Day 178: Merzouga

The alarm rang at 5:45 a.m. I stumbled out of bed, went to the shared bathroom, and saw a shooting star on my way back to wake up Pallavi for our sunrise date with the dunes. That is as far as we got. We couldn't make ourselves get up.

When we finally woke up, we stepped out of our room, to see not just dunes, but mountains of dunes everywhere. How had we drive past these in the dark?

Pallavi decided to catch up on a bit more sleep and I decided to go and hike the dunes. I got my Bad Backpacker/Girl Scout skills engaged. Water. Check. Sunblock. Check. Keep track of where I'm going in the dunes so I don't end up like some Unsolved Mystery. Check.

That is where my skills ended. As I walked in my flipflops, I thought, what happens if I get lost? Are these the most strategic shoes I could be wearing to go and walk to rescue? Maybe not. Okay, let's not get lost.

Then I thought, wait, I don't even have a cell phone. Again, what happens if I get lost? Then I'm the dumb girl who walked out by herself in just flipflops and one bottle of water!

Did I let this stop me? Of course not!How could I get lost. Isn't the name 'Sahara' just like 'Sarah-a'? I can do it! I just kept diligently looking behind me for landmarks so I knew where to come back. And did I let these thoughts keep me close to the hotels? No. I decided to walk to the highest point that I could make it to.

I figured I would just keep next to either the camel tracks or the 4x4 tracks. As I went up a dune, it suddenly struck me that a 4x4 might just fly over that dune at any moment. Okay, maybe I should stick to the camel tracks.

On and on and on I trekked, singing Climb Every [sand] Mountain until I finally made it to the top of the dune. The view was spectacular! When I finally made it back, I decided I'd join Pallavi in a nap. We slept all afternoon!

We only got up to get a late lunch/dinner, go out into the desert to try to catch a sunset, and then chill around with our hotel guys, who treated us to local drumming. Operation Sahara: check. 

Day 177: Drive to Merzouga

Can the desert call to people? I know the sea can call to people, but can the desert? Don't most people want to escape the desert? Not us. For us, the Sahara beckons. Well, I should be more specific. the sand dunes of Erg Chebbi beckon. 

These aren't just sand dunes. These are the grandmother of sand dunes. They span an area of 50 kms by 2 kms, and are 300 meters tall in places. This is the sand box to beat all sand boxes. <I wonder how you could use buckets and water to make a huge sand castle.....>

However, to get there, we must drive through the rest of the High Atlas, then through date country, then through warrior tribe country, then through the Anti-Atlas before we reach the town of Merzouga, where we can play in this giant sand box. 

We wanted to do 3 things on today's trip. 1) Eat fresh dates, 2) See the warrior tribe people walking around with the scimitar knives, 3) Go and see petroglyphs. 

1) Operation fresh dates. There is suppose to be some place near a town that we drove through that has amazing dates and date tasting. The catch is that it is by appointment only... and they apparently only speak French. As a result, they couldn't direct us. Not to be detoured, we decided to try to find the place using just our eyes and our hope. Hope failed us! I don't think our eyes did. Regardless, we were dateless. We then tried to find a stop by the side of the road next to a tree that was low enough for us to just pluck said dates. This tactic also didn't work. [Insert sad face here], No dates for us. 

2) See warrior people with scimitar knives. Success!! We ate at lunch in the town where Lonely Planet says you can see these people and we did. All one of them. Tragically, he was right next to us, and we didn't want to be completely rude tourists and try to take a picture of him. Still we saw him, and the whole group of men sitting around us saw us. They had an innocent curiosity. They were so curious that when we left, they all had looked to see where we had gone and waved at us when we drove by!

3) See the petroglyphs. Lonely Planet said that near a certain town you could see 5000 year old petroglyphs. What Lonely Planet didn't say was that you had to go on a complete rock (and by rock, I mean, HUGE rocks surrounding all the little ones) road to get there. Obviously we didn't take extra insurance with us on our little sedan that is not made for off-roading. We went as far as we dared and then we chickened out and returned. We failed petroglyphs, but we definitely got an A for effort. 

The drive was beautiful, albeit, however, it was more about the people than the scenery. People here look completely different. These are desert and warrior people. The people wear brighter clothing. The men wear those desert style turbans were there is a little piece of cloth that comes down and can be used to cover their face. The women wear a long, bright, colorful head covering that is more about keeping cool than it is about religion.

We couldn't wait for the long drive to finish. We finally made it our hotel, set an alarm for sunrise to see the sun rise over the dunes, which apparently are just 5 minutes from the hotel, and called it an evening. 

