I’m Ready For My Close Up, Mr. De Mille

I found it very hard to wake up on Day 6 to begin our final leg to Marrakesh/Marrakech.











The riad was very comfortable and our dinner of Tagine the night before was nummy, especially when paired with a nice bottle of French wine.







Morocco is a Muslim country and as such Moroccans themselves do not imbibe but they do understand the need of for us foreigners to have a drink. Hotels and restaurants are allowed to apply for a liquor license and to serve wine and beer if they choose. 

But outside the larger cities, Coke was as exciting as it got for us.  






 

So with a slight headache and a fresh layer of skin we headed out. Seemingly overnight, the roads had become festooned with red banners and flags of Morocco.

King Mohammed VI was coming for a visit the next day and the town was in party mode, with everything fixed, cleaned and painted in time for his arrival. 











On the previous day, we had entered a number of the small towns and villages around Quarzazate,  receiving the same treatment with dozens of workers hurriedly fixing potholes, pouring new sidewalks and painting buildings that fronted the main street.  You could feel the excitement in the air.

Quarzazate is home to Morocco’s film industry.  They have been making movies here for over fifty years and a tour of the Atlas Studios was to be our first stop of the day.  Lawrence of Arabia was filmed here so that may explain my geographical mix up as a child.
















The studio tour was a decided departure from our usual diet of Kasbahs and Ksars.  

 

Newer  movies made at Atlas that you may recognize include: Last Temptations of Christ (1988), Alexander (2004), Black Hawk Down (2001), Kingdom of Heaven (2005), Babel (2006), The Mummy (1999), Star Wars (1977), The Living Daylights (1987), Gladiator (2000), and Body of Lies (2008).

 

Maintaining our cinematic theme, our next stop was the Ksar of Ait Ben Haddou. The Ksar is located on a hill above the Ounila River and was one the main stops on the caravan route between the Sahara and Marrakech/Marrakesh. 

It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and has been in existence since the 17^th Century.  Which is pretty good for something made out of mud.

Due to it good condition and picturesque qualities, it has been used as a set for numerous movies over the last 50 years.

While it is a protected site, it is occupied by a few families who make their living dealing with the thousands of tourists who visit each year. 

From transportation,

to entertainment, 

to selling them a nice Berber carpet to take home.



  

 






Leaving Ait Ben Haddou behind and humming Crosby, Stills and Nash we are finally on our way to the mysterious city of Marrakech/Marrakesh.

As we drove over the top of the High Atlas Mountains, we were passed by hundreds of soldiers, police, and bureaucrats in dozens of fancy cars heading to Quarzazate ahead of King Mohammed VI’s arrival.  

Morocco’s constitution provides for a monarchy, parliament and an independent judiciary. The King as the head of state has extensive powers. In our discussions with Jamal, the King seemed well liked and is moving Morocco towards a constitutional monarchy all be it a bit slower then some would like.

A Turkish Delight

Quarzazate, our stop on Day 5 was the hometown of our guide Jamal.  He was looking forward to sleeping on his own bed and going to a Hammam.  Lora Lei immediately jumped on this, having just read about Hammam and finagled an offer for us to join him at his local public Hammam.  

 

 

 

The word Hammam is Turkish.  In western countries, a Hammam would be called a Turkish bath, sauna or steam bath.  Let me be very clear, the process is not a spa treatment. For many Moroccans, it is a weekly process and has been part of their lifestyle since the Ottoman Empire rolled across North Africa in the 11 Century. It is a part social and part hygienic experience.  Sort of a Tim Horton’s without Timbits, where people get together to catch up with their neighbours and friends.







 

Despite it closeness to Europe and huge numbers of tourists, Morocco is a very traditional country.  Especially so when you are outside the larger centres of Fez, Marrakesh and Casablanca, here all the women clothe themselves from head to toe in traditional garb.   So, it was no surprise to find two entrances into the Hammam.  There are no mixed Hammam in Morocco.  I was lucky as I was accompanied by Jamal while the ladies were left to fend for themselves.
 

I can only personally speak to what happened to me but when we compared experiences, they seem to parallel each other. What surprised us all was that the women with no hint of shyness went topless for most of the process and bottomless for the rest of it while on the men’s side, we wore our bottoms throughout the entire process. Go figure and yes the ladies dressed appropriately.  To quote Nonie, “the Moroccan women are able to hide quite a bit under their djellabas.”

After paying a 10 dirham entrance fee and receiving a big bowl of this dark grease like substance, we entered what was immediately recognizable as a change room that looked no different from the many public change rooms I have seen around the world.  Stripping down to my tighty whiteys, I was handed two large pails and another bowl and led into the first room.  My mind immediately went into overdrive in an attempt to figure out what the grease, bowl and buckets were for.

The Hammam consisted of three rooms, hot, hottest and not so hot. We entered the hot room and it was freaking hot.  I was instructed to fill both buckets with hot water from taps located along the wall of the room.  The hot water coming from the tap was near boiling point so you needed to be careful to mix water from both the hot and cold taps to prevent scalding yourself. Following instructions, I used the bowl to scoop water over myself in a do it yourself shower, emptying both pails.

