The Little Green Man Is Not To Be Trusted

On Thursday we took a day trip into the Atlas Mountains through a company called Get Your Guide, as recommended by the hotel. I checked the reviews about both the trip and the company and they seemed positive (apart from any issues with refunds) and knowing that this was largely our only chance to see Moroccan life outside of a major city, we thought it best to give it a go. We are glad we did.

We were picked up from our hotel at 8:45am, with the company having given me a courtesy call the night before to rearrange the time from 9am. To be fair, our driver was there right on the dot and he led us to our 4x4, a necessity on some of the snowy mountain passes we would be traversing. One couple, from Agadir, were already in the car while we swung by one of the riads to pick up a charming Australian couple ego were now living in Amsterdam. They were really nice and we got to know them as the day progressed. As we drove out of downtown Marrakesh, which was a rat run due to all of the traffic displaying very little road sense, we marvelled at all of the pastel pink buildings, which is something for which the city is famed. Outside of the old city walls, it's remarkable how little of the city there actually is, even though around 75% of Marrakeshis (some 750,000 people) live in the newer parts of town. We headed eastwards towards the High Atlas, passing past the royal palace as we did. It was heavily guarded with roadblocks too as the King is currently in residence, receiving the president of the Ivory Coast, which is why Côte d'Ivoire flags are flying across the city next to the Moroccan ones, which are absolutely everywhere. Interestingly, the King has palaces in most major cities and visits them frequently, receiving foreign dignitaries quite often. It seems a far better system than everything being lumped in the capital.

The tour did consist of a fair bit of driving, largely because the High Atlas are about one hour outside of Marrakesh. We did a big loop, returning to the city from the south, meaning we got to see a great deal of the stunning countryside of this mountain range. We glimpsed Morocco's highest peak, Jebel Toubkal through the mist, which at 4167 metres is about half the size of Everest. We were very lucky as snow had fallen on Tuesday, meaning everything was glistening in the winter sun and many of the mountains looked like Dalmatians, spotted white and black where some of the snow had melted. Apparently some of the mountain passes were difficult to drive on Wednesday and even on Thursday there was still a fair bit of snow and ice on some of the highest routes, testing the skill of our driver quite significantly. It was a little scary at times as the wheels of the 4x4 skidded on the impacted snow, particularly as there was often a sheer drop just by the roadside but it was also quite an exhilarating drive, particularly with the scenery, making it worth it. And I wasn't scared that much.

We started the tour at the heavily touristed Ourika Valley, a popular destination for locals in the summer as temperatures here are up to 15 degrees cooler than in central Marrakesh, which can get up to 48C in June, July and August. The valley is stunning beautiful, with sheer cliff faces of red rock tainted by iron oxide flanking either side. Rock slides are all too common here and we saw evidence of this as a rock had hit the right front light of a car belonging to a rival tour company, completely incapacitating the vehicle. It was a massive boulder, which had smashed on the road after hitting the car, with the vehicle stricken in the middle of the road. We tried to help all we could but there was very little we could do, and the car was still there 90 minutes later as we made our way back down the valley to visit the second one. Passing through Oulmes, we saw many cafés and BBQ joints all selling tagines, advertised by the famed conical ceramic ware which keeps the meat bubbling in the stew until it is tender. Many cafés were over the shallow river, with flimsy string bridges straddling the wide valley. This area succumbed to flooding in 1995 and in November the road was submerged in one metre of water, necessitating repairs which as yet have not been completed. Assumedly all the bridges were washed away at this time, they certainly don't look very sturdy.

