Morocco

I've been to Morocco twice. The first time I went with Janet to Marrakech, the High Atlas and the Sahara. 

Join me on the trip down memory lane trip. We found a cute little riad online and booked it for the first couple of days with a view to making-it-up-as-we-go-along.

Roof terrace lounging area is the delight of most riads.

The one place we definitely wanted to go to was Kasbah du Toubkal a mountain retreat in the High Atlas. We stayed one night and went on a short hike along a mountain stream.

What a view!

We had dinner in this room.

Anyone for a game of chess?

When the cab came to pick us up. Janet asked to have a ride on the donkey. That was funny watching her get on it - screaming - "Oh my God it's moving". Her first time riding! See how pleased she looks with herself.

The night before we had debated where next? The Sahara or Essaouira on the coast! We chose the Sahara as it seemed like more of an adventure. So the Mercedes car was booked and we set off around the wiggly mountain range on the smallest of roads with a sheer drop should we have strayed off our path. The mountains seemed to go on forever and subsequent journey took nearly three days stopping along the way to have lunch and see the sights.

As the mountains levelled out the rose coloured earth shaped the landscape making it breathtakingly unique.

Prior to leaving, at the last moment, I had thrown in a few CD's just in case the riad had a player. Lucky for us the Mercedes had one and we listened to my Budda Bar collection and an Apollo 440 double CD along the way.

We stopped to look at their famous Atlas film studio in Quarzazate where they made The Jewel In The Crown, Cleopatra and Star Wars. However it was a view from the outside as we were on a schedule. It's known as the Hollywood of Morocco.

We had arrived, at what seemed like the end of our journey, only to find another more arduous one was about to unfold. The adventure was to trek two hours into the Sahara on the top of a camel being led by a wissened-up old Berber man with rotten black teeth. Janet and I were just two of a party of 12 - the other being very unfriendly French folks, who acted as though we were not there. Firstly the obligatory turban was wound around the head. An easy to tie design from a very long scarf. We were both shown our camels and encouraged to hop onboard. The day soon turned to night and we appeared to be walking in to the pitch black. No street lamps in the desert! Just the stars to lead the way.

Our Berber man showed us to the tent once we arrived. Well, if you can call it a tent. Two bits of old blanket sewn together! An inch-thick matress, only one bed sheet each and a blanket that looked/smelt like it had been dragged around the desert for hundreds of years. The only other thing was a lantern. Another thing they don't have in the middle of nowhere are toilets! Having not been for days I thought it very timely the camel had moved my slougish bowel into movement. What's a lady to do when it's pitch black and the very lantern that, not only illuminates the way to a quiet spot, also spotlights your very person too.

We sat in our tent wondering if that was it for the night when in came our funny little Berber man delighted us with mint tea, then sat down with us - we took tea together. We enquired if he spoke English - "no" came the reply. He asked if had any French. Well, the only French I knew came from an Eddie Izzard DVD. So I said "Le sange est sur la table"! At this he rolled around the ground laughing. Showing us that, in fact, ALL his teeth were black!

Then we played shadow animals with our hands on the wall of the tent. He went off again and this time came back with a piping hot tagine. We thought this was the end of our night until he came and dragged us over to the hospitality tent. All the Berber men entertained us (and the assembled French travellers). Once again our French counterparts ignored us and went to bed early leaving us making merry with the entertainers. Janet was given bongo drums and I was led to the dance area. I giggled as we spun around like whirling dervishes! Time for bed and there are bugs everywhere in the desert - so getting off to sleep was difficult. Just as I was dozing off their was a tapping noise. It got quicker and quicker. As we were about to lrave the tent screaming, we realised it was the rain. Soon it soaked into the tent fabric the aroma of, what can only be described as, dirty dog filled our nostrils. What a stench. 

How we laughed before we started to doze off. This was soon interrrupted as a wild dog was running around the camp barking at a fearsome rate. Thanks to that dog (and a desire to kill it) we would have missed the shooting stars. The final treat was to get up early and see an amazing sunrise. Not that day! There wasn't one!

...once back in Marrakech we went to the garden of Yves St Laurent - le Jardin de Majorelle.

Yves Saint Laurent so loved the garden he restored with Pierre Berge here in Marrakech that he requested that his ashed be scattered there when he died. Walking through the Jardin de Majorelle, with its intense flashes of Yves Klein blue, otherworldly cacti, succulents and bamboo groves, its easy to understand how the garden became his passion.

Although the gardens are most closely connected with YSL, they are named for their creator, the painter Jacques Majorelle, who settled in Marrakech in 1916, and acquired the land which would become the Majorelle garden.
In 1947 Jacques Majorelle opened the garden to the public, but following a car accident, he returned to France, where he died in 1962. in 1980 Pierre Bergé and Yves Saint Laurent purchased the overgrown garden and began the lengthy — and expensive — process of restoration.
The gardens are easy to visit from both the Medina and Gueliz. Our petit taxi cost 30 dirhams (£2.15) from the Khoutoubia Mosque and 60d to get back (captive audience). Entrance is 25d. It doesn’t take long to walk around the gardens, but we spent quite some time sitting on benches and just looking and taking pictures.
There is a pretty courtyard café, which serves simple sandwiches & salads, and a lovely shop, selling very covetable, very chic  and very expensive gifts —  jewellery exclusive to the Jardin, and Liberty print babouches and kaftans.
Outside the gates is another great café-restaurant, and a series of design stores and a perfumerie, all selling Moroccan-made products with a 21st century twist, all of which are worth a look.

We watched the sunset at Café de France tourist-trap panoramique restaurant on the Djemaa El Fna (the square).

...as we head around Marrakech there are constant contradictions.

The rest of the day involved history, at the El Badi Palace remains, with resident storks in their nests),

I’m obssessed with tassels and spent an age at a passementerie specialist.

Loved the souk (tried to avoiding buying but wish I'd bought the pink slippers),

...we visited the most famous luxury hotel in Marrakech is La Mamounia which Winston Churchill described as "the most beautiful place in the world" at sunset for a few drinks. Since then it was been recently refurbished and features in the Sex and the City 2 movie.

You see, as most Morrocans are Muslim - they do not drink. However, after our ardous trip to the mountains and desert - we were ready for a few! 

Worn out by, poking around tiny hole-in-the-wall shops, in the souk, looking for wooden letter racks, soft leather slippers, yet more passementerie and pretty gold etched tea glasses, we headed to an authentic cuisine restaurant. I had pidgeon pie, complete with all the bones - yuk! We lounged on the embroidered cushions, luxuriating in our well-fed bubble, a man with a wildly swinging tasselled hat pulled us up to dance. Oh joy! Then we took a life-threatening petit taxi back to our rather more welcoming riad.

We met up with Mark a MUA & hairdresser friend who was working on the 'Alexander The Great' movie, then next night. We enjoyed a meal and the belly dancing.

Lot's of Moroccans speak French and almost all the tourists are wholly French. Why are French tourists so effortlessly chic and sexy, and English ones so rumpled and unappealing? At least, we have manners and are charming.