I wrapped up my trip to Morocco on Tuesday, April 23, 2019, and then headed immediately to Italy. I originally decided to go on a G Adventures tour because it covered a lot of ground and all the logistics were worked out. I figured I would love Morocco so much that I would return another time and focus only on the places that spoke to me. However, by the time I left the country, I had decided it was unlikely I would ever return.
Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca
Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca
Casablanca
We didn’t stay long enough Tangier or Fez to know if I would love it or not.
Tangier
wedding in Tangier
Tangier
tanneries of Fez
I loved a couple of places, especially the blue city of Chefchaouen and the fishing village of Essaouira.
Chefchaouen
Chefchaouen
Chefchaouen
Chefchaouen
Essaouira
me in Essaouira
Essaouira
blue boats of Essaouira
Essaouira
I enjoyed the markets of Marrakech for the fabulous medina and its exotic and enticing goods. I have often dreamed of having a store in the U.S. where I sell exotic items from abroad, but I doubt that will ever happen at this point in my life.
Marrakech
Marrakech
Other places I loved include Aït Ben Haddou and Volubilis, but one visit was plenty for both of those places. I also loved the desert in Merzouga, but I have spent a lot of time in deserts and I don’t have a huge urge to go back.
Volubilis
Merzouga
near Aït Ben Haddou
Aït Ben Haddou
Most of all I loved the photography opportunities. Everything in Morocco was colorful, and as one who loves color, I was captivated by the vibrancy.
As for food, the tajines were good, but only to a point; they got a bit boring after a while.
The worst thing for me was being on a tour. I met some interesting individuals and actually liked all of them one-on-one. But I hate group dynamics. Group travel has never been appealing to me, and it wasn’t enjoyable this time. I must be diligent in the future to avoid these kinds of trips.
I wrote a number of posts about my trip to Morocco. My favorite posts were about Chefchaouen and Essaouira. I also loved writing my two poetic journeys and my photography posts about the blues of Morocco and the enticing markets. I still have one more poem to write, and that will follow shortly.
“ON RETURNING HOME” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about returning home from one particular destination or, alternately, from a long journey encompassing many stops. How do you linger over your wanderings and create something from them? How have you changed? Did the place live up to its hype, or was it disappointing? Feel free to address any aspect of your journey and how it influences you upon your return. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.
For some ideas on this, you can check out the original post about this subject: on returning home.
Include the link in the comments below by Sunday, July 5 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Monday, July 6, I’ll include your links in that post.
This will be an ongoing invitation on the first Monday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time.
We left the gîte at around 8:30 after having a communal breakfast, packing up our belongings and loading them onto the donkeys.
breakfast at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
patio balcony at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
our room at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
We walked about 45 minutes down the mountain in the fog. It was rocky and slippery underfoot so it was slow going without hiking poles. Chai and Suhua and I walked together, stopping often to take pictures. We had to walk across and alongside the stream, hopping over rocks along the way. The path was lined with apple blossoms, irises, gnarly trees, and huge moss-covered boulders.
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
Chai was so funny; he kept saying I was his photography teacher and he stopped to take pictures wherever I did. He was so cute. His English wasn’t great, so he just said, “I like! I like!” He wore a pink and black pashmina as a turban; other times, he wore a scarf with a jean jacket.
walking down from the gîte
door in one of the villages
walking down from the gîte
Imlil was a fog-enshrouded town where we loaded our stuff back into the van.
apple blossoms
Imlil
Driving on a curving road down the mountain from Imlil, we saw a gurlging stream, linseed, red boulders and rocks strewn about. I was so glad the gîte part of our trip was over. I looked forward to my creature comforts. I wanted a hotel.
The landscape was dotted with agave plants, octopus-armed spiked cacti, and olive groves. A tour van seemed to have hit someone on a motorbike. Apples blossoms were white in the orchards. We passed through a peach-colored town. It was very foggy; I hoped it would clear up before we got to Essaouira.
We passed a bunch of fences made with vertical sticks, some neat and some disheveled and all askew. By 10:30, we were getting close to Marrakesh. We passed open air cafes along the road with plastic tables and goat and sheep carcasses hanging out in front. The sun was finally starting to peek out from the heavy bundles of gray clouds, shining on modern blocks of terra cotta apartments. We stopped at the Marjane Supermarket for picnic stuff: cheese and tomato sandwiches on sesame bread, chunks of havarti and phyllo cookies with pistachios.
Marjane Supermarket
Susan had a bad cold, a tickle in her throat. She said she was coughing all night and was worried she would wake me up, but I never heard her. Once I’m out, I’m usually dead to the world. She looked bad today, said she was having cramps in her lower pelvic area and was worried she had some kind of infection. I was worried about her because she didn’t look well at all.
We passed a huge factory, Ciments du Maroc, on a hard flat expanse of desert. More blue sky was peeping through the clouds but it was still quite cloudy with white whipped cream-shaped clouds tinged in gray. Small stringy trees and tiny tufts of grass dotted the land.
