PART TWO – THE SAHARA AND OTHER GOLDEN DELIGHTS

Sunday | Tour Day 2

We all manage to get some sleep last night but not nearly enough due to the unrelenting and stifling air in the Kasbah rooms. We depart at 8:30am straight after breakfast, which we enjoy sitting on the open air terrace with the other tourists. The breakfast is nothing flash – bread with butter and jam and an instant coffee or tea. But the location and view is rather impressive! The Kasbah Hotel is the mid-point layover before journeying to The Sahara. We are getting closer.

We drive through cities that are new – new buildings and new apartment blocks are being built due to the steady migration of Moroccans who were leaving life in the mountains for better lifestyle, jobs and opportunities in the more built up areas. We pass by a large silver mine which Mohammad informs us is one of the main employers here in town. It’s an extremely hazy day today so the views to the mountains are not as clear as we’d like for the photos. We notice flashes of green colour. Where ever there is a river bed there is an intense patch of greenery – palm date trees thrive in these valleys and add an impressive spice of colour to the usual brown and barren landscape.

We learn lots from Mohammad on this journey. Another is that camel milk is consumed here but it’s very expensive. Mohammad tells us about 100 Dirham for just 1 litre of the sweeter tasting camel milk. We do not get to try the milk, but I assume it must taste like the buffalo milk we had while living in rural India.

The Tales of Tinghri

The first thing today is that we are on another tour. The girls are less than impressed with this result and there’s a bit of outrage shared amongst the teens and tween in the van. Bottom lips are out. We are taking a tour guide and exploring a Berber town and meeting local people along the way. We have a guide already assigned to us and as our car pulls up on the side of the road we see our man with a broad friendly smile. We have no idea what we are doing here. The communication on this tour is limited, but on the flip side it’s nice to go with the flow and just see what happens. We start the tour with a few last grumbles from the kids but we are all out of the car and obediently following behind our smiling tour guide Larson into a community garden in the town of Tinghri.

Larson begins the tour by walking us into the lush community gardens and talks about the history and the people of this place. I look at the girls who are already not coping with the amount of information coming their way from Larson. “Berbers, nomads, Charwi (desert people) all live here in this small town whereas the Arabic people tend to live in the bigger cities.”

The tour takes us through the Berber community garden, near the Kasbah, and Larson shows us what is grown here and its benefits – alfa alfa (good for fever), date palm trees (male and female) with the most expensive dates 150 Dirham per kilogram (A$20), corn, lavender (the purple colour from the flower is used as a dye), peach trees, potato plants, pomegranate and more.

It’s lovely and cool in the garden. Women work their donkeys who are loaded up with large piles of green shrubs and sticks. The unique winding up sound of a donkey call echoes throughout the garden area and is pleasant and unusual to hear. The donkey’s long ears and short legs make them look very so cute (am I’m sure they’re absolutely stubborn!).

Renovating a Mosque

After we walk in and around the garden we come to a building that looks more like it has been torn down. An ancient and dilapidated mosque stands here and we are introduced to a Moroccan man who is committed to renovating it. We walk upstairs to the top of the roof where we are told the prayer call outs were made to the community below. That was pre-speaker days. It’s a lovely old mosque inside and many men seem to live here it seems but I wonder how much of the mosque can be repaired as the damage all around it looks too far gone.

Inside the mosques are scores of photos and relics from another time. It’s a treasure chest containing relics and small antiques. As we stand on the roof top we look out to a glorious elevated view of the gardens and behind us an alternative view of brown sandstone buildings that was previously a maze of alleyways and homes that are now crumbling into disrepair.

We are then taken to the main township area of Tinghri which was originally built by the Jewish people and in 1960 when the Jewish families left it was handed over to the Berbers. The Jewish people and their legacy of trade is held in high esteem to this day amongst the Berbers. The Jewish brought with them and established commerce in silver and leather and according to Larson, the Berbers continue to be thankful to the Jews for giving them these opportunities.

The Berber Carpet Man

Larson takes us in the heart of the Tinghri township. Up and down alleyways, under archways and through the main shopping precinct. We’re told that we’re going to be meeting a traditional Berber family who are also in the business of selling handmade carpets. There we are going to enjoy a traditional mint tea in their home. We pass by beggars on the kerb who hold their hand out while mumbling to themselves. It’s a reality in many of these parts of the world – as soon as beggars see tourists the children make it their duty to follow them around asking for money as discreetly as possible.

We pass by stalls selling henna – both dry leaves and powder form – and a boy selling prickly pear fruit from his cart. Steve and I purchase two prickly pears and although the flesh of the fruit is cold when the young boy peels the skin off, it’s full of pips that crunch with every bite. Steve is struggling with it too. I can’t enjoy mine and end up carrying it through the market area until I find a corner to discreetly discard it. At least we’ve tried it.

We come to the part time home of the Berber family. We enter the elongated home of Abdal and his wife (I think she’s his wife) Hannan. Abdal speaks English very well and welcomes us all into an elongated room that showcases a carpet hand loom, colourful balls of wool and many finished carpets. Abdal wears a bright blue robe and turban and informs us he’s a “Twalik” (not sure of spelling) and he belongs to the blue men of the desert. If you didn’t know it already, wearing blue is designed to keep the mosquitos away.

Abdal tells us that he and his family live in the city for six months of the year, in the summer months and then six months in the desert during the cooler months. He tells us it’s hard to live and work in the desert during the summer months so they pack up and relocate to the city to sell their handwoven carpets. He also tells us that the legacy of his tribe do not trade in money. Instead they trade with the carpets that they make; carpets are their currency. Previously Abdal’s parents had no need for money to trade and they purchased goods and services by trading what they knew best and had access to easily: carpets and silver.

The carpets are made from either sheep, camel, or silk or a combination of any of these. The silk does not come from the silk worm but from a plant from the Agave family. These plants are grown and hand loomed in many parts of Morocco, especially within The Sahara. The vegetable fibres are taken from the plants and dyed to form different colours in the carpet. Abdal gives us a demonstration of all the different carpets and the significance of each pattern in the carpet. He rolls them out in front of us with an air of confidence and arrogance.

Abdul has a strong personality and is obviously a slick sales performer. I wouldn’t want to cross Abdul in any way as I suspect he’d be an intimidating force. We watch him like he’s on the stage at some expo selling his finest range of carpets or he could even be a magical carpet selling character from some desert movie. We all enjoy his hospitality of mint tea and his showmanship of demonstrating what the various carpets he unrolls are made from and how long they took “his” women to make.

When he explains how and who make the carpets I lose some of the shiny appeal I previously had for the blue Berber desert man as he explains the women in his tribe are uneducated and do not attend school ever as according to Abdal, “they can think with their own mind.” Like that is some excuse for not educating women! Reading between the lines is made easier now. The reality of his carpet empire is that “his” women are central to making it successful. Without subservient women to make the carpets, which is labour and time intensive, there are no carpets for Abdal to sell. It takes one woman 18 months to make a carpet he’s showing us by working just 2-3 hours per day. The intense physical nature of the work doesn’t allow for these women to work longer periods of time as it’s too hard on the women’s fingers, back and eyes.

My guess is that if women were educated they’d be choosing better quality opportunities for their lives rather than slaving over threads and carpet looms all their lives and living according to a man’s/husband’s command. As we sit on the floor cross legged, the girls look to me for a reaction when Abdul mentions they do not educate “his” women and there is a shared fury at the straight forward and uninhibited nature of what he’s telling us. But all of my feminist girls, including me, bite tongues and continue watching the carpet show while sipping on Moroccan mint tea.

