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| Please remember, the most famous movie set in Morocco is all about people trying to escape it. |
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Couscous. It was the only thing that looked palatable.
Special mention to mint tea, which is delicious. No jokes here, it actually is delicious. |
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The horror!
Suffice to say, the best toilet we came across was on the Marrakech express, and that was a highlight for the simple fact it had paper!
I now realize it is possible to avoid going to the toilet for a month if you really have to. |
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| Ah Tangiers. In this exotic city, east meets west, Africa meets Europe and raw sewerage meets the sea.
The visitor to Tangiers will be happy to know that the locals can speak English, French, Spanish, German, hell, probably even Mongolian. Unfortunately, these language skills will be universally employed in selling you soapstone elephants and shoddy chess sets.
If you really want to buy though, the medina in Fez is the place to go. However, with over 10,000 streets packed into a small area, it is recommended you take a guide. It is rumoured that several members of Rommel’s “Afrika Corps” are still trying to find their way out.
Casablanca is, of course, the most famous name associated with Morocco. By all accounts, it is a vibrant, bustling modern city. What a shame then that I only had time to step on to the platform and take a picture of the sign, before my train left.
The central plaza of Marrakech is called “the magic square” and indeed, many visitors are astounded at the rare feats of disappearance that their wallets manage to perform.
The square is an exotic mix of spice sellers, snake charmers and street urchins. Even the Artful Dodger wouldn’t have lasted five minutes among this lot.
Our hotel was located slightly back from the square. While the rooms were clean, the showers had more pipes than a grateful dead fan. The end result was a trickle of cold water that, quite frankly, smelled worse than we did. |
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In a desperate effort to get out of Tangiers, I rather unwisely spent the last of my Moroccan cash on a train ticket to Marrakech, reasoning that I could change money in the next city.
However, much to my dismay, I arrived at the next town to discover that the king had died and everything was shut for a few days due to mourning.
So, it was thumbs up, hitching back to Tangiers through the Moroccan desert. Luckily I was picked up by a couple from Casablanca in a Range Rover, and my trip back was considerably more comfortable than the one I had actually paid for.
For those of you interested in hitch hiking your way across Morocco, my suggestion is to make sure you have a few survival essentials. Water, sturdy boots and a car with a full tank of petrol is a good place to start. |
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The magic square at Marrakech - taken 10 minutes before my camera was stolen |
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Having aborted one attempt at Morocco, I decided to go back with a Canadian guy I met in Seville.
Arriving at the port, we were met by a tout who asked us where we were from. We replied “Australia” and “Canada”.
He then proceeded to tell us that the hostel we were going to stay in was closed, despite the fact that I had stayed there three days earlier. Having been in Morocco once, the task of turning him down fell to me.
When I insisted that we were still going to our hostel, he said “You are not Australian, Australians are nice. You must be Yugoslavian or something.”
Later, he became even more agitated by my refusals. He turned to me and said “I don’t like you. I’ll cut you up.” Then, in the same breath, he turned to my friend and said “I like you, you can come with me.”
Tempting as the offer was, we had to turn him down. |
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32,725,847 (2005) |
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Rabat |
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The Moroccan Dirham
A$1 = 7 Dirham (9/10 of a soapstone elephant) |
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1999 |
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Tangiers, Fez, Casablanca, Marrakech, Berber camp in the Sahara
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8 Quite high here. The poor buggers looked exhausted in the heat too. |
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No idea. It’s an Islamic country. |
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