We stopped at a cafe to eat our picnic lunch and I drank some fresh orange juice and ate my sandwich and cookie, along with a small espresso with milk.
After lunch, the landscape was flat and dry with a little green grass and some hills in the distance. We saw fields of argan trees, known as “Trees of Life” to the Berbers for the many health benefits they offer. These trees grow exclusively in the south-west of Morocco in the Souss Plain, where there are 21 million trees. Oftentimes goats climb up into the trees, but Aziz warned us that nowadays shepherds forced them into the trees just so tourists would stop for pictures. He encouraged us not to bother stopping because it encouraged this behavior from locals.
Argan trees near Marrakesh
Argan trees near Marrakesh
We stopped at a cooperative where women gathered and dried the argan fruit, crushed the nuts, roasted and ground the kernels, and finally kneaded the paste to extract the oil. It could take about 30kg of argan nuts and 10 – 12 hours of work to produce just one liter of oil. Of course, I bought some argan oil and some other lotions.
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
peacock at the Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Argan nuts
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
argan nuts
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
We stopped at an overlook before reaching Essaouira to take photos of the city on the sea.
Essaouira from the overlook
Our driver, Saeed, would leave us when we got to Essaouira. We all pooled our tips, leaving him a tip of about $300 for 10 days. When we arrived in the town, we said our goodbyes to him and someone carted all our luggage into the medina to the Cap Sim Hotel, which was quite charming.
Cap Sim Hotel
Cap Sim Hotel
our room at Cap Sim Hotel
looking through the windows in our room into the courtyard
the courtyard at Cap Sim Hotel
the courtyard at Cap Sim Hotel
stairway in Cap Sim Hotel
Essaouira (pronounced ‘essa-weera’) has fortified walls, a fishing harbor busy with boat builders and fishermen, and huge seagulls swooping over blue fishing boats. The smell of fish is pervasive, and the seagulls soar and screech. Inside the walls are narrow alleyways, a constant and cold strong wind, the aroma of spices and thuya wood, palm trees, and women in white haiks (veils). The sound of drums and Gnawa singing reverberates from shops and houses.
The wind is named alizee, or taros, in Berber. This is the Wind City of Africa. The town lies on the crossroads between two tribes, the Chiadma to the north and the Haha Berbers in the south. With the addition of the Gnawa, who came from the south of Africa, and Europeans, a cultural mixing bowl has emerged. The town is known for its art scene; it is also a popular hippie enclave.
Most of the old city and the fortifications date from the 16th century under Portuguese rule. At that time the town was called Mogador. However, the town has an older history that starts with the Phoenicians. Under the Portuguese, trade in sugar and molasses flourished, although most wealth came from the pirate trades and slavery.
In 1764, Sultan Sidi Mohammed ben Abdallah installed himself. The combination of Moroccan and European styles pleased the Sultan, who renamed the town Essaouira, meaning “well-designed.” The port became a vital link for trade in gold, salt, ivory, and ostrich feathers between Timbuktu and Europe. By 1912, the French established a protectorate and renamed it Mogador. After independence was achieved in 1956, it became Essaouira again. Jimi Hendrix visited here at one time.
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
walking through Essaouira
cats in Essaouira
After settling in to our hotel, we met Aziz who led us on a walk to Skala de la Ville, a walkway upon the ramparts. The sea bastion was originally built along the cliffs by the Portuguese; it is an impressive array of ramparts, Dutch brass cannons from the 18th and 19th centuries, and views of rocky shores. It was blustery and cold.
Skala de la Ville
the sea off Skala de la Ville
Skala de la Ville
Skala de la Ville
Skala de la Ville
the sea from Skala de la Ville
Rene & Gabe at Skala de la Ville
Me at Skala de la Ville
Natalie at Skala de la Ville
Christian at Skala de la Ville
We walked through the medina where I bought three CDs of last year’s Gnawa festival, one recommended by Aziz and one based on the music playing on the shop’s loudspeaker. I paid 50 dirhams ($5) each and Aziz reprimanded me for paying so much. He said I should have only paid 30-40 dirhams each. 😦
Taking place each May, the Gnawa music festival traces its roots to Sub-Saharan Africa. The ritual music combines prayers, chants, and poetry with rhythm. Privately, it retains a sacred energy, but at the festival it is more fusion-inspired and secular.
Essaouira’s medina
Essaouira’s medina
Essaouira’s medina
Essaouira’s medina
Aziz took us all to the rocky shore to see the sunset but I didn’t want to sit on the jagged rocks, so I left and went ahead to Reves, where I sat on the upper terrace, and ordered large shrimp that I had to peel, with veggies and rice.
the sea off Essaouira
Gnawa singers
my shrimp dinner
As I was about halfway through my meal, Natalie, Gabe, Rene, Edward and Elizabeth showed up and Natalie seemed put out that I had started eating without them. They wanted to sit in the warmer part of the terrace that had plastic covering around but suddenly the waiters started bring two tables to join mine in the cold and windy area. Two Gnawa singers were singing and playing the Gambri, an instrument with three strings.
