Showing posts with label morocco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label morocco. Show all posts
January 09, 2008
Ain't I fast? Piiiiictures!
Well, this was a productive day - Moroccan stories and pictures sorted out straight after returning. A quick preview here, have a look at flickr for everything else (there are a lot!).
Essaouira
After the chaos and frustration of the mountains we decide to do things differently.
Destination: the Atlantic coast. Essaouira to be exact; a previous '70s hippie-hideout and currently a surfers' paradise. Most of all, I need some r&r. Sun, good food, views across the ocean - it all sounds ideal right now. And we take control: we've had enough of depending on an unreliable public transport system and we leave Marrakesh's insane traffic behind in our very own car. Well, for the next 48 hours it is, anyway.
We have no idea what awaits us down the road so I'm pretty excited to be heading to a new place. The road there is straight, long and narrow and we're driving right into the setting sun. Unexpectedly, the landscape is one of an almost eerie desolation and emptiness. Rocks, an occasional tree and then nothing. Behind us there is only a far-off mountainridge. The drive back during the day promises to be pretty spectacular.
The town itself is a quaint Arabic version of Greek island towns. Strangely familiar - but not quite - to S., full of photo opportunities for me.
The food here stands out. The first night, after a late arrival, we stumble upon a true 'hole-in-the-wall': a restaurant called Chez les freres, which seats exactly six guests. A chubby, happy Moroccan entertains us while we enjoy the house specialties. The fish tajine that evening remains one of the best of the whole week.
The next day: lunch is a mix of grilled fish. Sitting on the water front, in the sun, and having plate after plate of the freshest fish, shrimps, calamari etc brought out. Bliss. Dinner is again at an accidental discovery. Harira, couscous and bread in a setting that would be a hit in any art-conscious European city. The walls are completely covered by posters of works by local painters, with laidback jazz playing in the background.
Essaouira itself is a maze of souvenir shops where we perfect our negotiating skills. To escape the crowded streets we drive south. Sidi Kaouki is supposedly an increasingly popular spot with waves for the adventurous and experienced surfer. It turns out to be an almost deserted beach with beautiful warm weather and all of three cafes, a guesthouse and a campsite. I can't think of a better place for a weekend hide-away.
The anticipated drive back to Marrakesh starts out with disappointment. The empty steppe we had expected to admire is blanketed is a thick layer of fog. The eerieness remains but not quite in the way we were expecting. When the blue sky returns I'm surprised to see that - although I can't imagine anything growing out there - there is an occasional house and regular herds of sheep and goats. And donkey traffic is thriving - but I wonder where on earth these men and their animals are coming from and where they are headed to.
Destination: the Atlantic coast. Essaouira to be exact; a previous '70s hippie-hideout and currently a surfers' paradise. Most of all, I need some r&r. Sun, good food, views across the ocean - it all sounds ideal right now. And we take control: we've had enough of depending on an unreliable public transport system and we leave Marrakesh's insane traffic behind in our very own car. Well, for the next 48 hours it is, anyway.
We have no idea what awaits us down the road so I'm pretty excited to be heading to a new place. The road there is straight, long and narrow and we're driving right into the setting sun. Unexpectedly, the landscape is one of an almost eerie desolation and emptiness. Rocks, an occasional tree and then nothing. Behind us there is only a far-off mountainridge. The drive back during the day promises to be pretty spectacular.
The town itself is a quaint Arabic version of Greek island towns. Strangely familiar - but not quite - to S., full of photo opportunities for me.
The food here stands out. The first night, after a late arrival, we stumble upon a true 'hole-in-the-wall': a restaurant called Chez les freres, which seats exactly six guests. A chubby, happy Moroccan entertains us while we enjoy the house specialties. The fish tajine that evening remains one of the best of the whole week.