We are also shown a decorative silver chain with pins like those on belt buckles that wealthier Berber families give to their daughters. Throughout a woman’s life they keep this ornate piece of jewellery and wear it on their clothing to show their marital status. Depending on which side of her body she is wearing the “marriage chain” it will show other if a particular woman is available, engaged or married. We laugh as it is literally a chain-like piece of jewellery with two pretty buckles, so yes we conclude the Berber women are literally kept in chains! Abdal actually makes a joke about women and marriage and chains and laughs along with us on this one. But the reality must be far from laughing matter.

We chat about the culture and customs of the Berber desert people. From the annual Brahmin festival where a lorry of sheep is delivered into town and used for sacrificing to the gods to the various religions that have changed over time – 1^st religion – Jewish, 2^nd religion – Christianity, and 3^rd religion – Islam to the September bride festival where the giving of carpets as wedding gifts to a bride’s husband’s family is the norm. He grabs a couple of cape-like garments and before we know it we are standing up in the middle of the room showing off the capes that are worn by women in the colder months.

We find the whole lesson on carpet making intriguing, but we are not here to purchase thousand dollar carpets. We thank Abdal for his hospitality and move along. The tours here are just like the tours in India – making tourists come into a Berber’s family home for tea but being given the hard sell to purchase something. Abdal is good about us not wanting to purchase anything and we depart. The young wife (well we think so anyway) comes up to Charlie and places a plait of red threads around her wrist. I look into her eyes and wish her the best for her life.

Larson wishes to take us to his family’s business now. It’s a silver shop. We are reluctant to go, as we do not want his brother who runs the shop to have expectations of us buying up on his silver ware. But he assures us there is no pressure. Just look!

The shop is quite amazing as we walk in and around it – antique jewellery and loads of silver ware. There are plenty of things that take my fancy but I’m not here to buy anything. I’m at the end of the Berber shopping spree, and so too are the kids, and we just want to be back in the van travelling to our destination.

We thank Larson for showing us his family’s silver shop and depart for the van. It’s been an interesting part of the tour and we have experienced and seen much of the Berber way of life in just a couple of hours. We feel very fortunate to have walked through a town that not many people will ever get to see – the authentic townships where people of the desert come to trade their goods and make some money. It really does feel like a step back in time here, almost an old world charm mixed with old world poverty. A world of contrasts from luxurious carpets and silver to the young kids that follow us through the winding streets holding their little hands out quietly begging for money.

Feeling Tiny at Toudgha Gorge

Just before lunch, we stop off briefly at the immense Toudgha Gorge. We get out of the van and walk the length of the gorge. A stream runs through the middle of the gorge and on either side of the stream these huge rock formations jut up and out from the earth and tower high above us. It takes our breath away and it’s really hard to capture the magnificence and significance of this place through the lens. All I know is that right now I feel very insignificant standing here. Another perspective of just how inconsequential my life is compared to mighty mother nature.

The gorge area is crowded with weekend campers pitching tents tents, Sunday picnickers and families, and people getting cool by strolling through the crystal clear water. The water on the ankles is very cold and it’s a welcome feeling for everyone. The locals have set up picnic rungs and chairs, music and singing, as well as shisha up on the ledge of the gorge. This place has a lovely relaxed vibe about it.

After walking through the gorge, we stop for lunch at a nearby restaurant. It’s 100 Dh each for lunch. There doesn’t seem to be any way of getting out of this lunch as there are no other cafes in sight for us to go. It’s the usual lunch stop for all those on tour. We sit in a lovely courtyard at the back of the café with a river flowing behind us and women walking back from collecting bundles of sticks carried on their backs. It’s tranquil and quiet and we sit and lap it up.

Steve and I order a traditional tagine of chicken and vegetables. Sticking with traditional meals in Morocco seems to be the best option for receiving the tastiest meals. However, Jarrod and the girls all order spaghetti and are very disappointed. The pasta is seriously overcooked and we complain as it’s just too unpleasant to eat. After some serious complaining and then negotiating we are paying half price for the spaghetti meals. And as the other tour groups leave, we watch as the café cats appear on the vacant tables eating up any scraps of leftover food on top and underneath the outdoor tables.

We drive to another viewing outlook and we say goodbye to our guide Larson. He’s been a lovely guide and full of information about Berber life.

A Changing Landscape

The landscape starts to transform from steep, rocky and impervious mountains to a flat desolate landscape of sand and the odd acacia tree. It’s still and hazy outside, and all we can see are numerous irrigation tunnels. A pile of dirt and sand rests on top while an underground tunnel seemingly expands below.

It’s 42 degrees Celsius and the temperature gauge on the van is climbing the more we drive.

Carriere Fossils

We stop off at a desolate factory-looking area. It’s where we are greeted by a man who runs and operates a factory of cutting and polishing stone and extracting 300 million years old fossils.

We learn about Trilobite, Amonite, and Orthocer that existed 360 millions years ago and now they can be all yours in the form of a lovely rounded and polished stone dining table or a smaller coffee table. It’s an interesting factory, but not my cup of tea and we depart with a few trinkets for memories of our visit.

Back in the car. There are no more stops for food or fossils. We are driving straight to The Sahara.

Sahara Sighting @ 17:54

I lose sight of the end of the long black roads we are traveling on. It’s completely flat landscape on either side of us. There’s nothing out here except the acacia trees spotting the flatlands and the nomadic man’s dromedary camels that meander through these desolate lands.

But then there is something in the distance. The slight haze makes it hard to see clearly but as we get closer and closer it appears. The Sahara. It’s the same feeling as seeing the beach for the first time when you’re on holidays. This time it’s a desert! It’s a land of golden mountain peaks glimmering in the near sunset. It’s at once mystifying. The black stoney savanna and acacia trees and then these majestic, towering pyramids of golden sand. It’s the best way I can describe what we are seeing. The call out is made in the car – “there they are, look over here!” We are all looking with eyes and mouth wide open.

It’s 44 degrees Celsius outside and still climbing.

The road changes direction and we do not see the golden pyramids in front of us. We enter the local town and stop at a bike hire shop to enquire about quad bike rides on request from the kids. They’re quite pricey at 400 Dh 1 hour (A$54) or 900 Dh 1 hour buggies (A$122) for 2 people. We continue driving. Our four legged, one humped dromedary camel awaits.

Camel Riding into the Desert

We arrive at Nasser Palace Hotel. It’s a hotel that caters for the tourist industry of camel and desert safaris as well as offering accommodation. It’s here that we prepare ourselves for our overnight stay in the desert – water, scarves, small bag and camel. We leave the larger bags behind in the back of our van and pack small necessities that we think may be required for a night stay in a desert in a backpack: knickers, t-shirt and some deodorant and toothbrushes. The man and woman at the hotel help us with the art of folding and tucking the scarves around our head. All of us except Steve don a scarf to the desert and we are feeling the authenticity of being a desert camel rider now.

We are ready.

We walk out of the hotel gates and towards a bunch of camels that are laying down on the ground. These are our camels. The camel master sizes us up so we are placed on the best camel for our size and weight. The camel ride is for about 1.5 hours. We’re all quite excited about this part of the journey. The last time we rode camels was when we were in northern India, in Pushkar with Andrea, Luke and Harry. This time we are experiencing this camel trek with my brother Jarrod. Charlie is at the front with my camera, then Dacey, Steve, Jarrod, Ash, Billie and finally I’m on the last camel. We are led by a Berber man and the seven camels are all connected by rope to one another so that we form a long line of camels following each other.