Day 176: Driving to Ouarzazate

We picked up our car to get on our road trip over the Atlas Mountains and towards the Sahara Desert. No sooner did we get on the road, than we immediately hit not just city traffic, but ancient city traffic. How am I suppose to handle driving in a rental car when I have motorcycles passing me from both sides, ancient one-lane city gates to cross through, and people darting in and out of traffic? How am I suppose to do it without a horn! That's right. We had done all of the cross-checks, marked the dents in the car, and tested the lights, but we had forgot to check the horn. We banged on various places of the steering wheel in a variety of ways to the sound of no horn! How could we not have a horn?

As we got out of the city safely, sans horn, Pallavi turned to me and said, "good job. I think you're almost ready to drive in India." I am terrified to drive in India. I am not ready to drive there. I barely made it here. My secret was just to follow the guts of the guy in front of me. Copycar all the way. Plus, at least here there aren't cows and stray dogs to deal with.

The drive over the mountains was beautiful. It's been years since my family drove through the more arid Rocky Mountains down near New Mexico, but the general mountain scenery reminded me in many ways of the Rockies. That is where the similarities end. Now, Mom and Dad taught me how to drive in the mountains with trucks and with construction. They didn't teach me how to drive when there isn't any signage that construction is coming until some random guy just stops traffic without the use of a stop sign. First world driving! Where's the stop sign buddy? Also, construction generally means you are driving on a real road in my first world driving experience. It doesn't mean you are driving on a dirt road for multiple kilometers.

Also, how do you pass the trucks going 10 km per hour on an endless zigzag mountain road without a horn? You say a prayer and just gun it! That is how the Moroccans do it, or so I realized watching car after car pass me. But the piece de resistance? The white European doing it. Well dang it! If that European can do it, I can do it too!

We were so happy by the time we reached a place called Ait Benhaddou. This is the site of an 11th century fortified kasbah that now has a new story: Hollywood movie location. Here's just a quick sample of movies that are shot here: Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator, Jesus of Nazareth, The Mummy, Alexander, Babel, Kingdom of Heaven, and Price of Persia. As we left, Pallavi remarked, "I wonder how much of our information gained from cinema is incorrect based upon just the scenery. I would have thought this place looked like Rome not Morocco?"

As we came to our final destination, Ouarzazate, I suddenly noticed that there was this little trumpet image on my turn indicator. What the heck is that? Oh wait!!! HONK!!! Found the horn! 

Day 173-175: Marrekech

We got onto the bus to Marrekech and sat down shocked. How could a bus have so much room? How could a bus have seats that didn't pinch your butt and give you TBS (tired butt syndrome)? Clearly our reaction shows our standards. Welcome to the European influence! We arrived in Marrekech and had a debate on how to get through the labyrinth of the medina to our hotel. Pallavi said, "let's take a cab." Sarah, the cheap, said, "we're backpackers. let's take the bus. I'm sure we can get a bus that'll take us to a spot closer to our location than the main square." Onto the bus we went. Did the bus drop us at a spot closer to our location? No. Did we end up walking when Pallavi specifically said she didn't want to walk? Yes. Did we end up asking everybody along the way where to go? Yes. Needless to say, by the time to poor young boy who tried to make a bit of money off of us by showing us the way to our hotel just two streets away from it (when we mostly knew where to go), he got nothing but glares and hostility from us. Pick your moments kid! Do not mess with "tired, cranky, just walked when we didn't want to and had to ask lots of questions" travelers!

Marrekech is definitely a tourist town. It is nice, but not nearly as charming as Essaouira. We went to get breakfast and selected a restaurant in hanger. Why had we chosen to go out? To save a bit of money by not eating in our hotel. What did we end up paying? Almost double the amount we would have spent had we eaten in the hotel!!! Why? We ordered drinks not on the menu and got overcharged, with nothing we can do about it. Rookie move! We know better than that! #BadBackpackersStrikeBack.

The town has quite a lot of historic places, but we only went to the Saadian Tombs. The Saadians ran the sugar and the salt trade in the 15th century where one pound of sugar = 1 ounce of gold (according to my made up interpretation of Lonely Planet history). We found their tombs fascinating. The tombs have imported Italian marble, multiple vibrantly coloured marble mosiacs, beautiful wood lattice work, and more. However, the tombs don't have the same size as we expected. We expected Taj size. We thought we had a good feel for how the other buildings in this city would be, and didn't really explore too many more from the inside.

We spent our day just exploring the Medina, primary the souks and the main square, Jemaa El-Fna. The square is an absolute circus. It is filled with buskers and street performers. These guys have an eye for people taking photographs, so we decided to spend the extra money to go up to a restaurant with a balcony overlooking the main square to get our photo fix. After at least an hour filled with pointing out different scenes on the square, I realized that this was real-life 'Where's Waldo.' What did we see:

• A boxing match
• Snake charmer
• A man with a Moroccan hat twirling it for two babies in a stroller
• An old man playing a violin by himself
• Two men with a Moroccan version of a sombrero with pom-poms hanging off of it, in all red
• A man playing a big drum
• Card readers
• A table filled with teeth and dentures
• A man in a red and white striped shirt. We found Waldo! 