The group ordered, but it took forever to get their meal. As the wind picked up and the sun went down, we are all quite miserable. I felt guilty for subjecting them to this discomfort. I didn’t feel I could just eat and run, so I stayed with them in utter misery. Just to keep occupied, I ordered Crepes Suzette, which were warm and delicious. I had told Aziz I’d share half with him, but they were so good, I couldn’t stop eating them. The Gnawa guy danced for awhile.
Before long, I had to leave so I could get warm; I returned to the hotel close to 10:00. Susan had gone out on her own to walk around and had grabbed a sandwich. She was still sick but seemed a bit better.
*Steps: 13,876, or 5.88 miles*
*Thursday, April 18, 2019*
**************
On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.
We left Aït Ben Haddou at 8:30 and stopped for pictures of the town from afar. After a quick selfie with Chai, the Thai pediatrician who kept insisting I was his photography teacher(!), we were on our way to a mountain gîte in the High Atlas Mountains.
leaving Aït Ben Haddou
me with Chai
We were immediately winding along mountain roads. Green fields were dotted with bright red asterisks of poppies and needles of prickly pear cacti. We bumped over dirt roads for a long while. Red mudbrick ruins and cottonwoods lined a stream in the valley. The landscape was full of broom, apple orchards, olive groves, onion fields and mustard plants or linseed.
I bought a small alabaster dromedary at a rest stop close to 10:00. Soon after we went through the pass of Tizi-n-Tichka, 2,260 meters high, the highest point of our journey. We were heading toward Toubkal National Park.
Tizi-n-Tichka
Tizi-n-Tichka
At 10:30, we stopped for pictures over dry brown mountains and a green valley. Then it was a long curvaceous drive over the High Atlas Mountains. Road construction was everywhere, bumpy gravely roads, construction debris, red dirt and dust flying everywhere. We passed pottery and mineral vendors.
a green valley set in brown mountains
High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
At a noon bathroom break, I bought some postcards and bookmarks. We had a grand view north into the valley to the east of Marrakesch.
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
At 12:30, we stopped at a Pharmacie for many in our group who had caught colds, but the line was too long.
Then we were in a flatter area, still green, but a dusty green. Shepherds wearing straw hats and vests herded their sheep. We passed groups of brightly clad and mismatched people standing along the road as if waiting for a bus.
flat area east of Marrakesh
We stopped after 1:00 at another Pharmacie. There I bought two pens because my pens were running low on ink.
We drove around the outskirts of Marrakesh and then south on R203 toward Toubkal Parc National, North Africa’s highest mountain range, known by local Berbers as “Idraren Draren” (Mountain of Mountains). It towers above the Haouz plain, dividing it from the Sahara. The High Atlas runs diagonally across Morocco for almost 1,000 km, but the Toubkal region contains the best peaks. The first roads cut through this region were in the early 20th century. Before that, there were only mule trails leading from the Sahara to the northern plains. The highest mountain in North Africa is the snow-capped Jebel Toubkal.
We wound along steep mountain roads higher and higher, with linseed, rocks and streams in the valley, and the snow-covered High Atlas before us. We stopped to eat at a restaurant where I ordered an avocado with shrimp salad and mango juice. The waiter was terribly disorganized and our meals came out piecemeal. It was a super long and frustrating wait; we were there for 1 1/2 hours. I hate such incompetence and hate waiting around for such a long time when I just want to get to our destination. Of course, Susan was always sympathetic to this: “Oh, he’s so overworked, poor guy.” I, on the other hand, feel that when I’m paying for something, there should be a certain level of competence. I hate wasting so much time sitting around at interminable lunches.
Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
from the restaurant to Imlil
By 4:00, we’d arrived at Imlil (elevation 1,740m), the launching point for trekkers into the High Atlas. We loaded our bags onto the donkeys, and then hiked uphill to the neighboring Aroumd (aka Armed or Armoud) at 1,960m. We passed a burbling stream, stone houses, a mosque, and shady apple orchards. We crossed wet creek beds, streams and some gravelly terrain. Many of the group went ahead quickly and left the slower of us behind. Aziz got irritated that the group was so spread out and wasn’t keeping together as a team. Several times, we lost sight of those ahead and had no idea at forks in the path where to go.
loading the donkeys
loading the donkeys
loading the donkeys
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Father Anthony brings up the rear
snow covered High Atlas Mountains
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
orchards
orchards
the donkeys climbing
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
I found a nice collection of doors along the way. They reminded me of Omani doors.
