Everything about Morocco is exotic – its landscapes, architecture, food and people. The lure of noisy medinas, camel rides in the desert, rugged mountains and fragrant tagines drew me and three friends to visit this enticing country. It didn’t take long before I fell under its spell.
We arrived in the capital, Rabat* and wandered around vivid blue houses festooned with hot pink bougainvillea in the Kasbah des Oudaias. It was a colourful introduction to the charm of Morocco.
I always believe that one of the best ways to get to know any place is by foot. Travelling onto the ancient walled medina in Fes*, we followed our djellaba-clad guide down narrow alleys lined with stalls piled high with fresh dates, fiery chillis, nuts, rainbow coloured spices, pastries and sweets. We took care to duck under the doeful head of a camel hanging outside a butcher’s stall. In the maze-like depth of the medina, ancient traditions met modern convenience as we dodged produce-laden donkeys, bicycles and mopeds. Gleaming copper utensils swung from doorways and gilt mirrors reflected the kaleidoscope of colour from the rugs hanging opposite. We watched weavers work their looms, and men sweat in the centuries old tannery pits. Skilled artisans made pottery tagines and characteristic intricate Islamic zellij mosaic tilework. I stopped by to observe a young man sitting cross-legged patiently working on his craft. He chipped a little heart shape from a tile and handed it to me shyly.
Not far from Fes, we strolled around the ruins of Volubilis*, marvelling at the superbly preserved floor mosaics of this once Roman outpost settlement. At Meknes we explored the vast 17th century ruins of the Royal Stables, which once housed twelve thousand of Sultan Moulay Ismail’s royal horses! Astoundingly, each horse had its own groom and slave to attend to its every need. The scale of the stables is immense, with the remaining vaulted ceilings and arched doorways displaying a stunning interplay of light and shadows.
Close by in Moulay Idris, an enterprising young man sidled up to us in the market square, offering a selection of multi-coloured crocheted hats. “Air conditioned hats! My mother made them!” I admired his spiel and regret not buying one.
On the way to Merzouga and Erg Chebbi we stopped at a Berber family’s home, a substantial tent sitting on the rock strewn landscape. Only the women and children were home, as the men were out with the livestock. While the wife cooked lunch for her family, the grandmother, finely adorned with gold jewellery and matching gold embellished shoes, clutched her granddaughter, a wide-eyed toddler wearing her best red frilly dress.
One of the highlights was glamping in Erg Chebbi, where the sand dunes rise from the rocky desert mere kilometres from the border with Algeria. We took a sunset camel ride into the dunes. After a sumptuous dinner we reclined around the central fire on plump cushions, while our young Berber hosts sung and drummed and invited us to join in. The absence of light pollution made for a stunning star-filled Milky Way stretching over our heads and I spied more than one shooting star. The next morning in the coolness of the pre-dawn, we again rode the camels into the sand dunes. I walked barefoot up the dunes, digging my toes into the cool sand, reaching the top just in time for a glorious sunrise.
In the heat of the day, we travelled to Tinghir, a small city in the middle of the most beautiful and widespread date palm oasis. We bargained for handmade rugs while sipping sweet mint tea with the owner of the rug emporium.
After the peace and tranquillity of the desert, we headed over the High Atlas mountains to Marrakech and the chaotic cacophony of Place Djemma el Fna*. We spent the sunset hours looking down from a rooftop bar as hundreds of nightly food stalls set up for the evening trade. There was a myriad of water sellers, snake charmers, dancers and drummers, monkey handlers and henna tattoo purveyors, all competing with one another for the tourist dirhams. What a taste of Moroccan magic!
*UNESCO World Heritage Site
