Travelers' Tales: Morocco

Moroccan majesty The Djemaa El Fna bustles in Marrakech; (right page) traveling through Essaouira and the High Atlas

MOROCCO

John & Judith Johnson traveled to Morocco with Audley

Within minutes of landing

at Marrakech Airport, we were whisked into the fast-track lane and through and out in 15 minutes. We later met people who’d spent hours standing in line.

Our private car took us to the Djemaa el Fna, the large public square in the heart of the city, and, from there, our guide led us on foot into the middle of the medina (old city) to the exquisite Riad Monceau. We stayed in a spacious ground-floor room that opened onto the tranquil courtyard garden, which was set around a pool. Having arrived to our hotel in the morning, we were ready for our private guide to show us around the medina.

Having been to Marrakech as a student, some half a century ago, I know how easy it is to get lost in the teeming madness of the

medina. Luckily, our private guide, Ali, was born and bred here. He appeared to know every single person in the old city and they him. He was proud to show off his city, taking us to parts that other tour guides don’t tend to reveal to visitors.

As darkness fell over the Djemaa el Fna, the last rays of the sun turned the tower of the Koutoubia Mosque fiery red against the lowering backdrop of the High Atlas. Lamps, flashlights and cooking fires were lit and the great square gradually flooded with people, as if bubbling up from underground springs. Locals and visitors together mixed with Berber dancers, street traders and cooks at smoking barbecues – children and old folk alike revelled in the joyous insanity of this square, whose size and atmosphere surely can’t be matched in all the world.

ESSENTIAL ESSAOUIRA

When we were planning this trip, Emma, our specialist, urged us to spend some days on the Atlantic coast, even though it normally wouldn’t have crossed our minds to do so. After three days in Marrakech, our driver took us on the half-day trip across the Argan Valley (where yes, the goats really do stand in trees) to the fishing port of Essaouira.

As before, we were met by our guide and led into the medina – less frantic than Marrakech, but no less historic. Originally a Carthaginian seaport with a later Portuguese fort, it’s more recently famous for being a Game of Thrones location: Astapor, home of the Unsullied. In the heart of the medina, we arrived at the Riad Watier to a warm and genuine welcome and another delightful stay.

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TRAVELERS’ TALES

After Marrakech, Essaouira ran at a slower pace. The streets of the medina are wider and boast many fine restaurants, which are kept well supplied by hundreds of identical blue fishing boats in the harbour. And while we had learned to cook tagine and trimmings at the Maison Arabe in Marrakech, in Essaouira it was a pastry course that we were excited about.

GETTING RAISED BY THE ATLAS

The third leg of the trip saw us leave Essaouira early morning for the drive by private car back to Marrakech, then on into the High Atlas. If the riads Monceau and

Watier had exceeded our expectations, the Kasbah Bab Ourika completely smashed them. Built in the traditional Berber style of red, rammed earth, its austere exterior hides an eclectic modern hotel with a fine restaurant and glorious gardens, studded about with hidden, shady corners complete with cushioned sofas and mountain views. We resolved immediately to return some day for a long, lazy weekend.

We took a camel ride with a private guide for just the two of us down the rocky road to the Ourika River as the sun set over the mountains. The hour on Hassan’s camels was a little uncomfortable, but saddle

‘OUR GUIDE SHOWED US TRAILS AND SIGHTS THAT WE WOULD NEVER HAVE FOUND ALONE’

soreness fades; great memories of the mountains, the sunset, the villages and the patient, plodding camels never will.

The following day, we met our guide, Mojar, for a trek up to a village to have lunch with a Berber family. The adventure was a gem and will be a treasured memory of the trip. Mojar is a seasoned mountain guide who soon assessed what was a comfortable pace for us and showed us trails and sights that we would never have found alone.

That left us with one more day to kick back and let the staff at the Kasbah Bab Ourika spoil us rotten. Then, our car arrived to speed us to the airport, where our guide (who had fast-tracked us in) sorted our paperwork and took us right to the security gate. Here, he wished us a pleasant flight, and thanked us for visiting Morocco.

That’s right. He thanked us.

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