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
arrival in Aroumd
We finally arrived at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech, run by Azizi Lacha. We had to redistribute ourselves in rooms: Susan and I shared with Tammy. We sat on the terrace and had mint tea and fresh popped popcorn.
balcony at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
common room at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
From the balcony, we had a view of the mountains. Aroumd is tucked into the folds of the High Atlas in the Ait Mizane Valley. Jbel Adj and Jbel Agelzim are two peaks that tower overhead in their snow-covered glory. The air was fresh, clear and cool, and it was pleasant to be so far from civilization and traffic.
view of the snow-covered High Atlas from Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
I went out to take a walk through the village and Yulian (nicknamed Nana) asked if she could come along. Natalie also joined. We climbed to the top of the village for views into the valley from where we’d started our hike. We kept trying to remember all the turns we took so we’d be able to find our way back: “take a left between 64 & 65 at the green door,” etc.
rug in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
We took turns posing for pictures near the top of the town and saw the mountains all around as well as the valley below.
High Atlas Mountains
Natalie in Aroumd
Yulian in Aroumd
looking into the valley
We found a poor little kid (goat) with deformed front legs. Natalie picked some greens and fed them to it.
Natalie feeds the deformed goat
We walked back downhill by the gardens and a falaj (watercourse). Natalie and Yulian continued to walk along the falaj, while I walked uphill to a charming house. A man and woman sitting on the terrace told me a different way I should walk as I was encroaching on their private home.
gardens near falaj in Aroumd
me in Aroumd
village of Aroumd
gardens in Aroumd
private home in Aroumd
gardens in Aroumd
On the way back to the auberge, cheeky little kids kept making finger gestures at me, but I had no idea what they meant. When I said “Salaam u alaykum,” they repeated it to me in a mocking way. Natalie said when she walked past a little girl, they said hello to one another, but once she’d walked past, she thought the girl said “F*#k” with a smile. I said maybe the girl was saying the Arabic فـقــد (faqad) or “lost.” I had remembered learning that word when I studied Arabic and thinking how it sounded like our expression of profanity.
local girl in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
Dinner was communal with couscous and veggies (always overcooked) and roasted chicken and the same old Moroccan soup. We had orange quarters for dessert. There didn’t seem to be much variety in the Moroccan diet. It was just okay.
The most fun we had was playing a game Gabriel had on his phone, a kind of game where an animal name showed up on the phone and we had to get him to guess it. Later, we played another version using actions: “picking apples,” “bungee-jumping,” “ventriloquist,” that we acted out to get a person to guess. It was hilarious! We were all laughing our heads off. One answer was “South Africa,” and I said “Hey mon.” Gabe said, “That’s Jamaica!” and we couldn’t stop laughing. It was a boisterous and crazy time and it was fun because it included everyone in the group and wasn’t cliquish.
Everyone badmouthed poor Father Anthony, and Natalie was supposed to share a room with him in our tight communal quarters, but in protest, she slept in the common area. It got rather cold in the mountains at night, but we all bundled up in our fuzzy blankets and managed to make it through the night.
*Steps: 12,568, or 5.33 miles*
*Wednesday, April 17, 2019*
**********************
“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose.
One of my intentions was to write about how I revel in (or resist) the experience. Do I bask in the light, the breeze, the rustling of leaves on the trees? Do I linger over cuisine and wine? Truly possessing a scene is making a conscious effort to observe closely.
It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation. You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose. You can also include photos, of course.
Include the link in the comments below by Monday, April 13 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, April 14, I’ll include your links in that post.
This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂
I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!
At breakfast this morning in Merzouga, Father Anthony asked about my background, and I summed it up for him. For some reason, he said I was a “battler.”
We left our hotel at 8:15. As we drove, we were surrounded by reg, or hard-packed desert, with sagebrush and small brown mountains in the distance. Plastic bags and refuse were scattered all along the roadside. We had to brake quickly for a pack of dogs.
We stopped for gas in Mecissi at the 212 Petrol Station. We drove on a dirt road through the small town that seemed under an invasive kind of construction. Pink and coral buildings sported green metal doors. Rubble was everywhere. A donkey plodded along carrying a man and a huge load of greens.
Aziz sang in the front of the van “Ayawow!” and we tried to sing along with him. Black-robed women walked among date palms. Vegetable markets and an Alimentation General offered food for sale, while the Pharmacie offered drugs. The local mosque was pink with green doors. We went over a very bumpy road, so dusty that even the date palms had turned brown. Mudbrick walls deteriorated all around us. The farms were small family-run plots of onion fields.
Hundreds of small hills popped up all around us. These bumps were apparently an underground irrigation system – wells 25-30 meters deep, connected to each other all the way to the oasis. They weren’t being used currently because of a drought. It took several months for each village to dig its own well. As electric lines appeared, Aziz told us the water table was deeper here.