The next day: lunch is a mix of grilled fish. Sitting on the water front, in the sun, and having plate after plate of the freshest fish, shrimps, calamari etc brought out. Bliss. Dinner is again at an accidental discovery. Harira, couscous and bread in a setting that would be a hit in any art-conscious European city. The walls are completely covered by posters of works by local painters, with laidback jazz playing in the background.
Essaouira itself is a maze of souvenir shops where we perfect our negotiating skills. To escape the crowded streets we drive south. Sidi Kaouki is supposedly an increasingly popular spot with waves for the adventurous and experienced surfer. It turns out to be an almost deserted beach with beautiful warm weather and all of three cafes, a guesthouse and a campsite. I can't think of a better place for a weekend hide-away.
The anticipated drive back to Marrakesh starts out with disappointment. The empty steppe we had expected to admire is blanketed is a thick layer of fog. The eerieness remains but not quite in the way we were expecting. When the blue sky returns I'm surprised to see that - although I can't imagine anything growing out there - there is an occasional house and regular herds of sheep and goats. And donkey traffic is thriving - but I wonder where on earth these men and their animals are coming from and where they are headed to.
Inshallah - or: how a trip to Morocco doesn't turn out quite the way you expect it to
(warning: it's long!)
We've been in the country for two days, taking in all the sights, smells, sounds, chaos and contradictions of Marrakesh, and we're now on a leaking, cold bus en route to Ouarzazate, a little town beyond the High Atlas mountains. After two hours of slow driving in heavy rain and fog (I know there is nothing next to the road except a deep abyss so maybe it's good not to be able to actually see that) we stop in a roadside village of a couple of shops and teahouses. In the distance we see the snow-covered mountains that we need to cross to get to Ouarzazate.
At first, it's a 'break'. Except that no one knows how long this break will last for. One hour, four hours, a day - the only real answer we get is inshallah. No one knows. There's also not really anyone who can tell us what's going on - snow, an avalanche of rocks, or just a general shut-down of the mountain pass. The weather isn't helping. It's raining sleet, hailing, very windy and freezing freezing cold.
We wander around, completely inappropriately dressed - I, at least, wasn't expecting to be caught in a snowstorm. We try to find a warm place, but none of the buildings have heating, nor reliable electricity (every time the radio is turned on, all lights shut down, but again and again they try to have everything on...). The souvenir and tea salesmen are doing good business, we warm up with some sweet mint tea and after a while we hear some good news. We're set to go, and we see the barrier gate open up and the first trucks pull up to head across the mountains.
Except that our bus isn't moving. Nor are the trucks in front of us. All passenger cars pass us by, but we sit and wait. And wait. And wait. Every now and then one of us goes outside to find a toilet, some tea and some news on what's going on. By now all electricity has disappeared and the toilets are lit by a few candles. Still no luck to find a warmer place. At the end of the afternoon I start wondering if we will start moving again that day at all. Turning the bus around is no option - the road is too narrow. Any cars going back to Marrakesh are gone by that time and I start thinking how we'll get through the night without extra heat, blankets, dry clothing.
The Moroccans on the bus are being more inventive and one of them brings in a pot of smouldering charcoal to try to get some heat in the bus. I've snuggled up in a blanket borrowed from one of the women to warm up a little bit when S. comes back on the bus looking for our driver. Apparently a car towards the back of the line is turning around and we can get a lift back to Marrakesh. But of course, our driver is nowhere to be found. By the time we do get our packs, the car has left. Returning to the bus seems pointless and we decided to see if anyone else can take us. A little boy comes up and starts talking to S. in French. I'm not paying attention until he turns to me and says the boy offered us a sleeping place in his family's house. Considering that it's getting colder by the minute - and it's all about the adventure, right? - we take him up on his offer and walk down the hill to his house.
The boy's dad, Aomar, welcomes us in and shows us to the guestroom in the Berber house. We talk a little, and arrange that we can use the local hammam so the boy takes us there.
