Morocco with Siebe

DREAMS DO COME TRUE

I'm not sure how many people I've told about Siebe, but I think most have heard a story or two.

And here we are drinking our last mint tea in Morocco.

 A cheap flight, a new culture, mountains, freedom and this time with Siebe.

He left with his motorbike to my parents in the South, I went hitching. They brought us to the airport in Germany and five hours later we stood in the middle of the old medina in Fez, the spiritual and cultural centre of Morocco.

The vieuw the first morning from our 'niche': 

This one million people city in the North of the country has a very cool old centre (Medina). You will get lost, and how fun this is you'll see in the many little backrooms where all the souvenir stuff is made. Sweets, carpets, brass plates, lamps, glued hats, bread and many more we discovered by following our nose and ears.

The biggest tourist draw were the leather tanneries where cow, goat, sheep and camel skins are being cleaned with bird shit and colored with henna, opal, mint, coal, and saffran.

In the plane we had met Chaoucki, a German Moroccan. 

 

 He invited us to his Uncle and Aunt in Meknes where he would stay as well this week in his home country.

Being ready with Fez we took a Mercedes Grand-Taxi (most common public transport here) where you squeeze together with seven other partners in distress to Meknes just 50km to the West.

Here we got introduced to our first home with mint tea and family.

Chaoucki walked us around Meknes, it's big squares, souqs and buildings of importance like here in the mausoleum of Moulay Ismail, the second Alawite ruler (1672-1727):

 That same evening I was taken by Aunt Halina to a Henna artist friend of hers. With a big needle she painted my hands full with mashed Henna leaves in oil to sprenkle them with blue, pink and golden sparkles as is done for a wedding:

Your hands get dampend with a lime-mixture, wrapped in a sock and so you will know that the bride will not touch somebody else on the night before her wedding. The second day will be the big party...

We skipped that part and went with Aunt Halina to the market to buy meat, strange vegetables and mint.

The next few hours were spend in her little kitchen making a Tajine and a delicious tomatosause for dipping. Bread dough she would make herself, after which one of the children takes the flatbreads to the local bakery/oven where baking one bread costs 4 euro cent.

 Our right hands (with left you do other things) were all over the table.

After two nights sleeping in Aunt and Uncles bed and being taken to the Hammam (a place where they will scrub untill you're really pink) we took our packs into the direction of the Rif Mountains in the North to do some hiking.

A Grand-Taxi took us to the pretty white town-on-a-hill of Moulay Idriss for some exploration and 5km further to the Roman ruins of Volubilis. It's the best preserved archaeological site in Morocco, settled by traders in the 3rd century BC, best known for it's many beautiful mosaics preserved in situ.

Sieb could not resist climbing the Northen gate: 

When evening fell we found ourselves a grassy spot in a garden field just below the ruins.

Here you can see us waking up in the morning to birds and the owner who bringings his goats to graze. He picked pomegrades from the trees and chated with us as much as we knew French.

 Making our way further towards the Rif Mountains we encountered a bus on which to wait three hours. In this time waiting the boy of the roadstand invites us into the farmhouse for mint tea; on the always-presented tv we got a weather forcast display of thunderclouds and lots of rain.

So, when the bus finally drove by, we walk back the way we just came from.

That night back in Meknes the rains started; we took a nightbus to the East, the dry side of the Atlas Mountains...

Dades..... and sand.

We woke up to a fata morgana like the once you see in the Efteling, the cartoons of Alladin, the land of Ali Baba. Of course not so plastic fantastic, but the real one.

Sand cities, blanding with the desert around them. Houses made from granite in the mountains, stones and earth on the plains. Man in white dresses, woman in black scarfs wraped around their whole bodies. Different fruits, lots of dades, mint tea with less sugar and dromedary (because there are no camels in Africa).

Blue, white and brown:

 We escaped the rain and were pleased with unique clouds in the desert area. Close to the boarder with Algeria we visited the tourist place of Merzouga. Here a little stretch of sanddunes reaches 35km long and 5km wide in the big lava-plains of the East, If you pointed your camera right it seemed like you were in the real Southern Sahara. See me walking to the biggest dune of 160m:

 But on top you could oversee the whole area and hear the roar of quads, motor bikes, jeeps and cheering people on dromedary. If you stayed a while like we did, you could definably enjoy the silence it has to offer too. Walking from top to top, watching how far olive-pits would roll and then rolling ourselves untill there was sand between our bum. We ate and showered at a campground but packed our stuff in the dark and sneaked back into the dunes to spread our nest at a little plateau with trees.

A quick nighthike to the top, no lights to Algeria, a desertrat nibbled our toes and the stars were there just a little while in the middle of the darkest night. No moon.

In the bus to our next discovery we got discovered by Mecen. Thirty years like outselves and full with experiences and history about the Amazigh, the original inhabitants of Morocco. In the beginning the Amazigh were joined by other people from areas around and when the Romans arrived in the 4th century BC they called this multicultural population 'Berbers'. It was not before 682AD that the Arabs truly came down to Northern Morocco and converted many Berbers to Islam thru force of conviction.
We took Mecen for dinner in Boumalne de Dades where he grew up, hungry for more answers and being fed with the best tajine we ate in our trip.