We could see the Anti-Atlas Mountains, which are full of silver and copper mines. We passed a Trilobite Museum, featuring extinct marine arthropod fossils. Houses were in various states of completion, roofless, with large reddish-brown bricks. Villas expanded in size. Again, more black-robed women and pink villas. One mosque was terra-cotta colored with a gold-edged minaret. The spreads of date palm plantations reminded me of Oman.
We stopped at Cafe Touroug for coffee. Bougainvillea cascaded down the front of an open air cafe with colorful plastic chairs under a thatched roof.
Cafe Touroug
Cafe Touroug
Cafe Touroug
We passed the famous goats in the trees. Mario and I had seen a lot of those in Oman, but here, according to Aziz, people forced them into the trees so tourists would stop to take pictures (for a price). They were too far from the road to get a decent photo.
We stopped in El Khorbat, where we listened to Berber music and I bought a turquoise Berber scarf. It was a festive time.
Berber musicians in El Khorbat
Berber musicians in El Khorbat
Berber musicians in El Khorbat
We ate a fabulous lunch at Musee des Oasis Gite Restaurant: cool gazpacho, meatball tagine, fries, and apples and bananas with yogurt and fig sauce.
our lunch restaurant in El Khorbat
meatball tagine
apples and bananas with yogurt and fig sauce
view from the restaurant
garden at the restaurant
painted rocks at the restaurant
painted rocks
painted rocks
We then visited the Musee des Oasis that taught us a few things about Berber history.
Musee de Oasis
Musee de Oasis
In the Berber oasis, handicrafts were undertaken to fill local needs. Ironwork was a labor undertaken specifically by black people. The silversmith’s work was a specialty of Jewish people. Carpentry and saddle making were both done exclusively by men. Women wove carpets and blankets and embroidered shawls, as complementary activities to their housework.
carpentry and saddlemaking
weaving
Rope manufacturing
pottery
pottery
pottery
carpet
Each tribe had a special mode of dress and ornamentation. Men dressed in wool or cotton gowns, the jellaba, or sometimes a cloak called azennar or selham, complemented with a leather shepherd’s bag and a dagger. They tied a black or white turban on their head.
Women wrapped up with a shawl embroidered with pictures of their tribe. The shawl covered the body and often the head, and sometimes even the face. Tattoos on the face showed tribal membership. They wore a lot of silver jewelry. Nowadays, tattoos are disappearing and jewelry is often made of gold.
men’s jellaba
women’s clothing
men’s clothing
bags for men
clothing for men and women
The Jewish population had a synagogue and a Hebrew cemetery in every Hebrew village. Their activities included trade, money lending, silverwork, and other handicrafts. Most of the Jewish population immigrated to Israel in 1967 as a consequence of the Six-Day War.
The Islamic population had a mosque in each village for noon prayers on Fridays. There was usually a cemetery near the village, where the dead were buried wrapped in a white cloth, without a coffin, and laid on their right side to face Mecca. Two stones on the ground showed the position of each grave.
Musee des Oasis
The basics of the diet were wheat flour, corn, flour and barley. The women typically baked bread and made couscous for dinner. For lunch, they ate vegetables and pieces of meat cooked in an oil sauce with spices added. In the north Atlas, this mixture was prepared with a conic lid named a tagine.
Otherwise, in ancient times, people cooked with clay pots, which are now substituted by aluminum pressure cookers. For breakfast, people eat bread with oil and drink tea.
Henna, an herb exported all over Morocco, was applied to wounds and skin illnesses (not always with good results), and it is today used by women to dye the palms of their hands, their feet, or their hair for aesthetic reasons and for good luck.
food preparation
food preparation
We walked around the preserved mudbrick buildings, which again reminded me of Oman.
mudbrick buildings
mudbrick buildings
mudbrick buildings
mudbrick buildings
mudbrick buildings
mudbrick buildings
gathering spot
gathering spot
gathering spot
Finally, I came across some paintings that showed the design and decor of a typical Berber home.
drawings of Berber homes
drawings of Berber homes
drawings of Berber homes
We left El Khorbat at 2:20, and had another hour to our hotel in Tinghir.
El Khorbat
El Khorbat
On the way, we stopped at a Pharmacie as Susan had a tickle in her throat and René had developed a head cold. We left the little village with its Boulangerie and Patisserie. All around was red dirt and a rock desert.
*Steps: 13,835, or 5.86 miles*
*Monday, April 15, 2019*
**************
On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.
This morning, we said goodbye to the satellite dishes of Casablanca. It didn’t mean we were leaving Casablanca yet; it simply meant we were moving out of our Airbnb with its 7th floor patio and moving to the hotel where we’d meet our G Adventures group. We moved out after eating breakfast at our go-to breakfast spot, Café de France.
satellite dishes of Casablanca
our Airbnb patio
We took a white taxi to Moroccan House Hotel Casablanca on Rue Mohamed SMIHA, where we were lucky enough to be able to check in right away. Susan gathered some laundry and turned it over to the concierge. The hotel was a bit over-the-top, with its frilly canopied bed, its two beds with brightly painted headboards, and paintings of harem girls playing tambourines for a belly dancer.
