the big fat Morocco post

Christmas just gone was spent in probably the most unique way, compared to the other 28 Christmasses that i've had the pleasure of experiencing. Six of us packed our bags (strategically might I add, thanks to the one-bag-per-couple policy we enforced on ourselves) and headed for Morocco, which in my sheltered existence, i imagined to be like something out of Aladdin.

And I tell you what, I was not disappointed! A breakdown of our trip...

Brussels and our new love of Starbucks ~

Before we hit Moroccon soil, we initiated ourselves so somewhat of a getting to know you exercise ~ spending a night together in transit, stuck in Brussels Airport (a 24 hour Starbucks to be precise, thank God, and thou shalt vow never to sh*t on Starbucks again!). The overnighter could have been worse. We had a tennis ball (which believe me, can be entertaining), we played poker wagered by roses chocolates and we had cushy seats in Starbucks, which were a Godsend - just ask the other overnight drifters camping on the cold tile floors in various corners of the airport. So we survived it pretty well, and we were still friends. That's a good start if you ask me.

The travels ~

3.30am on Christmas eve we headed to Brussels Charleroi airport for our flight to Fes. We spent two days in Fes before once again, on Christmas night no less, subjecting ourselves to some kind of morbid torture and all six booked into a train car enroute to Marrakech on a journey which took 8 hours, but i think if we drove, it might have taken maybe 20 minutes. 30 tops. The car was either below freezing, or nauseatingly warm. We squeezed in and managed to all lie down; there were some head bumps, some shoulder bumps, even an ass bump or two, but the guys would never admit to it.

Eventually at 10am Boxing Day, we arrived safely in Marrakech... only to be met by our driver who insisted that yes all six of us (plus himself) can absolutely fit into one car by way of transfer to our Riad. So, 4 in the back, and me on Panu's lap up front, we went! And yes, we're all still very much alive!

The accommodation ~

I'm not even going to talk about the hotel in Fes. It was £30 a night. Period.

In Marrakech, we treated ourselves to the lovely L'Heure D'été. Hidden in a somewhat dark alley in the medina, this place was a slice of heaven. Tranquility oozed the moment you stepped in the front door, and the rooftop terrace i just want to bring home with me.












The food ~

Tagines. Couscous. I'm sorry, did you say you wanted something else? too bad, you ain't getting it.

I was absolutely brimming with excitement at our first meal, and so utterly disappointed that the cafe did not serve tagines. All i wanted was some traditional Moroccon food! Is that too much to ask? Well somebody heard my cry for help because for what felt like weeks afterwards, all we had were tagines. and couscous. and the occasional bean. Don't get me wrong, the food was incredible - the lamb so melt-in-your-mouth that it swallowed itself for you. But variety aint the spice of life over there. Be warned.











The old towns ~

i loved Morocco. i can't speak for anyone else in the group but the culture and the sheer different-ness of the place snuck into my heart. The old towns of both Fes and Marrakech (the former being my favourite as it was more traditional and less diluted by tourism), built with red clay and bustling with amazing culture in all its facets ~ the people, the food, the smells.

Second world as they are, it didn't feel as though the towns were impoverished. Activity and business flourished, but not in the sense of what we know as business. Up and down the narrow souk alleys, little Moroccon men in their funny pointy-headed outfits dragged their mules along, piled high with commercial goodies.

In Marrakech, whose heart lies in Jamaa el Fna, a big square in the centre of its old town, bubbles to life as the sun sets with literally hundreds of foodstall and buskers set up to entertain tourists as well as the locals until the small hours of the morning. The energy is seriously mesmerising.











My favourite ~

Whilst in Marrakech, we took a day trip out to the Atlas Mountains, riding on mules high into the mountainside, soaking in the breathtaking scenery and experiencing life first hand in a traditional Berber household.

Firstly, I loved my mule. He was awesome and brilliant at keeping me from falling down the steep cliffs. Secondly, I loved my guide, who was oh, maybe 9 years old. So cute.

and lastly, the trek was hands down the most amazing thing I have ever done. Imagine this: riding muleback through serious mountain terrain - not man made footpaths but rocks and cliffs, climbing precariously close to the edge. You look up and just there are the amazing snow capped mountains of North Africa. You look around and almost camouflaged against the mountainside are clay houses, a clay village in fact, housing the Berber people of Morocco who I mean seriously, I cannot even begin to grasp what their lives must be like. You're invited into a Berber house, you meet these people first hand, you drink their tea and shake their hands.. and still, not a clue, not a pathom as to how these people live. It is such a different life. The air is crisp high in the Atlas mountains, but it's not as cold as you expected. On the way back, 15 minutes from base, the mules are abandoned and your guide leads you by foot the rest of the way down. You climb down most of the time, I'm talking serious on your hands and knees stuff. You are guided by a small mountain waterfall, and taste its crispness. And eventually you're back at base.










that was my favourite memory of the trip.

I wanted to also blog about the most shocking moment of the trip, but refrained for fear of offending anyone. In a nutshell, enroute to the Atlas Mountains we were given 15 minutes in a local market, which sold you know, fruits, vegies, household items and so forth. We wandered into the butchers section of the markets and well, let's just say they just plain and simply chop the animals up there (unbled so there is serious amounts of blood everywhere) and here is a pile of goat heads, and there is a a pile of legs. Lots of blood. I have photos but I won't even think about posting them.

And that was Morocco. I loved it and will absolutely return to check out Casablanca and Tangier.

Some more pics here.