We are in the desert at sunset with faces covered the view in front of us is gradually becoming more and more magnificent and glorious.

We stop half way for photos and get off the camels. Each of the camels has an awkward way of sitting down, and because I’m the last in line, I watch as everyone else is jerked forward in their camel saddles. It’s a matter of just holding on tight and leaning backwards and for me it helps with my eyes closed.

I’m literally pinching myself in amazement that we are experiencing such an epic journey on camel back. I now know what a real desert looks like. We climb up one of the sand dunes to its ridge and peak and all of just sit there taking in the view of golden sand that is all around us. It’s very quiet and peaceful. There’s nothing here. It’s beautiful.

We climb back up onto our camels are arrive at our Desert Berber tent. It’s an interesting set up like a camp with an internal area for sitting and eating. As we arrive there are already three Polish men lying on their beds outside their rooms. The girls are given a room with four singles, Jarrod another room, and Steve and I are in another. It’s hot as we sit down and enjoy a mint tea in the internal area of the camp. We go for a walk and climb the nearby sand dunes and look out at the beautiful landscape that is the desert. There’s nothing else except golden sand rising and lowering. Up and down. Peaks and troughs. We catch a waft of the meals being cooked for us at a nearby tent and are called back by the Berber man as dinner is being served.

As we sit inside the dinner tent it starts to rain. Large droplets hit the canvas tent heavily. We are sweating inside the tent so we all rush out to hopefully get some reprieve from a cool change. But its fleeting and doesn’t last long. The dinner is another three-course of hot vegetable soup with bread, chicken tagine, and then fruit and tubs of yogurt.

I’m not particularly hungry in this heat. And chose to leave the hot dinner tent and come out to lie on the mattress outside the sleeping tents. We have no cold water left, it’s all warm now. Whereas the Polish men have a bottle each still frozen. We start dreaming about icy cold water and suffer drinking warm water from now on.

It’s time to get some sleep but everyone finds it way too hot inside the tents. So we sleep on the mattresses that are placed outside the doorways to the sleeping tents and under the stars. All that we have with us to help us survive this hot night sleep in the desert is former Berrechid volunteer Andrei’s little green spray bottle. Throughout the first few hours of trying to relax and get some sleep that little green spray bottle was a life saver. The Polish men had their icy water but we had a spray bottle that worked its way up and down seven people throughout the night. I’m not sure what the Polish men must have been wondering, as the noises coming from our side of the Berber tent must have sounded quite bizarre – “please give me more”, “oh that’s soooo good”, “over here and here” etc (lol).

As we went to sleep the sky was clouded over so we couldn’t see the stars. We did manage to finally fall asleep but most of us woke up at 2.30am and saw the stars shining bright in the clear desert sky as well as the Milky Way streaking its way across the length of the sky. Again just beautiful and inspiring. I was lying flat on my back, I reached over for my glasses and put them over my eyes and looked up to appreciate the sight.

Monday | Tour Day 3 

Up at 5:30am, on the camels, and a stop to watch the sun appear from behind the dunes. Its completely amazing. We love every moment we have left out in this sand environment. As the photos show it was a spectacular sunrise and experience. Totally worth the early rise and limited sleep.

Charlie gets the drone out and sets it up but it’s not working due to SD card problems. Darn. She packs it up completely disappointed.

 

We journey to Nasser Palace Hotel via camel back, enjoy breakfast there and rather than take a shower we use the two packets of Wilderness Wipes that Steve received from my aunt Kathy for Christmas last year! They have come in very handy right now and will do the job until we get back to Marrakech. We’re back in the van with our happy go lucky driver Mohammad for our very long journey back to the bustling city of Marrakech.

We depart The Sahara at 8:40am.

We are only 60km from Algerian border and due to that we are passing many roadside police checks on way home. Mohammad says this is due to the border closure between Algeria and Morocco due to rise of terrorism around the world. It’s a constant reminder of the unfortunate way the world is heading. We drive past more camels and donkeys and touring vans. Mohammad tells us to place our blue scarf out the window each time we overtake another of his friend’s vans along the great stretches of roads. For some reason this makes him laugh!

1^st stop is mid-morning at a café for coffee/tea. The man making the drinks wearing the wide brimmed hat says he wants to trade our daughters for camels (it’s a common joke hahaha) and tells Steve he likes “this one” Ash because she looks Arabic. Steve informs the cafe man that she is only 15 years of age which startles him. He’s very apologetic and refuses to look at her, in that way, again!

2^nd stop is for lunch. A better priced lunch deal at 80 Dirham each (A$11) and we enjoy kebabs and chips and a cool drink.

3^rd stop mid-afternoon is for another coffee/tea high in the mountains. Opposite the café is a small wooden shack that houses a range of interesting crystals. The man inside has been a miner for many years and enjoys showing Jarrod and Dacey his best specimens. They buy some here. And as we stand outside drinking mint tea and coffee a large flock of black birds fly overhead. There are so many black birds in the sky.

Finally the temperature drops in the Atlas Mountains from 44 degrees to 32 and then rises again as we move closer to Marrakech city. The beautiful hue of colours from the mountains are a mixture of green and brown, red and purple. A herd of goats graze along the ridge of the mountain and hundreds of honey boxes are placed near the base of the mountains. There are plenty of tagine and ceramic sellers along the roadside again as well as flowering prickly pear and selling stalls and the odd donkey being ridden on the side of the road carrying a full load.

We are stopped for major roadworks as the side of mountain is eroding away which is also causing the edge of the road to erode and disappear. The road is not that wide, so major extensions are being carried out and this requires digging into the mountain further to expand the road for vehicles. We watch as large tip trucks are filled up with the rock from the diggers. Dust is sent everywhere!

Mohammad tells us the total distance travelled over our three-day tour is 1,025km. I can believe that.

We arrive back into Marrakech at 7:30pm. It’s been a long day in the van. We say goodbye to our amazing driver Mohammad. It’s been a pleasure spending these last three days with him touring the Moroccan countryside in his van. I still can’t quite believe he drives all this way twice a week! There are hugs and waves of goodbye and good wishes to Mohammad on the side of the road with all the crazy Marrakech traffic whizzing by opposite the gateway into the old medina. We have had one of the best experiences of our lives. Thank you.

We wander back to our Riad and look forward to seeing the manager Moussa again. We knock and Moussa opens the door of the Riad. It’s another warm welcome back and Moussa makes us mint tea.

Unfortunately, Ash is not feeling well tonight and has got a temperature. It’s no wonder as she really hasn’t slept well since the night we arrived here at the Riad which was four nights ago. I think she’s a bit run down and needs a big sleep without interruption and a snoring uncle! Tonight we arrange for her to sleep in our room downstairs on the sofa bed with the air conditioner on so she gets the sleep she needs.

We head out for our final dinner in Marrakech Square. Steve and I enjoy a tangia (it’s a traditional dish from Marrakech which we’ve been wanting to try) and is slow cooked meat thats still on the bone cooked in a large clay pot. I suppose it’s likened to a casserole dish and it’s served with a salad. Everyone else orders a toasted kebab with chips and enjoys the meal surrounded by the craziness that is Marrakech Square at night time.