Moroccan House Hotel Casablanca
lobby of Moroccan House Hotel Casablanca
our room at Moroccan House Hotel Casablanca
our room at Moroccan House Hotel Casablanca
me in our room at Moroccan House Hotel Casablanca
From our new hotel, we walked around Marché Central, an arcaded and walled market with fruit, flower, fish and meat vendors, and seafood cafés.
flowers in Marché
a very old newspaper on a wall in Marché
We wandered by and through the modern Casa Port train station, with its shops and eateries.
Casa Port train station
Casa Port train station
wall mural near Casa Port train station
Casa Port train station
From there we wandered aimlessly around the Ancienne Medina, mainly looking at bags, lanterns, magnets and scarves. I loved the paintings but didn’t know how I’d lug them all over Morocco and then Italy. I bought two scarves, so the madness was already beginning!
We returned to our dinner place from the night before, Casa José, where we shared an avocado & shrimp salad and some mushroom & ham croquettes. Stomachs full, we wandered more through the medina, admiring tiles, minarets, doors and windows. We heard some yelling and saw a brawl brewing between light and dark-skinned Moroccans. A woman was swinging an umbrella as a crowd gathered. Susan and I got the heck out of there.
Ancienne Medina
Ancienne Medina
Ancienne Medina
Ancienne Medina
Ancienne Medina
hair salon in Ancienne Medina
door in Ancienne Medina
We ended up back in the area we’d walked two days prior, near the Rialto Theater, and situated ourselves under an awning at a café directly across from it. We watched a mini-drama unfold as someone valet-parking cars created a huge honking traffic jam. We sat for a long time, whiling the time away, sipping a sparkling water and reading torn-out Lonely Planet guidebook pages about Tangier.
Rialto Theater
near the Rialto Theater
me at a cafe across from the Rialto Theater
Back at the hotel, we met Aziz, a Berber, who would be our CEO (Chief Experience Officer) for the 14-day trip through Morocco. He announced to us that he was single and available. We had 14 people altogether:
Me – from northern Virginia, USA.
Susan – from Maryland, USA.
Christian – from Germany.
Natalie (39) – from Australia, worked in London.
Father Anthony – a 76-year-old bodybuilding Australian priest who mostly worked in academia and economics.
Edward – one-half of a married couple from British Columbia. He was director of a school in UAE for 12 years; he also worked in Nanjing, China for a while, and Turkey as well.
Elizabeth – the other half of the married couple. She worked with orphans and was a physical therapist.
Tienchai, who goes by “Chai,” a pediatrician from Bangkok.
René – a dentist from Vancouver (half of a married couple).
Gabriel – American, and the other half of the Vancouver couple. He worked at the Center for Disease Control in infectious diseases.
Theresa from near Beijing, China. She didn’t speak much English.
Tammy, a Chinese-Canadian woman from Toronto.
Yulian (39), a Chinese-Canadian woman from Toronto. She worked as a legal assistant and lived with her parents. She was originally from Nanning, China, where I spent a year teaching English from 2014-2015.
Sue, a Chinese-Canadian woman from Toronto.
The last four women belonged to a travel club in Toronto that put people together to travel.
René and Gabriel seemed friendly and talkative. Gabriel applied for Canadian citizenship as soon as Trump was elected. He’d lived in Canada for twelve years already, and was debating whether he should renounce his American citizenship. Once you renounce it, apparently you can never get it back. This was the fourth G Adventures tour for René and Gabriel, (they’d been to Sri Lanka and the Maldives, Jordan, and on a short trip to Hanoi and Halong Bay) and for Christian. Chai had been with G Adventures to Egypt and was booked for another trip as well.
Most of us, except Chai and the four Asian ladies (who had a reservation at Rick’s Café) ate dinner at a cool restaurant where we sat on cushioned seats around brass tables. I ordered Kofta tajine (meatballs with carrots and potatoes in a hot terra cotta dish). It was good but made my stomach rumble a bit. No alcohol was served. It was a good time to get to know our fellow travelers.
Gabriel, René, me, Natalie, Christian, Susan, Edward, Elizabeth, and Father Anthony
Kofta tajine
our restaurant
the restaurant
The following day, our tour would take us 4 1/2-5 hours to Tangier, where we’d spend a couple of hours in Tangier’s medina. Then we’d drive two hours further to Chefchaouen.
*Steps: 15,130, or 6.49 miles*
*Monday, April 8, 2019*
**********************
“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose. One of my intentions was to write using my five senses, which I still struggle with, but tried to incorporate here.
It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation. You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose. (This page is a work in process.) You can also include photos, of course.
Include the link in the comments below by Monday, January 27 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, January 28, I’ll include your links in that post.
This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂
I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!