The town of Setti Fatma is at the end of the road, replete with a free further cafés and places to prepare for treks as the area acts as a good base to explore the High Atlas further. There are many Berber villages up in the mountains, and the villagers congregate every Sunday in the town to sell their wares at the market, particularly stone and woven goods which are unique to the area. This was our base for seeing a local waterfall which was around 30 minutes climb into the mountains. We could have gone on a small camel ride instead of this earlier in the day but our Australian friends wanted to see a waterfall and we had planned to do a camel ride next Tuesday anyway, so we gave it a miss. Whether it was worth it, I'm not too sure, the waterfall wasn't particularly impressive but it was great getting out into the hills, even if it was just for the smallest of possible walks. We grabbed a local guide, again through the tour company, and he guided us up the mountain pass to see the waterfall, with the beautiful mountains as a backdrop along with some of the Berber houses of Setti Fatma which were clinging to the hills. We also saw the minaret of the local mosque, with most mosques here being of similar design with a small tower and building attached to it, with no dome. The call to prayer, which we have heard rather intermittently during our stay, is quite evocative, particularly in the hills as the sound reverberates around.

On our walk, there were quite a few stalls selling wares for tourists, but this did seem to be typical local handicrafts rather than some of the tat we saw in Marrakesh. One our way up, we grabbed a glass of juice squeezed directly from oranges right in front of you and also observed a "Berber fridge" where bottles of drink we we stationed in front of a rock face while a light stream of water was passed through some fans, squirting the drinks with ice cold water. It was quite an ingenious design although there was electricity (and wifi) up here so it wasn't massively necessary. We also spoke to one of the tribe elders, a local Berber man who looked a little like Afghan president Hamid Karzai. He had very black uneven teeth but knew the patter very well, chatting to us as if he had met many tourists throughout the years. He delighted in telling us that the Berber philosophy is that we are all the same "with two eyes, a nose, two ears, a mouth, same blood" and this is a viewpoint to which I have always subscribed. The more I have travelled, the more I have realised this to be true - there may be cultural differences but fundamentally, humans are largely the same wherever you go. The Berber man, who was wearing a full robe which looked like the pattern on my living room cushions at home, was fascinating and on our way back down we bought some stone figurines - one wolf and one husky - cut from a local rock which changes colour when you add water to it. We saw one local shaping the stone using a rudimentary rotating circular chisel while we were happy for the money to go to the tribe as they receive no government support. Furthermore, as there was little hard selling (although the Berber man did take us around another store pointing out some good jewellery for my mother, a chess/backgammon set and a tea set (the Australian couple bought this)), we were happy to buy some products, particularly those so close to our spiritual animals. As he was wrapping them up, the Berber man made the noises of the wolf and husky, and gave us the Arabic and Berber words for them too. For 220 dirhams, we felt it was good value. All of this took place on our way down the mountain, which was far harder than on the way up, particularly as my shoes had next to no grip as the soles have eroded. I struggled to walk on the smooth polished pavements in Marrakech after it had rained so this was particularly tricky, although dodging over the river on rickety bridges and clambering up mountain passes like a goat was great fun - and we even got to sample some delicious chewy nut snack on the way up.

Before we had got to Setti Fatma, we had called off at a local women's cooperative who ground a local nut to make argan oil that is highly prized in the cosmetic industry (most commonly the nut is first eaten by a goat and passed through, with women harvesting the dung for the nut, but we saw no evidence of that here). It is also used as a tasty salad dressing, that we got to try with some fresh bread over a cup of delicious mint tea. Sometimes the most simple pleasures in life are the best and this was definitely the case. Upon arrival, we were shown around by one of the managers of the establishment, who pointed to four women who were sat on the ground, removing the soft shell around the nut before grinding it down in a special hand-driven machine to extract the oil. We got the chance to peel a few nuts ourselves while the lady then took us through the range of products which could be made with this oil, which is far less greasy than many of the oils which goes into cosmetics. Combined with different ingredients such as lemon and lavender, it can be used as an effective aftershave, nasal decongestant, nail strengthener and a way of alleviating dandruff. As she pointed this out, she ribbed Wolfie about his lack of hair, saying that it could also be used to boost hair growth. Whether all of this is scientifically proven, I don't know, it does seem to be a miracle oil if all of this was true, but no doubt it does have its uses vas the concoctions which were placed on our hands and face did at least smell nice. The nasal decongestant, skin moisturiser and migraine cures I can all accept as being true at least. After the talk, which took place on purple futons over mint tea, we were taken to the shop and felt obliged to buy something. Again, I didn't mind too much as the tour was free and it helps local people, so we picked up some of the local oil for use as a salad dressing as it had a nice smooth taste which was quite different to olive oil. We also got this as it was one of the few bottles that was under 100ml meaning we could take it on the plane and for 150 dirhams it was a fair enough price.