It really is like nothing you've experienced before. We even managed to start a crowd for a really good performer who, before we stood before him, hadn't had anybody listen to him properly the entire night. There went our good deed for the day! 

Then, at night, the different grill restaurants compete to get customers. We liked ours the best. They applauded after each person selected them and sat down. Who doesn't like a bit of applause to whet the appetite? 

Then, while getting some fresh orange juice at the end of the evening, a little girl came up to Pallavi and asked if she could have one of her bracelets. Pallavi has collected one bracelet from every country we've visited. The little girl picked one and Pallavi gave it to her. No way would I ever have been so gracious. The bracelet made the little girl so happy that she gave Pallavi and I each a big kiss on the cheek - the kind of kiss her parents must have taught her to give when thanking family members for gifts. What a super sweet way to end the day. 

We've had to stay a bit longer than we preferred here in Marrekech while we wait for a good price on a car rental. Tomorrow, we'll head off towards the High and Mid Atlas mountains and to head towards the Sahara. 

Day 171-172: Essaouira

We haven't been travelling on our own for almost 7 weeks. In the time we've chilling around with family and friends in India and Egypt, the following has occurred: 

• It went from 16 to 32 degrees c in Melbourne
• Back to school season hasn't just come, but it's also gone and given my Notre Dame a 4-1 record 
• It's practically Halloween 

We were sad to say goodbye to Heba after her power shop in the morning. We spent our time in Essouira shopping and exploring in and outside the Medina. 

It is incredibly enchanting. We watched men with different sorts of Ali Babba meets Aladdin turbans walk past. We climbed the ramparts of the more ancient parts of the medina and discovered artsy shops hidden in the historic walls. We bought Berber watches from a Saharan turbaned man who, after trying to teasingly ask how many camels Pallavi was worth, ended up getting away with overcharging us! Now every time we try to tell time using the sun, we'll think of the dark man who misled us. I shall call him, Jafar. Next stop: the hidden caves which hold Aladdin's lamps. Oh wait, I can at least use my new watch to see how long it takes to get there! 

We tried our first tagine. Note to self: local tagine is made for more than one person. Second note to self: learn how to make traditional tagine. Third note to self: Don't eat the entire tagine even if it is mostly vegetables and deliciousness. 

We also have started experimenting with Harissa soup. I enjoyed my soup so much that I completely didn't see the dates on the plate on which my bowl sat. It was only when the waiter, upon taking away my plate, asked me if I didn't like my dates, that I gasped in shock and immediately reached out to grab them before I lost them forever to the circling cats. You have to understand. I LOVE dried dates. I could just live on dates while in the region. How could I have almost missed out on them! 

This town is a perfect gateway into Morocco. Can't wait to get to Marrekesh. 

Day 170: Arriving in Essaouira

Heba and Aly wanted to go to a small town 400 kms south of Casablanca before heading to their conference in Marrakesh. In true Sarah-style, I hadn’t read anything about Morocco prior to getting on the flight, so I was keen on anything. Pallavi did some research beforehand (I’m way too lazy) and recommended that we all get a car to get to Essaouira. Aly and I were set to be the drivers. Why? Aly has an actual international driver’s license and I’m white. They joked that even with my Missouri driver’s license that a car rental place wouldn’t refuse me my white privilege. Also, I can drive on the right (rules out Pallavi) and I can drive a stick shift (rules out Heba). Score for my driving skills!

Now, driving in Morocco is, as Aly described, like Egypt + +. It mostly follows the standard road rules 80% of the time, but there is room for interpretation. I’ve seen how they drive in Cairo. No way was I volunteering to get behind the wheel until I had a feel for how Moroccans drive. Now that I’ve seen it, I can say that it’s only slightly scary, but it certainly allows room for error. For example:

• Accidentally in the left lane and discover it’s a left turn only lane? No problem! Just keep driving straight. 
• The driver in front of you isn’t taking the left turn fast enough? No problem. You can turn left just by passing him on the left…or the right…. Or both if there are two of you.
• Need to get to a place with a no entry sign? No problem! It’s just a little farther down the road anyway. The other car will understand or get the heck out of the way.

Just like Grandy says, it’s not who is right, it’s who is left.

Today, I couldn’t avoid driving in Casablanca any longer. We had the car and needed to get Aly, who was staying with his friend. Channeling Grandy, I got behind the wheel, and started driving with great trepidation. I made it to the friend’s house just fine I have you know. Ye of little faith. I only didn’t see one person and braked severely when Pallavi told me to ‘watch it!’ A little whiplash is good for your health. Keeps you limber.