We slept at the roofpatio of this restaurant and the next morning we drove with Mecen into the Gorge du Dades. A well known drive for it's villages who bland in meticulously with the red and yellow limestone, the green gorge floor with fields and dade/figtrees and the many ruined kasbahs (fort; citadel where four or more families lived together).
 For two days we walked, hitched and climbed around in this gorge. Being invited by a Berber family for mint tea and a tajine-lunch, the room was sparkling white with nothing else then mats, carpets and some cushions and the ever-presented tv (showing soccer).
Mint tea is poored high so you create a 'collar' or 'crown' of bubbles on top to cool down the drink and impress others with your straight pooring skills:

 

Of course we had to visit neighbors and play soccer (I took out the frisbee for the little ones) at their immens field-with-view:

Our new family told us about a waterfall some two hours walking from the town. So after refusing at least four time another cup of mint tea we took leave when night was falling. Between the rocks it was a bit tricky to find a flat, protected place to sleep, but here in the course of a dry waterfall we found an almost straigh rock where stars gazed down and we were quite happy:

The second night, on our way down the gorge, we spotted an old kasbah ruin standing on it's own between the fields. Maybe we slept at the same spot as the previous owners did many years ago? If you look closely you might find us:

And yet another sleeping spot. This one was close to the rebuild kasbah of Ait Benhaddou where films like 'Lawrence of Arabia' 'Jewel of the Nile' and ' Gladiator' are filmed. The kasbah offered a nice view, but else was not very interesting to us.
Spending the night in the little fields was more of an excitement. Just after we went to bed people came close and were looking around with torches. We had no idea what to make of this. Siebe stayed alert with flashlight and knife, you never know, but eventually we heard water running and we figured they were irrigating the fields. It was a good spot, dry and hidden:

At the big square in Marrakesh eating snales with toothpicks:

And visiting one of the many incredible elaborate palaces in this country.

The Bahia Palace was build by Morocco's top artisans in 14 years, beginning in the 1860's.

Painted, gilded and inlaid woodwork and super precise carved stucco make this floor-to-ceiling decorated house a true artexhibition. I've never seen something like it:

Hop hop. On our way to some waterfalls we encountered a souq (market) where shoes, pots and pans, herbs, fried eggs, donkeys, clothes, secondhand shit, tractors, orange juice, meat, pasta's, ovens, tools, goats, fruits and vegies and mint tea could be bought.

Even the dentist was presented with his treasury of previously pulled rotten molars:

The Cascades d'Ouzoud. Big, pretty, with monkeys and a good view around 4:20. We slept on the other side and didn't say much during breakfast...

One of the prettiest tajines we ate along the way, with dried prunes:


On top of the highest peak (2038m) we climed in the Rif Mountains.

We did make it back to the North to do our hike. We had left half of our stuff in Chefchaouen, ate a good tajine and started our hike around 8pm, arriving at the pass around 11pm. Best thing ever to do this with the fresh air of a full moon.
For four days we hiked through mountains with villages where we learned that the tapping sounds we heard from every house came from sticks or bare hands drumming on kif (hasj).

The Rif Mountains produce a hundred million kilo of cannabis a year. On estimation it brings enough money to feed one million Moroccans. It's the biggest hasjproduction area of the world where cultivation is legal, but transport and sale not. (een interresante uitleg: http://www.jointjedraaien.nl/wietforum/archive/index.php/t-1476.html)

Here you see Sieb wondering where it all went, the harvest season is just after the summer, so we saw nothing but dried, yellow stems.

The turkoise waters of the qued Farda and its ancient bridge tempted us for a refreshing splash and camping spot.

We build or home-for-the-night around a big rock. Bedroom (tent), kitchen (sheltered), backyard (with fresh water and cool animals) and livingroom (with fireplace).

Scrambling eggs in the morning:

Just after we had spotted monkeys beneath us:

In Akchour you could eat a meal, today it was sardines with a dry, tasteless, thick soup:

A pinecone fire.
That next morning we would meet a strange, exhubirant transporter who was carrying 20 kilo's of hasj to.......

Our last night was spend in a forrest guardian house where ten men with 30 blankets were squeezed together in one of the three rooms (to stay warm). They were replanting spurtrees and building facilities for the future daytourists.

It had just started to rain when we found this little shelter. Siebe went looking for water and came back with those two guys who didn't leave untill we came too. I must admit that their fire in a wheelbarrel was very nice, but their unshamed looks to Siebes wife ;-) were pretty present.

The part through Talessemtane National Park were definably the prettiest with its many Autumn colors:

Back in the blue streets of Chefchaouen we enjoyed a good scrub in the hammam, ate good couscous, drank mint tea while watching other tourists or see the locals go to the Mosquee after the call to prayer (five times a day).

Back in Fez we had two days to shop. Yeah yeah, we looked around for a cool lamp and a big plate/dish to eat from, ashtrays, clothes and other nicknacks.

More then three weeks had gone, lots was learned and discovered. How the country is originally not Islamic, how sandcities really feel, real mint tea, the ingredients to tajine, the true price of hasj and the Moroccan mentality (a little at least).

And all of this finally with Siebe.

It's one thing to know, it's another to be finally there.