Morocco

Before I even consider starting in with various bits of creative genius, methinks it behooves the kind reader to get at least something resembling a summation of my most recent ramblings.

I began my journey in Marrakech where I had accepted a ride from the airport for the first time in my life. The ride was late so I didn’t have the joy of a funny man with a sign waiting for me. I’ll just have to become extremely wealthy so I can pay people to hold signs with my name on them in the future.

Marrakech was interesting and I found the souks much more meandering and confusing than anything I encountered in Syria or Turkey. In those situations I didn’t necessarily know where I was, but the lanes tended to be in straight lines and it was never too hard to sort oneself out. In Marrakech, I walked out the door on the first morning, hung one too many lefts and was bletheringly lost in moments. Fortunately, I discovered a proclivity for using the little slivers of sun I could spy high up on certain walls to orient myself (I’m not sure if one can actually discover a proclivity but I think so).

After finding myself, I was lost again but not yet aware of it, when I stumbled upon a museum. Not realizing my situation I decided the museum couldn’t be the same one as marked on my map because that would mean I was elsewhere than I thought I was and it was therefore most likely a scam I was too clever by ten to fall for. I subsequently strolled boldly off, eventually realizing I was south of the city, south of the royal palace, and wandering in the gardens, way off course. I eventually set myself right and because I had started so early and one can cover an amazing amount of ground when walking at an unceasing and steady rate I had plenty of time to visit the new town as well. French boulevards, etc etc.

From Marrakech I also went on an excessively expensive day trip to an ‘authentic Berber house’ where I had ‘an authentic Berber breakfast’ before climbing to an ‘authentic waterfall’ and then eating an ‘authentic Moroccan meal’ of tagine and couscous. Nice day, it just cost too much. I went wading under the waterfall. Everyone thought me crazy and all were impressed.

Next up was Essaouira, a former Portuguese port, currently a fishing and tourist town. Lovely place, under a gently cool sea mist the whole time I was there. A former hangout of Bob Marley, home to an annual world music festival and a place where caveat emptor is a good rule of thumb, especially when buying things from random men on the beach. I did some walking, saw the fortifications and whatnot, but the main draw was undeniably the evenings at the hostel. I was only there for a few days, but had some very nice hang outs around the fireplace, playing cards or chatting until the wee hours.

Next to Fez; 3 hours to Marrakech on a bus, then 8 by train. Fez is the former and present heart of Moroccan education. The place of Moroccan university students and foreigners giving the local Arabic a run for its money. It is also home to many a fine tout. Everyone wants to point you to the tannery (which I found by myself and really enjoyed) or whatever other random crap is on the list. Again I spent a lot of time walking, through the city and around the city, up onto local hills to get a better view of things. There are all sorts of signs and marked paths so it’s hard to get permanently lost. Again here I spent a lot of time in the old city, but did a run down to the new one as well, just to see the place.

I also did a one day trip out to Voloubulis (an old Roman city) via Meknes and Moullay Idriss. The latter being the location of a sainted former ruler’s tomb and closed to the infidels until this century. The kind of place where if a European did find their way in they were likely to get poisoned by the locals. Good times.

After Fez, where the accommodations were spartan and sufficient but not suited to befriending other travellers, it was off to Chefchouan, where the accommodations were chilled and more than suited to make friends. Cc, like the aforementioned Mly Idriss, is a place that was shut off from non Muslims until recently but is now a popular place for all sorts of weirdos. Here I sat about for a good number of days, wondering where it all went, not really in the mood to abuse my feet and generally enjoying life and chatting. Beautiful scenery etc.

Then down to Tanger for a night, which as the main port of entry for ferries from Europe is a bit silly for touristy responses from the locals. I was only there for one night, but my wanderings were solid; the American Legation Museum was excellent, having an extensive map collection AND dioramas of historic battles recreated using hundreds of toy soldiers. Amazing.

I also managed to finally find a hole in the wall selling crap old maps and books and then subsequently paid far too much for a bunch of old highway maps when the clever bastard running the place knew a sucker when he saw one. Very valuable he told me. I know for a fact torn and stained Michelin maps of Morocco from the 1970s are not valuable at all. But by valuable I think he meant you have a strange connection to these things that I intend to milk for all it’s worth. It wasn’t too bad, I just bought in excess, and when I compare it to the cost of a heavy night’s drinking at a bar I think I did myself proud.

A brief ferry ride to Spain and bus to Gibraltar and KAPOW! The end of my trip after a day wandering about and enjoying the intricacies and oddities of British overseas possessions. Flew to London, spent the night in Gatwick, flew to Toulouse and trained to Rodez. Sleep at last.

Wooosh.

Heh, now maybe I’ll give you something with a bit more depth or I’ll save it for the book.