Road Trip: Morocco

Acknowledging the fact that in general we are more of a rural-loving family rather than a city-thriving group we really wanted to optimize our time in the remote areas of Morocco between the must-visit cities of Fez and Marrakech.  A tour was really out of the question, price and freedom wise, and a good friend had informed us that he had no problem renting a car and driving himself when he visited a few year prior.  So we opted to rent a car in Fez ($34/day) and take 2 weeks to explore before dropping it off upon entering Marrakech.  I did read something to the effect that Morocco has one of the highest rates of car accidents in the world but really is it any more dangerous for Kiko to be driving than a hired driver?  At least with Kiko driving, we were the ones deciding the speed and risks we were willing to take when passing.  

Armed with the recommended Michelin map of Morocco and our handy google maps on our phones we headed south out of Fez towards the Sahara.  After a little adjustment as far as timing of pedestrians, bikers, and mules crossing the road, and getting accustomed to the fact that drivers tend to pass at times that seem totally inopportune, Kiko was soon driving with confidence.  We loved the freedom and the changing landscapes were truly breathtaking. 

One of the secrets to making our long car rides enjoyable for all, has been books on tape.  Funny right?, but it keeps us entertained and all eyes available to check out the ever changing scenes out the windows.  The best is when we are able to access free downloads from our home library, which pertain to our current travel.  We learned about the life of Da Vinci in Italy, and listened to Arabian Nights in Morocco.  

We split up the 7 1/2 hr drive down to Merzouga, near the Algerian border, into two days so that we could arrive early enough to be able to catch our camel ride to our arranged camp in the desert.  

A rest stop in the Cedar Forests to check out the Barbary Apes.

This part of our trip had been much anticipated.  Even though it was a week early, a camel trek in the Sahara was Yoda’s 7th birthday present.  Who is going to forget that birthday? 

There are a lot of desert camel tours available from Merzouga but I did my research online and found the best for our price range.  Ali and Sara’s Desert Palace is run by a super friendly English woman and her Berber husband.  What a team, with her attention to detail and service and his knowledge of the desert environment they can’t be beat.    It is a small and personable operation.  I was thrilled upon our arrival to meet Sara after exchanging emails the previous week.  A sand storm had just passed, actually while we were driving, so we enjoyed some Moroccan mint tea and discussed whether the weather would allow us to set off on the 1.5hr long camel trek to camp.  

The end of the sand storm.

Luckily the wind and rain died down because the kids were pumped to get going.  With our turbans wrapped, we set off, just the four of us and a “blue man”, named after the indigo turban traditionally worn by the nomadic men of the Sahara, leading the camels.  

I recalled talking as a family while still on Kauai about where we would spend each person’s birthday around the world and to actually be on a camel in the Sahara was quite unreal. 

Birthday boy, getting comfortable.

We passed some very simple camps and I heard the kids say, “Hope that’s not our camp.”.  Although I replied, “Hey guys, we’re here for the desert experience, not the camp,”  in my mind I was in agreement with them.  The camps we passed just didn’t look very welcoming and we were signed up for a 2 night stay. The ride was beautiful as we got deeper into the desert.  The color of the sand is a remarkable golden pink. 

As expected, camel aren’t that comfortable to ride on. The camels of Northern Africa have one hump and the saddle, comprised of a pile of blankets, goes on top of the single mound.  About an hour in Yoda asked, How long did they say it would take?” Classic.  I don’t think he could hack the 52 day trip to Timbuktu.

Upon arrival the kids told me multiple times how great I did choosing camps, ah..such welcomed words to the ears of the continual planner of this trip.   Our desert camp was somehow the perfect mix of comfort (each tent had a designated spotlessly clean bathroom with hot water shower!) and simple desert style, with common area tents piled with pillows and hammocks scattered around camp, which enhanced the whole experience.

Soon after arrival, the jaw dropping scene of the camels being led away to relax, and the rainbow shooting out of the desert convinced me that I was dreaming.  