In twenty-nineteen, I: Cracked a molar and suffered through a root canal and new crown. Took my first-ever drawing class, a found poetry class, a watercolor class and a bullet journal class. Went on a Midwestern Triangle Road trip (Louisville & Lexington, KY and Cincinnati, OH), with side trips to Indiana and Illinois to visit my sister. Went on a tour with G Adventures all over Morocco, then met Mike in Italy to visit Rome, the Cinque Terre, Florence, Tuscany and Umbria. Went on a short road trip to several towns in Delaware. Took an epic road trip, where I drove 7,505 miles across America to the Great Plains and explored Nebraska, South Dakota and North Dakota, with dips into Wyoming and Colorado. Sampled too many restaurants to count in Charleston, S.C. with my daughter. Read 56 books out of my goal of 50, with my top three being Dalva by Jim Harrison, The Fall of a Sparrow by Robert Hellenga, and In Country by Bobbie Ann Mason (My Year in Books 2019). Published 174 posts on my blog.
In January, I: Suffered through a 2-hour root canal on my #14 molar. Suffered again the next day while my dentist drilled my tooth down, made a mold for a crown, and put a temporary crown on. Had a permanent crown put in. Enjoyed staying inside and cozy during a snowstorm with 9″ of accumulation, another snowstorm, and sub-freezing temperatures. Walked through Vienna neighborhoods and brown woods and around lakes under metal gray skies. Enjoyed a sushi and sake night out. Finally got blinds for three of our back windows, after many years without any. Learned about drawing: about perspective, planes, basic shapes, contour lines, shading, depth of field, and relationships among objects in a grouping. Booked a two week adventure in Morocco with G Adventures. Started planning trips: the “Midwest Triangle trip” and trips to Morocco and central Italy. Enjoyed the movie If Beale Street Could Talk, and read 7 books out of my goal of 50 for the year, my favorites being Jane Smiley’s Barn Blind and Christopher Castellani’s The Saint of Lost Things.
a Sunday walk in Vienna, Virginia
a cloudy walk around Lake Newport
sushi night out – Jan 11
snow days, Jan 15
snow days, Jan 15
my drawing class at the Torpedo Factory in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia 1/16
a face with planes 1/16
Drawing planes 1/16
Drawing shapes & contours 1/23
Drawing shapes & contours 1/23
Drawing shapes & contours 1/23
Drawing shapes & contours 1/23
lunch after drawing class at Mai Thai
walk in neighborhood woods
mossy tree
drawing groupings in relation to each other 1/30
drawing groupings in relation to each other 1/30
drawing groupings in relation to each other 1/30
drawing groupings in relation to each other 1/30
In February, I: Wept while leaving the movie theater after watching the devastating and hearbreaking movie Capernaum. Attended an exploratory service at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Reston, where the minister encouraged white people to open up conversations about racism with others. Enjoyed dinners at Kobkun Fine Thai Cuisine and bartaco. Enjoyed the Japanese movie Shoplifters that explored the nature of assembled families. Continued my drawing class until one was cancelled because of snow and one was missed because of traveling. Celebrated my husband’s 65th birthday with my sister-in-law at the Greek restaurant, Nostos. Drove to Indiana amidst silos, barns, cows and farmland, where I visited the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial and the George Rogers Clark National Historical Park. Visited my sister at her new mid-century modern home in Murphysboro, Illinois and explored local eateries in Carbondale. Drove to the Garden of the Gods in the Shawnee National Forest on a springlike day, and took a walk amidst whimsically-shaped rocks. Felt inspired by my sister’s artwork and her various collections, including artistic cigarette cards and early editions of classic books. Got caught up watching Michael Cohen’s testimony before the House Oversight and Reform Committee. Got hooked on the TV series Happy Valley. Drove in icy rain from Murphysboro to Louisville, Kentucky, where I visited Churchill Downs Racetrack and felt inspired to attend the Kentucky Derby sometime in the future. Read 6 books out of my goal of 50 for the year (bringing my total to 13), my favorites being Christine Mangan’s Tangerine and Elizabeth Berg’s The Year of Pleasures.
still life in drawing class
my Feb. 6 drawing
walk in Old Town Alexandria after drawing class
bridge over the Ohio River in Louisville, KY
Driving through Indiana
Lincoln Boyhood Home
Lincoln Boyhood Home
Lincoln Boyhood Home
part of the living history at Lincoln Boyhood Home
silos in Indiana
George Rogers Clark National Historic Park
George Rogers Clark National Historic Park
Garden of the Gods in the Shawnee National Forest, Illinois
Garden of the Gods in the Shawnee National Forest, Illinois
Garden of the Gods in the Shawnee National Forest, Illinois
Eateries in Carbondale, IL
brie topped with cranberries and green onions
scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy and veggies
Long Branch
my sister’s house in Murphysboro
my sister’s artwork
my sister’s cigarette cards collection
Churchill Downs, Louisville, KY
Churchill Downs, Louisville, KY
Churchill Downs, Louisville, KY
Churchill Downs, Louisville, KY
Churchill Downs, Louisville, KY
fancy hat from Churchill Downs
Also in February, I: Began a Found Poetry class, where we created Erasure, Black-out, and Cut-out poems, as well as Sentos.