But then the old man waitering at our table just tried to rip us off by demanding we pay him a tip out of the change he’s reluctantly handing over to Steve. Another Moroccan guest sitting at the table opposite us in the restaurant overhears what this old man is demanding from us and starts talking in Arabic to the other manager of the restaurant in a very disgruntled kind of way. Apologies from the managers are given to us, but the old man scoots off like nothing has occurred. I’m not sure what that was all about, but where there’s an opportunity to make easy money people will take it.

We’re tired. We wander around the Square for a bit and take in the sight and sounds all around us.

It’s time to return to the Riad, get some sleep and dream of the magical desert landscape we just experienced.

PART ONE – ATLAS MOUNTAINS & OTHER MASSIVE EXPERIENCES

Saturday | Tour Day 1

We’re up at 6:30am and depart the large wooden doorway of the Riad like a well trained army troop by 7:30am.

Breakfast is cooked by Moussa and includes a range of different Moroccan breads – some sweet, most flat savoury, an omelette to share and you guessed it a mint tea poured from lofty heights into our small drinking glasses.

Our tour driver’s name is Mohammad and we are on this tour as a group of seven so really it’s our own private tour for our family. Great value at 800 Dirham each (A$108) for three nights and four days of safari touring. Mohammad has been in the driving business for 24 years and in tourism for 20 of those years. He’s a professional and knows these roads like the back of his hand.

The touring van that Mohammad drives is clean and roomy and there’s air conditioning. That’s an important aspect when travelling to the desert where the temperature will easily reach close to 50 degrees Celsius. We soon discover that Mohammad is a very happy and cheerful middle aged Moroccan man with a funny sense of humour and adventure. We depart Marrakech passing through the bustling city and the high orange sandstone walls of the Royal Palace.

Climbing The High Atlas Mountains

We are journeying to the High Atlas Mountains. I really don’t know much about this mountain range so it’s all going to be a new discovery for all of us. Soon enough we see that the mountains of Morocco are unique. Shaped differently, the one thing they all have in common is that they are mammoth and impressive to gaze at from the van windows. There are many a-h-a and wow moments as Mohammad glides around the smooth corners and hairpins and yet again before us is another amazing mountain, seemingly better and more impressive than the previous. If the size of these mountains is impressive, the colours of the mountains are are even more so – a wonderful array of differing hues of brown, pink, and even purple. Mohammad pulls over on the side of the road so we can grab a photo or two to officially commence the tour as well as the millions of photos I am about to take of the Moroccan scenery these coming few days!

After a few hours of driving we stop off at a café where Ash and I enjoy a coffee on the top of the cafe’s rooftop viewing platform (it’s a delightful view and coffee) while the others buy cool drinks and some snacks. The sun is out and it’s hot up here, but nevertheless we‘re completely enjoying the tour and absorbing the amazing landscape that unfolds the further we climb up this mountain range.

The mountains really don’t look real. These stone structures seem to rise up out from the earth in a way that is both bold and breathtaking. The mountains are often covered with rocks or shrubs or cactus and what’s especially interesting are the hillside homes built within the rolls of the mountains. These villages completely camouflage in with the brown and arid environment.

Further up on top of the mountain ridge local vendors set up makeshift crystal shops for tourists. There’s one shop on the side of the road with a welcome sign to the Atlas Mountains and inside sparkles with rocks and crystals mined from the mountains around here. There is a shelf that hugs the curve of the edge which is made of wood that showcases a range of crystals that are for sale.

The winding road shows sign of wear and tear too with obvious car-knocking into the protective steel barrier along the edge of the mountain. It’s in a state of brokenness. We stand on this mountain outside this little crystal shop on the side of the road while Dacey and Jarrod, who love crystals, look inside the rocks and discuss the varieties with the man selling them while I’m wandering down the road with my camera snapping away at the looming hills and Charlie is doing hand stands in the middle of the road!

Major road work construction is happening along this mountainous road too with plenty of large trucks and diggers making a huge mess of dust and soil. The road is narrow and the rocks and erosion are obvious which is causing havoc for motorists along this road. Unfortunately, Ash and I experience feeling car sick while sitting in the very back of the van, due to all the winding and dizzying turns. It doesn’t help that the air conditioner has been turned off while climbing the steep slopes and the stop-start nature of the journey means we need all the power we can get in this van to climb up. The air feels hot and heavy, and the further we climb the air becomes thinner and I’m experiencing tingling in my hands and that awful feeling of sickness in the pit of our stomachs. Mohammad stops on the side of the road as Ash and I jump out white and fragile. We both have different ways of handling car sickness – mine is to walk around, even jump up and down a couple of times getting the air to every part of my body, whereas Ash prefers to sit down and still and zone out on the side of the road.

We are on the side of the road on a slope in the High Atlas Mountains at an altitude of 2,260m now, but there are even higher mountains that reach 4,167m (which we don’t visit on this trip).

We two decide to sit in the front of the van with the driver while Steve jumps in the back. There are two seats next to Mohammad with seat belts. It works out a lot better for us in these mountains. Luckily we only have a short distance to travel; before we stop again for a photo opportunity at a look out over the magnificent valley below. We are admiring the view with a gander of other tourists who are journeying along the same mountain route. How amazing is that view!

The Hollywood of Morocco

This city should really be called Mollywood. If America has Hollywood and India has Bollywood, then it follows that Morocco’s Hollywood could be called Mollywood. This is Ouazazate City where all the movies are made for both the Moroccan and Hollywood film industries.

We drive along the long road in and out passing the large movie sets with impressive gates and walls around their perimeter. It’s home to many castle and medieval movie with its perfect landscape.

We arrive at our lunch stop and choose lunch before an hour long tour of the Ait Ben Haddou where many movies – past and present – have been filmed. I think the kids need an energy top up of food before walking on a tour in this heat. It’s got to be close to 40 degrees and there’s a warm breeze. The conditions hit us hard departing the coolness of the air conditioned van. We enjoy the set lunch even though it’s quite expensive at 120 Dirhams each (A$16) and this quickly adds up when there are six mouths to feed! We each order our own meal, but vow to share expensive meals like this one next time.

Walking Through Ait Ben Haddou, Ouarzaz

Our guided tour of Ait Ben Haddou in Ouarzaz costs 20 Dirham each. This township that sits on a mountain was first created as a Jewish settlement and then when the Jewish people left, the area and the settlement was handed over to the local Berber families to inhabit. Walking across the dry riverbed towards the settlement of homes spread out over the mountain is another moment in amazement – mud clad homes blend in with the environment.

The films that many of us know that have been made here include:

• 1954 Ali Baba
• 1961 Lawrence of Arabia
• Jewel of the Nile
• Gladiator
• Game of Thrones
• And many more.

There’s a heat warped and sun bleached list of the movies pinned to a board near the entry to this brown and dust enveloped city.

Our guide informs us that the movies filmed here always require extras and lots of extras. So the payment for playing an extra in the films is given to the local people who live here and in turn this payment has assisted many of them being able to move out of the old dilapidated brown city and into the new city where they enjoy a better quality of living.

Our young tour guide shares how he was also an extra in many of the movies and tells us that he was paid 300 Dirham per day plus food allowances on top of that. It’s a good paying job for people around here! Our young guide is currently studying Engineering at university and wants to get into the field of solar energy. He wants to do something different and solar makes sense here with this sun.

