must be the same as the US governments. People disagree with the US stance here but they are hardly turning over cars and burning American flags.

I took a three day trip through the Dades Valley to Merzouga via the Dades and Tondra Gorges. The whole valley consists of red earthen Kasbahs clinging to the side of severe red cliffs overlooking lush green below. In some instances you can see this set against a backdrop of the snow covered High Atlas mountains and a bring blue sky. The contrast is quite stunning and I'm sure serious photographers could spend weeks here taking pictures of the villages and forts.

Merzouga is a small collection of squat concrete huts on the edge of Morocco's only Saharan dunes. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Constantly shifting sands that change colour as the sun goes down were the backdrop as we were led in a caravan of camels into the dunes. While the Berber tents were obviously there for the tourist (ie us) the feeling of such isolation is something I haven't felt in a long time. Whilst the others slept I did alot of walking under a clear night sky over the moonlit dunes. The camel driver assured us we were safe from snakes and scorpions this time of year so I was free to let the sand run through my toes. Looking up at that sky that seems endless (I also realised I'd never seen the constelations in the Northern Hemisphere before...3 years here and I'd never seen the stars!) gives you time to let all the things running through your head think themselves out to their natural conclusion. That night out there really helped me turn off from my London mindset and feel like I was on holiday for real.

On my return to Marrakesh I found myself able to deal with the hawkers and scammers with much better humour and thus, far more ease. I found myself being left alone, despite the huge Friday night crush of the main square and quite at ease there. I hope I can maintain this for the biggest scam of them all, Fes.

I've come to Essaouira with a collection of Europeans of various nations I met on the tour. I've quite enjoyed returning to the beach, swimming in salt water again, eating fresh fish and watching the sun go down. I was quite a waterbaby when I lived in Sydney and I'm realising how much I've missed it in the last 3 years. This morning the rain did pour down, it's still warm and I ate breakfast on the roof terrace looking over the Altantic. It's hard to explain just how good all this is making me feel.

If this keeps up, I feel like I might spend a few more days here before moving on. I have vague plans of going to the other Imperial Cities in the north, but nothing concrete yet. Defintely nothing concrete til at least Tuesday...

The sun's just started coming through the window, it's time to continue with the de-Londonisation.