Since 12am that day the one thing keeping me up was the thought of a hot shower in a riad in Ouarzazate. I'd lost hope, and walking in to the steaming rooms of the hammam and letting scorching hot water pour over me feels quite incredible. When we get back to the house, dinner is served. Lamb and vegetables straight from the tajine, of course with bread and sweetened tea. We (or well S., I'm not really acknowledged) talk to Aomar about his life in the village, Morocco, the relationship between Berbers and Arabs and a bit of international politics. The only heating available is a charcoal pot which doesn't have much effect so it's an early night for us and we get underneath a huge stack of blankets.
The next day feels like a new world. The view from the window looks across beautiful mountains, with cloudless bright blue sky! We go outside where Aomar's daughter has prepared breakfast: a thick yellow soup with bread, eggs and tea. Chickens and sheep wander around the patch of ground in front of the house, and the sky is the blueest I've ever seen it. The sun is out bright and, best of all, the queue of trucks on the road is gone. We are assured buses going back to Marrakesh will pass by and make a scheduled stop in the village so we walk up to the road, settle at a balcony in the sun and wait. And wait. And wait.
But, waiting in the sun isn't nearly as bad as waiting in sleet and wind. In front of us though, trucks start stopping and the road clogs up again. I look up ahead and see the barrier gate towards the mountains go down.... again. Deja-vu.
After a couple of buses drive past into the opposite direction, but without making that promised stop, we get restless. Aomar and his friends keep reassuring us that one of them eventually will stop. The mountain has held us up long enough by now, and we just want to get back to Marrakesh to make new plans. When getting up in the morning the mountains looked terribly tempting but seeing the pass close up again in good weather confirms our decision to turn back. If only someone would take us.
It's 3pm by the time we are back in Marrakesh, driven by a Moroccon guy who tells us a bit about his work, and after being amazed by the scenery. Truly stunning. After a quick lunch we get out of the city again, but heading into the opposite direction this time: the Pacific coast.
We've been in the country for two days, taking in all the sights, smells, sounds, chaos and contradictions of Marrakesh, and we're now on a leaking, cold bus en route to Ouarzazate, a little town beyond the High Atlas mountains. After two hours of slow driving in heavy rain and fog (I know there is nothing next to the road except a deep abyss so maybe it's good not to be able to actually see that) we stop in a roadside village of a couple of shops and teahouses. In the distance we see the snow-covered mountains that we need to cross to get to Ouarzazate.
At first, it's a 'break'. Except that no one knows how long this break will last for. One hour, four hours, a day - the only real answer we get is inshallah. No one knows. There's also not really anyone who can tell us what's going on - snow, an avalanche of rocks, or just a general shut-down of the mountain pass. The weather isn't helping. It's raining sleet, hailing, very windy and freezing freezing cold.
We wander around, completely inappropriately dressed - I, at least, wasn't expecting to be caught in a snowstorm. We try to find a warm place, but none of the buildings have heating, nor reliable electricity (every time the radio is turned on, all lights shut down, but again and again they try to have everything on...). The souvenir and tea salesmen are doing good business, we warm up with some sweet mint tea and after a while we hear some good news. We're set to go, and we see the barrier gate open up and the first trucks pull up to head across the mountains.
Except that our bus isn't moving. Nor are the trucks in front of us. All passenger cars pass us by, but we sit and wait. And wait. And wait. Every now and then one of us goes outside to find a toilet, some tea and some news on what's going on. By now all electricity has disappeared and the toilets are lit by a few candles. Still no luck to find a warmer place. At the end of the afternoon I start wondering if we will start moving again that day at all. Turning the bus around is no option - the road is too narrow. Any cars going back to Marrakesh are gone by that time and I start thinking how we'll get through the night without extra heat, blankets, dry clothing.