The tour takes us into the heart of the old brown city, walking up the clay clad steps and through the passageways and past homes and quaint shops. We stop inside one shop where a man demonstrates how secret messages were disguised and sent from city to city using tea in the old days. He lights a small gas bottle and the flame flickers and he hovers a piece of thick white paper over it until the top of the paper starts to change colour. And at the end of moving the paper in a continuous circular motion over the heat, ensuring not to burn a hole through any part of the paper, we see an image appear on the paper. This one is a painting of a landscape that appears on the paper just like magic.

We leave his art shop without a hard sale placed upon us and wander through the winding maze like lanes of the old city until we reach the very top. Our guide sits down on a ledge as we wander up to the top to check out the 360 degree views. Billie and Dacey must have taken the acting vibe around here seriously as they are both acting out that they are dying in this brown and hot city. Their tongues are hanging out like dogs and they don’t make it to the top. Instead they find a shady place to collapse and wait for us to return. I think I should get them into acting school.

The 360-degree view is quite overwhelmingly glorious. The wind crops up, and we watch small dust storms whirl around the base of this city and move across the barren landscape collecting more dust along its path. Jarrod loses his cap and it goes flying off the side of the hill, but he manages to climb down and back up against the wind’s force.

We walk back down much to the relief of Billie and Dacey. Our hour long tour must be coming to an end, as our tour guide is calling for us to hurry up. We follow our guide through the back streets of the town. Jarrod is preoccupied talking with local shop keepers and getting too involved in what they’re selling. There are some amazing items that are for sale at these shops – old world wares like voodoo dolls, silver compasses, pots, saddles, leather goods, colourful bags and clothes. I think I could spend a day here just fossicking around the place and admiring the old world charms on offer.

But the guide is walking faster than we can keep up. Jarrod, Charlie and I fall behind and we end up losing the gang. We finally find the others with the help of our guide and Messenger (oh how we love Messenger app while travelling). They’re inside a small shop as Billie and Ash are trying on scarves that they can wear to The Sahara. We’re told they’re much cheaper here (of course), and we purchase two scarves for the next part of our intrepid journey.

We finish the tour back at the restaurant where we enjoyed the over priced lunch. There we see our driver Mohammad who has changed into a flowing kaftan himself and we don’t recognise him! Things must be about to get very hot where we are heading to the way he’s now dressed.

Rock The Kasbah

We follow the longest roads into the land of sand dunes and watch the roaming nomadic camels with their one hump, aka dromedary, wander across the vast flat landscape and the road. Mohammad mentions that we are moving through different provinces every time we pass through a set of stoned gates along the road.

*insert camel crossing road here*

In the distance to our right we pass a large fresh water lake that Mohammad taunts us by saying we’re going to the beach after the desert. He is always making jokes and laughing with us all in the van which makes the trip so much more enjoyable.

The old kasbahs and scattered ruins are a rich brown just like the earth is here. The seemingly forever-ness of the brown hills and rocky mountains keep me enthralled in the van as we keep moving towards The Sahara. Grand rocky plateaus with green patches spread out under the painted blue sky while this bitumen road goes on forever and ever into the future. We pass heaving trucks with full loads, hay trucks over stacked so much that they have a gradual lean to one side. On the side of the road are shops selling hundreds of clay tagine pots and a variety of other pottery and ceramic goods.

But we do not stop at any of these. Ash has got her jack cord in the car’s stereo and we are all bopping away to music. Currently listening to Billy Idol’s White Wedding and longing for our final stop of the day, our hotel. We drive through a built up town and Mohammad stops the car at a viewing platform and we step out to stretch the legs and admire the view. When we ask Mohammad how much longer we have driving, he is full of jokes and funny remarks. We are not sure what is real with him any more as almost everything is a joke. We peer across a sea of homes cradled by the valley and see a myriad of colourful buildings and homes. It’s another world here and so very intoxicating to the eyes.

After we take our photos we clamber back in the van and funny man Mohammad drives up about 10 metres and parks the van next to the Kasbah Hotel and announces, “We’re here!” We are all pleasantly surprised, and yes he had us completely fooled that we had much further to travel.

We all enjoy separate rooms here at the Kasbah Hotel. There’s no air conditioning nor fans in any of our bedrooms, but more importantly there’s an amazing in ground swimming pool for us all to enjoy tonight. It doesn’t take long for the kids to get into their bathers and meet us poolside. I look out the screened window of our bedroom and watch a young goat herder bringing his flock up from the valley below.

There’s a group of other tourists also sitting and relaxing by the cool, refreshing pool. The pool is large enough for everyone to be in it at once, and at one end of the pool there are a row of fancy spurt mechanisms tossing water out that forms an arch of water over part of the pool. The sound of trickling water is instantly relaxing. the dive into the pool is lovely. Instantly refreshing and cleansing to be in water after all that heavy driving today. It’s nice to change it up for the kids as well and they are thoroughly enjoying their opportunity of being in water.

After the swim, we head back upstairs and enjoy a dinner of three courses: starter is a vegetable soup with bread, main a chicken tagine and for dessert cut up watermelon. It’s a lovely hearty meal. They even sell beers here! Are we still in Morocco? Charlie and Dacey decide to jump in the pool one final time tonight as we sit poolside and enjoy the stars. We don’t stay up late, as it’s an early start in the morning. Unfortunately, it’s so very hot in the rooms that falling asleep is more difficult than expected. The rooms are more akin to a steaming room than a sleeping room. The girls resort to wetting a towel and placing it over their bodies so they can fall asleep easier.

Make sure you continue reading my next blog post titled Days 216-218 | Five: PART 2 Moments of Morocco Atlas Mountains and Sahara | 22-24 July 2017 that completes this amazing tour in Morocco’s mountains and desert.

 

Thursday

We plough through Distance Education school work as much as we can. The internet is very fragile – on and off which makes it very tedious for all of the girls as well as the supervisors! It looks like this week’s work will have bits and pieces of missing work throughout until we can get to Cyprus to catch up. We are expecting much better and more consistent wifi there (fingers crossed).

It’s also the day before we leave for our big tour to the High Atlas Mountains and The Sahara. It’s a three night 4-day tour and starts early Saturday morning. So tomorrow we travel to Marrakech via train and will meet my brother Jarrod there. He’s been staying in the coastal town of El Jadida and he’s catching a bus to Marrakech. We’re packing to go on this tour as well as pilfering and packing all of our belongings so that when we return on Tuesday sometime we’re almost finished with our packing to leave the country next Thursday. On the one hand living a minimalistic life is very freeing, but on the other it’s hard to work out what stays and what goes when you’re starting from not owning many possessions. It’s a hectic time packing for an extended weekend away in the mountains and desert but that’s what comes along with the intrepid long term travel life.

This afternoon French friends Fanny and Ornello leave the dorm house to go visit Rabat and then home back to France. They’re going back to study at university with Fanny ecstatic that she’s been accepted into a French Business School. We all gather for a photo opportunity and hug and wave them goodbye and good luck. It’s another sad moment in the dorm house. We realise that this time next week we will also have departed the dorm house and Morocco. We missed out on visiting the cultural capital Fes due to the extreme heat as well as the famous blue city of Chefchaouen but that will give us more reason to return on another trip.

We have finally booked flights for the six of us out of Morocco departing next Thursday at 7:50am. I’m not even wanting to imagine what time we will have to be up to get to the airport for that one. But it will be a very early start and we will arrive into Cyprus at 8:10pm (Cyprus time). We have a 2 hour 55 minute stop over in Brussels so it’s not direct but the best way we could reach Cyprus in peak season for six people and not pay a fortune for flights and not be waiting at airports for nine plus hours. All up we paid A$3,300 for the one way flights.