Shower over, we moved into the hottest room. The air was sucked out of my lungs. Fighting hypoxia, I refilled my pails, and was led to a clear floor area of the crowded room. Here I was told to throw my buckets across the floor, which didn’t make sense to me till I realized that they did not provide mats and that I would be lying on the bare and extremely hot, tile floor. Lying on my back, I either passed out from the heat or found my inner bliss; either way is was very relaxing when I wasn’t gasping for breath.  Once my back had reached medium well, I was told to flip over on my stomach.  After warming my front side, I discovered that a Hammam is not something that can be properly completed alone.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I was instructed to smear and scrub the brown grease looking stuff all over my body. Getting some help from Jamal for those hard to reach places.  I learned later that the grease is called “sabon beldi” and is a soap made from black olives.  

Once greased up, I was introduced to our Hammam attendant. For another 60 dirham, the attendants are available to provide you with the full Hammam. He stood about 5’ 4” and was as wide as he was tall. Burly would be an apt description, not fat.  No English or French, so he gave his instructions using grunts and gestures.  First, he grunted at me to me lay on my stomach, not a comfortable position for someone who has recently been greased up. Several buckets of rinse water later, it suddenly it felt like he was rubbing my back with 60 grit sandpaper. He was using a scrub glove called Kiis. Not too painful, more like the feeling you get when haven’t seen the dental hygienist in a few years but not something you would wish to prolong.

He sandpapered my back then had me roll over and did the same to my front, including my head, face and the soles of my feet. I was unclear as to what he was trying to accomplish but it became apparent when I sat up and opened my eyes. Dead skin was everywhere.  Your body can shed between 30,000 and 40,000 skin cells every hour, I am sure I had shed my quota for the next year.  It was quite astonishing.

 Numerous buckets of rinse water later, I was pristine. There wasn’t any part of my body (except the boys) that was not covered in fresh new skin. I positively glowed.  A little clean up of the area and I was again ordered to lie down on my stomach. Smeared with some oil, the attendant proceeded to massage,   bend and manipulate me in ways that I was sure God had not meant.  He would take me just to the edge of physical damage and pain then release.  My grunts became interspersed with his grunts.  With a final grunt, he grabbed my head in a hold that I am sure has been banned by most police departments in Canada and gave it a final stretch.

I took a few moments to sit along the wall and catch my breath before proceeding to the not so hot room. Here you could sit on the floor, sweat some more and relax with your own thoughts or join in the lively conversations happening around the room.  If you were smart, you brought your own refreshments.

The ladies experienced a similar process but with no Jamal to lead them, struggled at first with what to do. A nice local took them in hand and guided them through the process. Assisted by two attendants, they were exfoliated but sadly no massage. Nonie still has her Kiis for anyone interested in enjoying their own Hammam.

 

It was truly a unique experience. Hammam varies from country to country. Morocco was the only one I found where exfoliation is part of the cleansing process.

Stopping to Smell the Roses

Today’s coffee did not have the same impact as yesterdays but the view was still pretty nice as we woke up to the sun rising over the Dades Valley.

Up early and with breakfast under our belts, we hit the road for a walk and ride into the Dades Gorge, the first stop on today’s journey.

Not an easy ride rewarded by another stunning view.  

The Dades Gorge and Valley separates the Mid Atlas from the High Atlas Mountains. Not as accessible as yesterday’s gorges.

Off road, for a close look at the Atlas Mountains and discovered really amazing cell phone coverage. You can run but you can't hide.

Not sure what this nomadic family found to do, living in the middle of nowhere. No satellite dish on the tent, no Starbucks in the hood. Putting rough in "roughing it".  

 

Next stop the rose gardens of the Dade's Valley.






 











 

Rose water, rose perfume, rose cream, rose soap, rose spice and anything else you could imagine adding rose too and some you wouldn't. Rose cigarettes.  

Next stop, Marrakesh.  

Gorgeous Gorges, Voluminous Valleys, Awesome Oases (Plural of Oasis)

 

Day 4 dawned early so we could watch the sun rise over the dunes. We had to tip toe around a minefield of tourists who had pulled their mattresses out of their tents to sleep under the stars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were rewarded with a pretty nice view.

 

 

 

  

 

 

Going back to bed was not an option as we had another long day ahead of us.  Sipping a coffee with the sun rising over the dunes was a very sensuous experience, nothing I had ever felt at Starbucks. Perhaps it was the strong coffee. 

 

 

The girls received a parting gift as we were about to leave the bivouac. Our hunky Tuareg staff person gave them a private viewing on how to organize and prepare your turban.  As we headed out, there was lots of giggling and comments about how long his turban was.  


 

 

We retraced our steps from the dunes and back out onto the gravel plains. It was amazing how quickly it went from sand dunes to gravel plain. 













We are heading up into the High Atlas Mountains.

We will pass  through the Ziz and Toudgha Valleys. The valleys have active rivers so  they are very lush and green. 







The valleys were the preferred routes of the gold/salt caravans due in the most part because of this lushness.  



 






The Toudgha Gorge narrows down to 10 m at its narrowest point and made a nice hike.

Along the route we passed more Kasbahs than you could shake a scimitar at. One of these pictures is not a Kasbah. Can you guess which one and what it is.

The day was even more successful when we discovered tagine and Moroccan salad on both the lunch and dinner menu. Mmmmmmm!