The Mizane Valley was the next on our visit and this was where the snowy roads were. We got out of the car on occasion to take some pictures and marvel at the wondrous snow-capped peaks with plunging valleys betwixt them. The snow up here was quite powdery but not particularly wet, quite unlike the snow back home - indeed it felt like it had been created by a dry ice machine. It was quite deep and seeing snow surrounded by Arabic writing was a bit of a headfuck as you don't expect such conditions in Arabic nations. We were quite lucky as it only ever snows here for around one week a year - at this time - and by the weekend it will be gone. The snow just added to the beauty of the place, with crystals glistening in the snow. Driving was difficult though and it was quite dicey when we met cars coming in the opposite direction while many of the locals just walked down the middle of the road too and we needed to navigate past them as well. They were very friendly though, waving to us as we made our way up the winding mountain road. Our destination was a small Berber village high in the mountains, where we were scheduled to have lunch at a traditional Berber house. The settlement must have contained only about twenty houses and was nestled amidst a couple of peaks, providing a jaw dropping backdrop to our meal of locally cooked delicacies. Getting to the house was quite difficult through the mud and snow (remember my lack of grip), traversing down a path alongside various other dwellings, all of which a rich clay colour as they were built out of local clay and straw. This included the one in which we had lunch, which contained a spartan living room with a long sofa, a bathroom (with a rare flushing toilet as well as a squat one which I preferred as the toilet flush was consistently going), a terrace and a kitchen in which three local ladies, all wearing traditional brown-patterned local dress, were preparing the food. This was the warmest room in the house by some distance, so it made sense to congregate there as it wasn't particularly warm outside. We opted to eat on the terrace, with the view of the mountains all around us, along with a cat who spent most of the time under the table and meowing incessantly, assumedly because she wanted food. The spread that was put on was exquisite. We started with some warm freshly baked bread dipped in olive oil, which was so delicious that I kept coming back for more. It was made in their own bread oven which was stationed just next to the front steps and adjacent to the hammam, a bullet shaped structure made out of the same clay as the house which acts like a steam bath - you light a fire underneath the clay floor and this heats up water placed in a special hole to create the steam effect - it's quite a clever design in a place where washing is tough as running water is scarce. The bread was the typical circular bread you get here, all cut up, and it absorbed the oil well. The bread just kept coming too, which worked well with the vegetable soup we had as a starter, thick, tasty and very warming. The main course was a tagine, but different to the ones in Marrakech as this was cooked over a charcoal fire, which made the meat more succulent yet smokey. This was served with courgette, potato and quince, which I had never tried before but delighted in its sweetness. Words cannot really describe how good this meal was, it was simply perfection - perfect scene, perfect food and perfect company as we got to know everyone over the meal while the sound of children playing in the snow in the background added to the magic of the scene. Cous cous served with sweet potato and carrot then followed, with some vegetable stock provided in order to reduce the dryness of the dish. This too was delicious, while we finished with oranges as dessert. We were all so full though that not many of us opted for an orange, and we tipped the cooks pretty handsomely for what was a truly unforgettable experience. Apparently, only this particular tour offers this as the ladies are a friend of someone the guide happened to start talking to when his car broke down in the area around two years ago and it is certainly a very nice addition, particularly as you can see the flat plains leading up to Marrakech from such a vantage point, demonstrating just how high you actually are.

