As our group of 11 drove to the riad (a bed and breakfast place), I took in the scenes of dirt-dried, dusty roads, semi-completed hotel projects, mules laden with produce and people, old, dilapidated vehicles and high mud-brick walls that snaked their way all over the old, historical part of the city called the Medina.
My first impression of Marrakech was that of an old, dusty, hot and touristy city, but that, I guess, is part of the charm. The high walls helped to provide the much needed shade from the blazing sun but they also hid many splendid interiors.
The rooftop dining area gave us our first glimpse of the Atlas Mountains in the far distance, shrouded in mist and dust.v Surviving the streets of Marrakech called for quick reflexes as one made life-and-death decisions to move or remain still, to dash across the road or allow the vehicles to weave around you.
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| Soak up the rich aroma of spices and cuisines, and buy souvenirs at a souk in Marrakech, but remember to bargain hard. |
The full day we had in Marrakech was spent exploring the ancient Bahia Palace with its many large rooms of multicoloured mosaic floors and walls and intricate door and ceiling carvings.
Each room had specially designed lace-patterned windows that allowed women of the harem to catch glimpses of the outside world, yet hid them from the curious eyes of the outsider.
We wandered through the many courtyards lush with olive, orange, banana, fig and palm trees, and always, in the centre, a fountain that is long silent.
We watched storks nest in the high towers and turrets and tried to imagine what life was like within these high palace walls in the late 19th century.
We left the palace and followed a narrow passageway to the ancient Saardian Tombs that housed kings and princes and their royal household. These were sealed up in the 17th century, hidden and forgotten till they were discovered during a French aerial survey in 1917. The tombs were decorated with brilliantly coloured tiles and elaborate carvings. The mausoleums were impressive and so were the gravestones scattered in the gardens.
The greatest action must surely be at the city square, Djemaa El-Fna. The open-air area is packed with fortune-tellers, storytellers, snake charmers, musicians, magicians, dancers, henna painters, monkey keepers and water men, who used to sell water to thirsty travellers in the days before water was so easily available but now pose for photos in their colourful attire.
It was not as crowded in the noon-day sun when we were there for lunch. Stalls selling fruits, drinks, dried figs, nuts and other tidbits were few and scattered around the periphery of the square. The scene was different at night. It was cooler and everyone was out there, tourists and locals alike, looking for entertainment and excitement. The air was electrified with drumbeats and excited shouts from performers and spectators under the open skies. The food carts were out and tables and chairs set up for delicious Moroccan delicacies.
The souks (markets) lured visitors with their rich aroma of spices and whiffs of local cuisine. One can buy anything here from shoes to carpets, souvenirs, jewellery, clothes, toys, teapots, silverware, local craft and more. You will need your wits and skills in bargaining. The ability to speak Arabic or French will certainly give you an edge.
The Atlas Mountains stretching across the north-western corner of Africa were beautiful to behold as we journeyed out of Marrakech towards the Sahara Desert. Popular with hikers and climbers, they are home to many tribes, including the Berbers.
We crossed exotic-named passes and stayed in quaint French-named towns in both old-style riads and modern hotels. We passed Berber villages and explored half-abandoned kasbahs (fortified towns) with tales of Hollywood’s famous Lawrence Of Arabia, Jewel Of The Nile and The Last Temptation Of Christ, all shot on location in Morocco.
After two days touring in the van, it was time to ride a camel into the Sahara.
Alas, as I perched precariously on my camel trying to be comfortable, my tail-bone was against the camel’s hump and was rubbed raw throughout the hour-long ride into the desert sunset.
After enduring the sand, the dust, the heat and the camels’ odours, a thunderstorm hit us just as we arrived at camp for the night.
There was no green oasis with lush desert palms and splendid accommodation with belly-dancers to greet us. Instead, in the twilight against the sand dunes, the Bedouin tents awaited our arrival.
We were glad to be out of the rain and pitch darkness outside, nevertheless, and ate our dinner of tagine (yet again) before retiring to our hot and stuffy bug-infested tents.
The morning light brought out the splendour of the dunes. They were a splash of rich orange and red shades against the cloudless, blue desert sky. They were awesome and beautiful and continuous.
For the journey back to Marrakech, I decided I was going to walk back and give my bottom a break. But after watching some of the others struggle up a dune – the sand shifting with each step – I gave my camel another try.
This time, I adjusted myself so that I sank into the soft padding of the blankets and found myself thoroughly enjoying the ride. I even caught myself thinking that perhaps I could do a longer desert exploration.
How quickly we forget pain.
Elizabeth Poey is a retired educator. The travel photos taken by her and her two friends are in an exhibition, Where To Next?, on at The Arts House till March 30.