And since this is to be our final week living and exploring Morocco I’m reflecting on the resilience my girls have demonstrated with our recent trip to Rabat and then Tanger. The train delays accompanied by little air conditioning and the issues we had to work through to make the trip worthwhile. The advantages of travel is that they are learning how to be resilient in the face of all this. It’s one of the advantages of do-it-yourself traveling and organising.

Resilience.

Patience.

Adaptability.

Openness to meet new people.

Confident.

Change oriented.

Curious.

Willingness to try new things.

…

There are trains out there to catch.

There are people out there to know.

There is food out there to taste.

There is culture out there to understand.

There is a whole world out there to experience.

…

I’m not sure how we’re really going to assimilate back into the thinking and lifestyle that we left behind over seven months ago.

Friday

We set the alarm early and depart the dorm house by 9am. We have a name of the guest house we are staying at tonight and that’s it: Riad dar Radya. How we actually get there is anyone’s guess. So we’ll worry about that later on the train. We walk out onto the street and hail a few blue petit taxis to take us to the train station. The one I catch with two of the girls is an old beaten up car with a few cracks in its windscreen. We walk with American volunteer Biafra who is also heading to the train station to visit his favourite Moroccan city Rabat for the day and it will be the last time we see him here before he journeys back to the US the following evening.

We purchase tickets for the 9:28am to Marrakech (445 Dh 2^nd class versus 684 Dh 1^st class) and give Biafra a final hug and wish him the best of luck for his future. It’s sad to say goodbye but we hope to keep in touch with all the wonderful volunteers we have got to know so well while living in the Berrechid dorm house.

The train to Marrakech is delayed by 15 minutes and the red sign on the digital board alerts us to this fact with the word “retard” on the screen. So I enjoy a coffee and the girls’ croissants at the train station café. Unfortunately, there’s many men sitting inside the cafe smoking so the plume of smoke is intoxicating.

There’s a cute Moroccan toddler on the train that’s called Ashy and she’s very cute. She wants to play with us at the compartment doorway like peek a boo, but her mum is trying to keep her contained and less boisterous. She cries when she’s kept inside her compartment so letting her roam up and down the train aisle is nice for all of us.

We look out the window and watch the changing landscape roll past – beautifully red ochre land, eucalyptus plantations, olive groves, small towns, fields of cactus, and the major construction works of a new train line. Steve does some research and we discover that Australia is approximately 17 times larger than Morocco. Looking at this another way, it is either 2 times bigger than the state of Victoria or half the size of South Australia. The girls are starting to grasp the fact that our country, Australia is such an expansive and diverse country and is the 6^th largest country in world. Best way to learn geography is on the travel route.

We disembark at Marrakech train station. It’s a lovely train station with a large chandelier hanging in the middle of the station and already we get the feeling that the vibe here is one of more organised tourism than what we’ve been used to in other the other Moroccan towns we have visited.

We start the haggling process for a taxi to take us to our Marrakech Riad (guesthouse) – and Steve is now an expert at this. Charlie comes in second place when it comes to haggling. She can negotiate prices for clothes, sunglasses, jewellery down to half of the original asking price and come away with both vendor and buyer smiling. I’m terrible at it and shy away at the hard bargaining and so too does Ash. Steve makes a swift agreement with the taxi driver and we follow him over to his parked taxi in the car park beside the station. As we are about to climb in, another van drives up behind the taxi and the driver jumps out flashing a white piece of paper with the words British Language Academy written on it. I think, Hey that’s us, are you here to pick us up? So we are unknowingly collected at Marrakech train station by the tour company and we apologise to the taxi driver who has moved his car for us to climb into. He’s okay about it all. But we have no idea we were getting picked up. I have no idea how they found us either.

An elderly Moroccan man pushing a wheel barrow-cart like contraption helps with our luggage and carts it to the Riad through the medina archway and down the street from where the tour guide car drops us off. The Riad is situated within the walls of the old medina and therefore no cars can enter as they just don’t fit! He’s an extremely happy and very friendly man who prompts me to take a photo of everyone. Of course I oblige. We are off to a good start in bustling and hot Marrakech.

We arrive to our Riad, that’s situated down a narrow alleyway and we meet the Riad manager Moussa. He’s a young man with a lovely smile and very keen to sit us down within the open Moroccan style lounge of the Riad and serve us mint tea. We discover over tea and a Marrakech map that the Riad, located in old medina, is also easy walking close to La Place Jemaa El, otherwise known as Marrakech Square. It was here that public hangings occurred back in the day and the Souk nearby was the place to where slaves were sold. We are shown to our rooms – Steve and I are downstairs while the four girls are upstairs in the bunk bed dorm room.

We haven’t eaten anything other than nuts on the train and a croissant at the Berrechid train station café, so we venture out and make our way to Marrakech Square for a late lunch. We walk down the winding alleyways of the medina, it’s very quiet and peaceful at the moment and a scorching 40-something degrees Celsius. These alleyways are lined either side with stalls and shops selling anything and everything from jewellery, earthenware tagines, soaps for the Turkish-style Hamman baths, and items of clothing. We reach the vast openness of the square and its red pavement is hot. It’s empty now but we are assured the square will be full and bursting with street performers and crowds once the sun starts to go down and the heat subsides.

We walk left and find ourselves sitting in a restaurant ordering cool drinks, kebabs and a tagine. For 30 Dirham (A$4) Steve and I share the best tagine (also called Maraq) we have had so far in Morocco – tasty vegetables slowly cooked over a large piece of succulent boned chicken. Yum!

After lunch we walk around the perimeter of the square and through its middle sighting La Kautoubia (the mosque) which is inside the old medina walls, snakes and cobra handlers, monkeys dressed up in costumes. It’s exotic because we’re in Morocco but I feel sad that these animals are still used as entertainment in these parts of the world. The food and drinks stands – fresh juice only – are starting to set themselves up. We walk back to the Riad as Jarrod should be arriving into Marrakech via bus soon and we have planned to meet him outside the medina gates.

As we wait for Jarrod to arrive, back at the medina Moussa gives us a plate of Amlou (almond paste/dip) with bread. It’s highly regarded by the Moroccans and is very tasty. It’s a little like Nutella without the chocolate and much nicer but more expensive.

We meet Jarrod in just outside the medina gates at 4.30pm and make our way down to the Riad.

Jarrod checks in and no sooner are we walking back to Marrakech Square for dinner with Jarrod. We pass through the souk with all of the shops. We stop off at a jewellery shop and purchase some silver earrings and rings. This place really gets going late afternoon onwards.

This time the scene is completely changed from just two hours previously. The emptiness of the Square has been filled with stalls of food and juice bars. There’s plenty of hard talking and haggling for business now. Charlie and Steve try Moroccan snails (they now know they don’t like). We walk over to the fresh juice stalls and suddenly a bunch of men from four different stalls are yelling at us from their elevated stands trying desperately to grab our attention and our Dirham. It’s literally crazy! All the food stalls are given a number – so when wandering around they’re coming up to people telling us their number, why they’re the best, and many say a simple rhyme to get a laugh out of us like ‘finger lickin’ good’ and so on.