Erasure poem
Blackout poem
Cut-out poem part 1
In March, I: Learned about bourbon and the Lewis and Clark expedition at the Frazier History Museum. Felt grateful for the controversial boxer’s fight against racism at the Muhammad Ali Center in Louisville, Kentucky. Enjoyed mural art in Louisville and especially in Cincinnati, Ohio. Enjoyed a blast from the past at Cincinnati’s American Sign Museum. Learned all about the history of slavery and enslaved people all over the world at the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center. Took a long walk through downtown Cincinnati, along and across the Ohio River on the Roebling Suspension Bridge, to Covington, KY. Tried to stay warm at Krohn Conservatory, Cincinnati Art Museum, and Findley Market in a cold snow-rain mixture. Marveled over stained glass and amazing mosaics at St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington, KY. Ate decadent foods like Cincinnati chili, biscuits & gravy, and chicken & dumplings too many times to count. Learned more than I ever wanted to know about the breeding of stallions at Claiborne Farm in Lexington, KY. Tasted bourbon several times, both at the Evan Williams Bourbon Experience in Louisville and again at Town Branch in Lexington. Invited my friend Susan over for dinner so we could plan our Morocco trip. Wrapped up my drawing class. Welcomed my friend and colleague Graham, who taught with me in Japan, for a visit and took him on a grand tour of Great Falls, Gettysburg, and Antietam, all in one day. Ate injera, split lentils, yellow peas, collard greens and chickpea stew with Graham at Enatye Ethiopian Restaurant. Watched the foreign movies Everybody Knows and Transit. Finished two more books, my favorite being Calling Me Home, bringing my total to 15 books out of my goal of 50.
Frazier Museum
Muhammad Ali Center
Street art in Louisville
American Sign Museum in Cincinnati
American Sign Museum in Cincinnati
National Underground Railroad Freedom Center
Ferris Wheel Cincinnati
walk along the Ohio River in Cincinnati
John A. Roebling Suspension Bridge, Cincinnati
Krohn Conservatory
Artworks Cincinnati
Artworks Cincinnati
Stained glass in St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington, KY
St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington, KY
Skyline Chili
home in Clifton Gaslight District, Cincinnati
Art Deco movie theater in Cincinnati
stalliion at Claiborne Farm, Lexington, KY
Claiborne Farm, Lexington, KY
War Front
Mike and I at Secretariat’s grave
Colville Covered Bridge near Lexington
Town Branch
Home cooking at Ramsey’s
My final drawing class
my last drawing in class
me with Graham at Great Falls, VA
Gettysburg, PA
Antietam, Maryland
Antietam
In April, I: Visited Meadowlark Gardens to see spring in bloom. Traveled to Morocco with G Adventures. Shared a dinner of chicken tajine and kofta squala with my friend Susan in Casablanca. Visited the world’s third largest mosque, Hassan II. Took a petit taxi to Rick’s Cafe of movie fame. Walked through shantytowns to an upscale French restaurant on the sea, Cabestan. Said goodbye to the satellite dishes of Casablanca and joined our 14-person G-Adventures tour group, with Aziz at the helm. Looked across the Strait of Gibraltar from Tangier and were told if Moroccans could swim they’d all escape to Spain. Wandered through the medina of the blue city, Chefchaouen, painted blue in the 1930s allegedly to keep mosquitoes away. Found oranges in plastic tubs bobbing about in water flowing from a hose and over the top of the tub. Visited the Roman ruins of Volubilis in the fertile plain near Meknès, admiring mosaic floors in houses called House of the Nymphs Bathing and House of the Acrobat. Held mint to my nose to smother the horrible smells of the Chaouwata Tanneries in Fes. Enjoyed a hot stone massage. Saw an entire military caravan parked along the road, its soldiers scattered on the plain “watering” the bushes, on a 10-hour drive to Merzouga. Enjoyed an amazing picnic lunch at Gorges da Ziz, in a landscape that resembled Oman’s. Slept in a tent in Merzouga and had to run across icy sand in the middle of the night to use the toilet. Took a camel ride at sunset in the Sahara. Listened to Berber singers in El Khorbat. Took a lovely walk through an oasis at Tinghir. Climbed into the village of Aït Ben Haddou, used as a setting in films such as Gladiator, Babel, Kingdom of Heaven and Game of Thrones. Walked through apple orchards and a burbling stream to Armoud in the High Atlas Mountains while donkeys carried our bags. Played a charades-type game where we had to get others to guess animals and actions such as “bungee jumping.” Fell in love with the blue boats of Essaouira on the coast. Almost got run over by motorcycles and trucks in the Marrakech medina.