The Moroccans on the bus are being more inventive and one of them brings in a pot of smouldering charcoal to try to get some heat in the bus. I've snuggled up in a blanket borrowed from one of the women to warm up a little bit when S. comes back on the bus looking for our driver. Apparently a car towards the back of the line is turning around and we can get a lift back to Marrakesh. But of course, our driver is nowhere to be found. By the time we do get our packs, the car has left. Returning to the bus seems pointless and we decided to see if anyone else can take us. A little boy comes up and starts talking to S. in French. I'm not paying attention until he turns to me and says the boy offered us a sleeping place in his family's house. Considering that it's getting colder by the minute - and it's all about the adventure, right? - we take him up on his offer and walk down the hill to his house.
The boy's dad, Aomar, welcomes us in and shows us to the guestroom in the Berber house. We talk a little, and arrange that we can use the local hammam so the boy takes us there.
Since 12am that day the one thing keeping me up was the thought of a hot shower in a riad in Ouarzazate. I'd lost hope, and walking in to the steaming rooms of the hammam and letting scorching hot water pour over me feels quite incredible. When we get back to the house, dinner is served. Lamb and vegetables straight from the tajine, of course with bread and sweetened tea. We (or well S., I'm not really acknowledged) talk to Aomar about his life in the village, Morocco, the relationship between Berbers and Arabs and a bit of international politics. The only heating available is a charcoal pot which doesn't have much effect so it's an early night for us and we get underneath a huge stack of blankets.
The next day feels like a new world. The view from the window looks across beautiful mountains, with cloudless bright blue sky! We go outside where Aomar's daughter has prepared breakfast: a thick yellow soup with bread, eggs and tea. Chickens and sheep wander around the patch of ground in front of the house, and the sky is the blueest I've ever seen it. The sun is out bright and, best of all, the queue of trucks on the road is gone. We are assured buses going back to Marrakesh will pass by and make a scheduled stop in the village so we walk up to the road, settle at a balcony in the sun and wait. And wait. And wait.
But, waiting in the sun isn't nearly as bad as waiting in sleet and wind. In front of us though, trucks start stopping and the road clogs up again. I look up ahead and see the barrier gate towards the mountains go down.... again. Deja-vu.
After a couple of buses drive past into the opposite direction, but without making that promised stop, we get restless. Aomar and his friends keep reassuring us that one of them eventually will stop. The mountain has held us up long enough by now, and we just want to get back to Marrakesh to make new plans. When getting up in the morning the mountains looked terribly tempting but seeing the pass close up again in good weather confirms our decision to turn back. If only someone would take us.
It's 3pm by the time we are back in Marrakesh, driven by a Moroccon guy who tells us a bit about his work, and after being amazed by the scenery. Truly stunning. After a quick lunch we get out of the city again, but heading into the opposite direction this time: the Pacific coast.
Opposites
(written on Jan 7)
On the plane, heading to a next - or previous - destination: Spain.
Morocco has been intense, much too short, fascinating and challenging. In only five days we've seen old and new citylife; mountains, empty steppes and gorgeous coastline; poverty and sheer decadence; snowstorms and sunny beaches - and most of these opposites happened within the same day.
I'm amazed at the distances we've travelled and different places we've seen and cannot wait to see what is beyond those mountains that wouldn't let us through....
(stories to follow)
On the plane, heading to a next - or previous - destination: Spain.
Morocco has been intense, much too short, fascinating and challenging. In only five days we've seen old and new citylife; mountains, empty steppes and gorgeous coastline; poverty and sheer decadence; snowstorms and sunny beaches - and most of these opposites happened within the same day.
I'm amazed at the distances we've travelled and different places we've seen and cannot wait to see what is beyond those mountains that wouldn't let us through....
(stories to follow)
January 06, 2008
Bonjour!
You would expect to pick up some Arabic while travelling in Morocco. Not true. But, my French is making remarkable progress though.
We're on our last day in Morocco, and things are uhm, going differently from expected. It's still all good though.
Proper updates later of course. For now this:
the good - wonderful food; amazing sights and smells and sounds in Marrakesh; stunning views across the High Atlas; driving through no-mans-land on our way to the ocean; a hot Moroccan hammam after spending a day in the freeeezing cold.
the bad - it's too bloody cold; being stuck on top of a freezing cold mountain for a day and night; the trip being too short.