Half of us go to one juice stand and the other half to another. The yelling and commotion caused to attract our business is loud and makes it hard to make a decision. But the juices are extraordinary. The freshly squeezed orange juice is cold and fresh, and the mixed juice with watermelon and other red fruits that Dacey loves is refreshing and filling. For a bit of fun, Charlie and Ash are invited up into the juice stall with the Moroccans and get a photo taken. Another way of promoting their stall number that is hanging out the front.

It feels like the wild west of food stalls in Marrakech Square. We need to be mindful that this place is teeming with beggars, pick pockets, and snake charmers. And the food stall guys try to emotionally blackmail you into dining at their stalls. We say no to one and then they are sad, we say yes to another and they are like why? Everyone is a professional at grabbing the tourist dollar or Dirham in this case. We finally settle on a stall to sit and eat at. It’s nice to sit and watch the craziness occur all around us, but we also know that we will be back out in it trying to get through the scams and crowds soon enough. We order plates of calamari and chicken skewers. They’re lovely but a bit pricey for what we get. Luckily we enjoyed a late lunch and are still full from the delicious chicken tagine and toasted kebabs.

Moussa warns us to be careful. Police patrol the square area until 11pm and then they go home. The thugs and thieves know this so they work after hours – 11pm onwards. There have been cases of robberies by knife and steeling of wallets and cash and jewellery. And although we are always careful without being frightened or panicked, I take note of his warning.

After dinner we walk to the middle of the square to watch the public performances. Previously in the day the square was used as a place of public hangings! Standing there in the middle of the square is confronting to think that that kind of brutality existed for all to see and be fearful of. Again it feels like we are on set of Game of Thrones. It doesn’t take long for the snake charmers to weave their magic and track down the curious tourist and place these poor docile snakes around a their necks. If you know me I really have a dislike of snakes, so I keep my guard and distance. There is no way any Marrakech cowboy is placing one of those reptiles around my neck without me knowing.

But Jarrod gets caught up and before we and he know it he’s got a snake around his neck. Then a straw hat and then not long after he’s kneeling down on a small piece of carpet with a snake around his neck and facing another: a cobra sliding towards him and then standing up looking straight at him. Charlie is secretly filming the whole situation on my camera without the Marrakech cowboys realising, but in the end Jarrod was a goner.

Afterwards the snake charmers want payment and preferably more than less – “notes notes” they demand but Jarrod hasn’t been to the ATM yet, so he’s only got a pocket full of coins. Probably lucky he hadn’t been to the ATM in the end. The Marrakech cowboys weren’t happy but they took all the coins nevertheless.

Back at our quaint and quiet Riad, Moussa shows me how to write our names in Arabic. I’m fascinated by the style and cursiveness of it. For me it’s the most uniquely written languages I have seen. Arabic is written from left to right and the same for reading. I tell Moussa how I just can’t make out the shapes of the words as to me the lines and little accents over some of the letters all look very similar to me.

Moussa tells me that he can learn a new language within a month through intensive learning and practice, but the only language that completely baffles him is Chinese. And recently he’s meeting many more Chinese tourists and visitors in Marrakech and all he knows how to say is hello or nihao and that’s it. He’s completely confused with the language but impressed when I tell him that I studied Mandarin language for 10 years at school and university. I have no idea how I would go learning Arabic especially looking at the Arabic in front of me and trying to work it out.

Moussa is a lovely and kind hearted 24-year old philosophy student who has delved deeply into the philosophical world and its teachings. He tells me he’s read over 1,000 books and his favourite is Richard Dawkins The Illusion of God. I’ll have to read it now. He has only one more year to complete his Philosophy degree and calls himself a humanist because we are all human beings after all.

I agree with him. We have spoken with many Moroccan people who are believer and non-believers. The non-believers cite the religions of the world not treating people equally; religion is in fact the main community that differentiates between human beings. If you are born in India you are most likely to follow and believe in a Hindu God; if you are born in Morocco you are most likely to follow and believe in Islam and so on for other countries. One’s religion is determined by the geographical environment and the family belief system they are born into. Instead of choosing religion people follow it and many follow it with a blind unquestioning faith.

Non-believers in Morocco are called kafir and in this Muslim land I think they find themselves less readily accepted. Kafir is an Arabic term meaning unbeliever, or disbeliever. The term alludes to a person who rejects or disbelieves in God and the teachings of the Islamic Prophet Muhammad. I liken it to a gay person “coming out” and not being accepted in his/her society or family because of their sexuality. The same seems to be true with “coming out” as a non-believer of Islam in Morocco – it’s kind of hidden and can be a source of anxiety for many parents/families who feel that their child/ren are going to go to hell if they don’t believe or cover up.

Moussa tells me Germany is on his radar to visit to live and work as he has friends currently living and working there who keep insisting to him to fly over. He’s shares that he’s become more spiritual than religious through studying philosophy. And from what I can gauge though being here and in conversations with many Moroccans, the Islam religion is not just something you believe in but it is entwined in the Moroccan culture and way of life. There’s no escaping it really. Prayers are heard coming from the mosques five times a day through loud speakers, women are covered up and pretty much hiding themselves so as to not incite the desire of another, and it’s obvious that it’s a man’s world here.

Patriarchy dominates and due to the many interpretations of the religious texts it’s not seen as something that needs be addressed, changed or altered. I’m not saying I understand everything there is to know about this religion, but it seems to be one that is omnipresent and almost inescapable if you locals believe anything different or believe nothing at all.

We get into bed excited for our trip tomorrow. Steve and I have a wonderful sleep downstairs in the couples room with the air conditioner going. But upstairs in the bunk dorm room it’s a different story – when I walk up the stairs and go to wake up the tribe, poor Ash hasn’t slept much at all. Uncle Jarrod was snoring throughout the night which kept her awake plus the shared bunk bed room was extremely hot and stuffy. It seems the air conditioner was not working as well as it could have been upstairs.

We eat Moussa’s cooked breakfast and mint tea with Song who is from South Korea. Not sure when he arrived at the Riad, but he and Moussa know one another. After a tasty breakfast we’re ready to start the tour.

We walk out of the old medina gates with Moussa walking with us and outside the gates we meet up with a few other tourist groups who are also on tour. The one thing that I’m beginning to get used to is that we never really know what’s going on in this tour – it just happens at the time it needs to happen. A lesson in going with the flow is required. On the up side, it’s a weekend that both Steve and I don’t have to organise, research or plan for our family. We are completely hands off and it’s rather welcome change. So this tour for us is more like a holiday than anything else!

We’re shown to a tourist van where we place all our luggage in the back. It’s a new van, clean and comfortable. This will be home for the seven of us for the next three days while we journey a total of 1,025km through the High Atlas Mountains and The Sahara and back to Marrakech.

To read about our extraordinary trip through the High Atlas Mountains and The Sahara please go to Days 216-218 | Five: Moments of Morocco in Atlas Mountains and The Sahara | 22-24 July 2017. It’s epic!

Tuesday

Today we travel all the way back to home base Berrechid. Jarrod departs earlier than us to catch a bus back down to the coastal town of El Jadida (where he came from pre-tour). It’s been a wonderful tour experience with Jarrod and we hope he enjoys the rest of his stay in Morocco.

An hour later Moussa walks us to the outside of the walled medina and we get a lift to the train station with the tour van. It’s hugs all round with Moussa and we promise to keep in touch with him. Such a lovely young Moroccan man.