The final valley to see was the Zat Valley, a huge wide valley which we descended into, with snowy mountain peaks on either side. Apparently Richard Branson has a luxury hotel in this area while the villages down in this area seem a little richer than those high up in the mountains. The buildings are marked by bright blue doors, contrasting wit the pink buildings quite sharply, while literally everyone we encountered on the road side - from donkey drivers to women carrying things on their backs - waved a friendly hello to us.

We soon found ourselves on the road back to Marrakech, snaking around mountains and observing tracks down which the road used to run but which have now been abandoned due to rock slides. This road was stunning, with the river carving its way through yet valley to our right and the occasional village on promontories above the road, with the simple minarets of the mosque the most recognizable sight. There were quite a few terraces and gardens built into the landscape, with apple trees, potatoes, olives and turnips the principle crops here (we also saw wheat terraces and olive trees in the previous valleys - all three were so different that different crops grow in them). We also went through the town of Tighdouine, which is quite a major place although the main high street here is currently undergoing renovation and there are diggers everywhere. We saw a load of local school kids pouring out of a local school while the town itself looked quite prosperous, with many tagine restaurants in operation, presumably to cater for tourists on their way into the Atlas Mountains.

The tour was surprisingly tiring and in the last half hour on our way back to the hotel, I struggled to keep my eyes open. We said goodbye to the Australian couple at their hotel and we saw a few local kids trying to scam them as soon as they had gotten out of the car - the danger of having a riad in the middle of the souk I guess - while soon we were back at our hotel where I needed to take a nap. This turned into a two hour snooze after which I woke up feeling quite groggy. It was around 8pm by this stage so as Wolfie cleaned all of the clay off our shoes that we had picked up in the mountains (I had tried to clean them in the snow but the mud was unbelievably sticky), we decided on what to do next. After a stupendous lunch, we weren't particularly hungry but we felt we couldn't just laze in the hotel all night either. There's little to do in Marrakesh on an evening - not unless you want to be hassled in the souks anyway - so we went into the heart of the Ville Nouvelle area near the hotel to sample an ice cream parlour which the guidebook recommended called Cafe 16. This is on Place de 16 Novembre and does a range of interesting local flavours including mint tea and kaab el-gazelle (almond cookie). These came in a sundae of three scoops, with rose and Chantilly being the third flavour. Both the almond cookie and the rose one were perhaps a little too floral for my taste, tasting of perfume, but they were intriguing flavours nonetheless, with the almond one having whole almonds in its light brown mass. The mint tea one was particularly delicious and although the decor was European, looking a little like an IKEA showroom in all honesty, the ice cream was worth it and we even got to sample an average Portuguese beer that we had not yet sampled.

The plan after this was to hit a few bars. We saw a lounge bar on the Place de 16 Novembre itself but on closer inspection it turned out to be more like a curry house and having just eaten, we felt it would be a little odd just to get a drink. So we headed up Avenue Mohammed V towards the Bar La Renaissance, where we had left our expensive Berber tea the night before. On the way, we saw an English pub called Le Chesterfield, which was on the first floor of a swanky hotel. It didn't look much like any English pub I had ever been in, aside from the range of average lagers on sale, but it was a pleasant enough place to be aside from the smokers (as smoking is still permitted in public buildings here). The bar was dark and done out like one of those wooden chess boxes you can get, indeed I felt like I was inside an eighteenth century mahogany sewing table, but the Moroccan beer was nice enough and we got free popcorn and nuts, although oddly they could only do 25cl on tap and not 50cl, assumedly they had ran out of glasses. Our next stop was La Renaissance, which has a terrace bar on the seventh floor, bathed in red luminous light from the giant 'bar' sign which attracted us here in the first place. Unfortunately the heaters were not working (we were warned about this by the nice gentleman who greeted us as we entered the ground floor bar as he remembered chasing after us with our tea the night before) and it was a bit nippy. In the lift on the way up, after speaking French to affirm we all wanted floor six (the terrace was only accessible by steps from the cocktail bar on floor six), we found out our fellow lift passengers were all English so had a brief chat about our experiences...