We all piled into the car and started driving the 400 km drive. Aly and I took turns. Morocco countryside is beautiful. It reminds me a lot of the south of the US, where there is a lot of agriculture but where the land is flat and arid. Brown soil/rocks surrounded us on either side. Kilometers of plains stretched on either side of us with mountains dotting the distance. As we passed small towns, we passed men wearing ‘cowboy-like hats’ riding donkeys, hauling all sorts of different things. We passed more donkeys pulling carts from here to there. The countryside is littered with red-clay built small structures and fences. It’s gorgeous.

We finally got to the town and checked in to our riad. A riad is like a bed and breakfast. Ours was super cute and traditional. We sat down and were immediately offered tea. I accepted, saying, “they say it’s not a real riad unless you’ve been offered mint tea.” I have never had tea with so many mint leaves sticking out of it that you a) felt  you were drinking a tea mojito and b) needed to drown the stems so you could drink the tea without it poking you in the nose.

We then stepped out to explore the town. The town is an old military town set right on the Atlantic. Again, it has a robust medina filled with stalls. There are faces poking out from windows about the narrow lanes everywhere we go. Locals all ride bikes like madmen through the mazes. Fresh bread, eggs, meat, olives stand in every stall. Stray fat cats dart in and out of everything, everywhere.

We went to the harbor, saw a fat cat try to grab a fish off a vendor’s cart, picked our selection of fresh seafood and had an amazing dinner. We then went to the one place in town that had music and drinks. We got our seats and got free entertainment by a group of 20 women.

1. Who were they? Speculations abounded. Bachelorettes? Birthday?  
2. Where were they from?
3. Why were they singing in French, but standing on tables? That’s very un-French.
4. Why did they bring water-guns to the bar and are now shooting them at the waiters telling them to put them away?

I couldn’t take the suspense anymore and went to ask them. What’s the answer?

Dutch Sorority Sisters. 

Now it all makes sense.

Tomorrow, Heba and Aly go ahead to Marrakesh and we stay on to explore.  

Day 168: Casablanca, Morocco

Here’s lookin’ at you kid. That’s right. We took an early morning flight to Casablanca, Morocco. It was like stepping back in time. At least the flight was like that.

In fairness, Heba, who had to travel to Casablanca for a conference and happened to be on the same flight, did warn us not to expect too much from our carrier, Egypt Air. We stepped on board, all ready for drinks and movies, as per our usual international fight routine. We sat down, looked for our in-seat entertainment, and found nothing! You’d have thought that we were travelling on United Airlines or internationally in 2000. The airline had those central screens that come down from overhead with a standard movie selection, a simple ‘chicken or beef’ food selection, and no liquor. Plus the speakers were broken when they made overhead announcement. Additionally, after I rang my call button multiple times over a 30 minute period, I had to get up and walk to the back galley in order to get water for my poor parched throat.

We then arrived to one of the longest immigration queues I’ve ever been in.

We had read that Casablanca had nothing to see. Well, after our journey into the country, our expectations certainly were set at a reasonable low level.

We couldn’t have been more wrong! Casablanca is so interesting. It is absolutely a lovely city. It’s the kind of city you can see yourself living in. Heba and her friend Aly, who was also attending the same conference, have a friend who is living in Casablanca. After we found our hotel, in the small labyrinth of a medina within a courtyard that reminded me of ones on the Isle of Capri in Italy, he came and met us and showed us around.

We went to the 3^rd largest mosque in the world just in time to see the sunset over the Atlantic Ocean. I haven’t seen the Atlantic Ocean in years. I still can’t help repeating the same thought I have every time I see the Atlantic Ocean from this side of the world: just over that ocean is home. The sunset and the mosque were just breathtaking. The mosque is so large that Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral could fit inside. Apparently it has heated floor tiles, a sun roof, and a view of the ocean through the flooring of the basement. It was too late in the day to go inside for a tour and we needed to leave too early in the morning the next day to go back, so this information is all just here say.

The friend, Sharif, then took us the popular main area of the city, where we took a long walk along the beach. Apparently the wind off of the Atlantic makes the temperature by the beach so cold that locals ‘turn their back to the beach,’ and refuse to live next to it. The beach is completely unmarred by the usual cacophony of a beachside area.

The locals everywhere are so different as well to their Egyptian ‘neighbours.’ There are a lot more women walking around, at night, alone, and without Muslim head coverings. The people also have more stereotypical African features than Arab ones. We finished our walk and our people watching, and found a great spot to sit and chill over a couple of beers. 

Sharif then drove us by all of the rest of the Casablanca neighbourhoods. We got a great feel for the place. It seems like a really livable city. Lots to do with a great feel to it.

We ended the day at a place called ‘Rick’s bar,’ a replica of the same one from Casablanca. It was such a cool place. It looked just like the movie (and played the movie on a loop to just help prompt your memory of the decor). We had fantastic cocktails, conversation, and called it a night.