The train departs at 10:30am and we’re dropped off to the train station by the tour company which is very nice. The journey back to Berrechid seems shorter than expected after experiencing the huge travelling distances we did over the weekend. We are tired, can you tell by how we look on the train, after the amazing experience we’ve all shared in the Atlas Mountains and The Sahara.

After three hours on the train without delays we are at Berrechid. There are a group of male Moroccan travellers standing near the doorway of the carriage questioning our intention to disembark at Berrechid. It’s very similar to what we experienced in Buldana, rural India even though we’re not rural here in Berrechid. There is not one skerrick of tourism operating here in industrial town Berrechid. The men are asking Steve are you sure you want to get off here – it’s Berrechid? It makes us laugh. There’s a wonderful story to be told just in those two destinations of Buldana and Berrechid; Dr Moses and Mr Harim; rural India and industrial Morocco. More ideas for my book!

Even when I’m off the train and walking through the train station towards the external taxi rank, a woman turns to me and starts talking French, but I tell her I’m Australian and only speak English. “Oh I thought you were French.” She then proceeds to advise me in English that it’s better if I hide my camera away. I respond with, “But I’ve been here for a month already.” She’s shocked at hearing this and I’m left wondering do I not have the Moroccan grime under my skin yet? Even after a month of living here? I thank her anyway for looking out for me and walk out to the Berrechid sunshine and start looking for two blue petit taxis to take us back home to the dorm house.

Since we have been away there has been an array of colourful flags erected along the main street in Berrechid. They’re absolutely beautiful flapping in the wind and we wonder what’s going on in quiet Berrechid for these flags to be up.

We get a lovely welcome home greeting by the international volunteers. We have a quick chat in the hallway before unpacking and putting our dirty Sahara clothes in the wash. There’s no Andrei, Julish, or Biafra. Sam is back from his week away but Sofia returned to Belgium to collect her son and will return to Berrechid well after we depart. It’s also Mat’s last night here before he heads off to Marrakech and a trip the desert (which we highly recommend) and then back to Belgium to complete his final semester studying.

Nothing back at the dorm house has changed. There are also no new volunteers which is surprising. It’s been quiet here. Bart and the French guys inform us it’s been very quiet and boring without us which is nice to hear. I suppose there are six of us to contend with at once!

We’re happy to be back for our final day (tomorrow) to paint the Australian flag with all our names underneath on the wall outside the classrooms. We are the first Australians to volunteer at Berrechid British Language Academy. Now we really feel like explorers. Ash has opted to take the project of painting the Australian flag which is great. Knowing her tendency for perfection, our flag will be look absolutely beautiful.

Tonight all the volunteers in the dorm house gather on the rooftop for a BBQ. We buy fillets of chicken from the Halal butcher, some onions and peppers. Dacey marinates the cubes of chicken in Worcestershire sauce while Steve and I are taking an English language classroom conversation. The French boys have purchased minced meat, so after the classroom Steve makes hamburgers and we attempt to cook them on the tiny BBQ located up on the rooftop, but retreat back downstairs to the gas top and frying pan for much better results. It’s a lovely night on the rooftop which marks our last.

Wednesday

There’s some serious packing and cleaning out of our belongings occurring. I’m throwing out clothes that haven’t been worn in ages (haha like a couple of months), giving away food that has accumulated in our basket and giving way the two fans that we purchased to help keep us cool to the first person who wants them! I am literally starting the packing process from scratch ie. empty suitcases. We have three suitcases (pink, red, and gold) plus two backpacks (mine and Steve’s) and then the girls each have a small carry on backpack plus a drone bag. We are permitted to check in six bags of up to 20kg each on our flight to Brussels and then onto Cyprus. The best strategy I can employ in getting this right here and now and not getting flustered at the airport trying to balance out over weight suitcases (yes we have been and done this before) is to distribute the heavy text books (mainly for Charlie’s Year 11 and 12 and then workbooks for Ash and Billie) between the three suitcases topped up with clothing.

On our final day in Berrechid we get to experience something quite special and unique to Berrechid. There’s something big happening in Berrechid all this week and it has to do with the brightly coloured flags erected on each lamp post along the main road: it’s the Horse Festival!

Just up the road where previously there was vacant dusty land are tents, horses, and gunfire. Around 4-8pm each day for one week the Moroccans put on a show for the people. It’s huge! I’ve never seen anything like it. It makes us feel like we are in the middle of medieval times or I’m on the set of Game of Thrones! The horses are all stallions and they’re beautiful creatures. Well looked after, they’re tethered during the day and then ridden during the late afternoon into the evening.

Steve and I get out of the dorm house in between intensive packing to enjoy our final lunch in Berrechid. We walk over to take a look at what’s happening at this Horse Festival. We enjoy our final Berrechid lunch from our friendly Moroccan man in the café who makes toasted chicken panini with a freshly squeezed orange juice. I think I’ve said it before but I’m so going to miss Morocco’s delicious freshly squeezed orange juice.

The Horse Festival HUGE! And it’s being set up like a family fair with hundreds of colourful flags surrounding the venue with makeshift children’s rides, popcorn stalls, helium balloons and lots of families attending the horse festival spectacle. There are stalls set up along the street selling anything from nuts and fruits to shining tea pots and earthenware for cooking. We wonder around looking at hundreds of stallions tethered outside large Arabic tents. We decide to return to see all the action with the horses and the riders and the firing of guns between 4-8pm. The wind has cropped up and there’s so much hay on the ground that I get hay fever.

When we return at 5pm the Tbourida aka Horse Festival has been transformed into a military parade of Fantasia. Horsemen are riding strong, biting at the bit stallions and they’re all dressed up in a uniform of sequins and frills – both rider and horse. There are no safety barriers for pedestrians to walk through so it’s a process of dodging these massively strong and uptight stallions that are frothing at the mouth and dancing on the tips of their hooves. It’s shared foot and hoof traffic here so we are to very watchful all around us as these stallions often have a mind of their own and we could end up underneath one quite easily. I have already seen some of the stallions run into the side of a car.

Fantasia is an equestrian show that simulates military assaults practised mainly in Maghreb (North Africa Arab-Berber area). Often also known as the “game of powder” or “game of horses”. It’s an intense and vibrant display of horse rider, horse, and gun powder. The sound of gun fire echoes out throughout the town of Berrechid each night between 4-8pm. These stallions are so accustomed to this loud sound that they don’t flinch one bit. All I can say is that it’s an amazing and intriguing spectacle.

We return to the dorm house after the horse festival, play a final game of table tennis, take our final classroom language conversation, make dinner and the rest of the night is about packing, saying goodbye to our volunteer community as well as the Moroccan teachers and completing the painting of the Australian flag with our names etched on the classroom hallway wall. Ash has done a brilliant job.

We lap up our final sunset on the rooftop at Berrechid. There’s a large crowd of horse festival goers on the streets. We are up early in the morning – up at 4am – so it’s a sad farewell to everyone tonight.

We have thoroughly enjoyed our month stay and volunteering in Morocco. It has been amazing to experience another unique and different culture than what we have been used to. It is so true that what we hear broadcast in the media about other places around the world and their cultures and religions are not all truth. To really know and understand a place in the world one must leave home and seek to understand it through experience. I believe it’s only then, without political points of view mingled in media mania, that you can see that the people all around the world are truly beautiful human beings and open to us visiting.

Humanity is what I believe in, and I hope to continually inspire and share this open worldly view with my family. Let the prejudices vanish and insecurities disappear. It’s amazing actually knowing what is out here in this amazing world of ours and to experience it first-hand.