More later, a bientot!
We're on our last day in Morocco, and things are uhm, going differently from expected. It's still all good though.
Proper updates later of course. For now this:
the good - wonderful food; amazing sights and smells and sounds in Marrakesh; stunning views across the High Atlas; driving through no-mans-land on our way to the ocean; a hot Moroccan hammam after spending a day in the freeeezing cold.
the bad - it's too bloody cold; being stuck on top of a freezing cold mountain for a day and night; the trip being too short.
More later, a bientot!
December 22, 2007
Eek!
So, this trip to Morocco.
It started out as a not very serious comment (or so I thought....) on a second date: 'hey, maybe I should convince you to come to Morocco with me!'. I laughed it off then.
And now look what I've gotten myself into. I still can't quite believe that I am really going. Next time I see the person who made that comment is middle of next week, in Madrid, after just seeing him off at the airport to Athens.
Eek!
It started out as a not very serious comment (or so I thought....) on a second date: 'hey, maybe I should convince you to come to Morocco with me!'. I laughed it off then.
And now look what I've gotten myself into. I still can't quite believe that I am really going. Next time I see the person who made that comment is middle of next week, in Madrid, after just seeing him off at the airport to Athens.
Eek!
November 20, 2007
Travel planning time
I just borrowed the Morocco LP from a friend.... it's time to start finding out where exactly I'm going in January!
Wheee, this is half the fun of travelling.
Wheee, this is half the fun of travelling.
October 30, 2007
Changing the topic: Travel
Another highlight of this week: I've just booked new travel tickets! Woohoo.
Am spending five days in Marrakech and a short day on the way back in Madrid in January.
Cannot. Wait.
Hugely exciting.
Am spending five days in Marrakech and a short day on the way back in Madrid in January.
Cannot. Wait.
Hugely exciting.
October 07, 2007
Moroccan cuisine
I currently have a big Moroccan tajine on loan from a friend who's off to Uganda for a few months to see gorilla's and more.
It's been sitting in my house for months though, without having anything to do. Saturday, though, was spent shopping for ingredients for the following dish. It turned out quite well luckily!
Now.... off to Morocco to buy one for myself?
Moroccan fish tagine with coriander couscous
(from here)
It's been sitting in my house for months though, without having anything to do. Saturday, though, was spent shopping for ingredients for the following dish. It turned out quite well luckily!
Now.... off to Morocco to buy one for myself?
Moroccan fish tagine with coriander couscous
Ingredients
1 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tbsp ground nut oil
1 tsp whole cumin seeds
1 tsp ginger
1 cinnamon stick
1 preserved lemon or normal lemon, chopped
12 green olives, stoned and roughly chopped
1 tbsp home-made harrissa (see below)
125ml/4fl oz white wine
200ml/7fl oz fish stock
1 pinch of saffron
500g/1lb 2oz mixed firm fish, such as monkfish, gurnard, mackerel
200g/7oz mussels
100g/3½oz cherry tomatoes
couscous and coriander to serve
For the home-made harrissa
3 fresh red chillies, roughly chopped
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1-2 lemons, juice only
4 tbsp olive oil
salt
freshly ground black pepper
Method
1. Heat the ground nut oil in a tagine and gently cook the onion and garlic until soft.
2. Add the cumin, ginger, cinnamon stick, preserved lemon and green olives and cook for two minutes.
3. To make the harrissa put the chillies, garlic, lemon juice and olive oil into a food processor and blend into a rough paste.
4. Stir in the harrissa and cook for one minute.
5. Add the wine and fish stock and the saffron and bring to a gentle simmer.
6. Add the fish and cook for a couple of minutes, then add the mussels and cherry tomatoes, season with salt and pepper and cover. Cook gently for 6-7 minutes.
7. Serve on a bed of steamed couscous and sprinkle with freshly chopped coriander.
(from here)
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