We loved every minute in the desert.  While I enjoyed the various relaxing areas reading a book, The Story Teller of Marrakech, the kids borrowed some simple sand boards and hit the dunes.  

The dinners were 3 course affairs illustrating the renowned Moroccan hospitality.  It is surprisingly cold in the desert in November so, as we were the only guests the the first night, we ate in a beautiful tent all to ourselves.  We were treated to some homegrown desert music afterwards.    When the kids got tired we walked to our tents, the sky filled with stars.  Surprisingly warm, the two person tents were outfitted with real beds toped with comfortable sheets and duvets.  It was a great treat for the kids to have their own tent. 

In the morning we got up at 6 am to be sure to catch the sunrise over the dunes.  It was chilly but the tea and coffee served up at our table on the dune sure helped.  The morning light was spectacular. 

After breakfast we got ready for a 1/2 day 4x4 tour with Ali.  We had the opportunity to visit nomadic Berbers (the original inhabitants of Morocco) living in tents and got a glimpse of their life without many modern comforts. Their goats and chickens wandered around their camp freely.  There was a special mud oven to cook the bread, a staple food in Morocco, and the tea was made over a fire.  It was cold and I had a hard time imagining their daily life.  I am not that tough.  Ali grew up in a similar family in which he was in charge of the goat herd and hadn't attended school.  

The highlight of the tour was just stopping in the middle of the desert and looking for fossils.

Ali knew the spot well from his childhood and quickly discovered a handful of ammonites in a few seconds.  It took a little bit to get an eye for it but eventually we were all able to see the fossils amongst the plain rocks.  “Ohs” and “Ahs" were cried out across the open desert as one of us would find something good.  We didn’t unearth the huge ones like those sold in the local shops, which more often then not are “enhanced” or just plane fake. But there is something about having been able to find these ourselves at the foot of the sahara that make them very special. 

A few of Zuki's finds. Her hands still have the henna from Fez.

The fossils and minerals sold on the side of the road

We also stopped in and got a private concert of Gnaoua music, which is a type of Sufi music played by the decedents of slaves brought across the Sahara..  This troupe also tours in Europe.  I found it hypnotic, and it is even said if it is played properly it can induce a trance like state, which some believe can get you closer to Allah.   The kids had never heard anything like it’s irregular rhythms and looked more stunned then in any "trance like state of mystical ecstasy." 

Finishing up our day we stopped by Sara and Ali’s home where they live with his mom and the unmarried sisters.  Ali’s family use to be nomadic but this was their first “house” and his family was still getting use to it.  We sat on pillows around a low table and enjoyed the traditional welcoming mint tea while chatting with Sara, who is a wealth of information about life in the village.   The fact that she came from a society very similar to ours but is now truly immersed in a culture so different on so many levels, was intriguing.  

The second night another couple joined us at the camp.  The weather cleared, allowing us to eat at tables under the stars.  The berber music was even more wonderful the second night as we circled around the open fire.  That night will remain in my mind as a moment of perfection, when everything just clicked and I was mindful enough to savor it. Yoda had joined the band seamlessly while Zuki, at one of the nearby tables, excitedly showed her fossil finds by headlight to Sara, who truly shared her enthusiasm.  I was part of the group around the fire but not engaged in conversation or making music, just warmed by the fire and the rhythm, enjoying the unique feeling of solitude while not being alone.  The true magnitude of our trip hit me.  Moments like that are the highs that soar in the opposite direction of the travel lows that I sometime write about.    

After another wonderful breakfast on the second morning we rode the camels back to the town, 

Zuki bonding.

where we chose to spend one night in a nearby hotel. We had had plans to go explore the local weekly market but upon our arrival, all of us felt lazy and we simply enjoyed the afternoon in the small hotel.  

The next morning we packed up and got ready for another 5 or so hour drive to Dades Gorge.  Driving in Morocco is never boring. 

We loved passing through all the little towns and the breathtaking ever changing scenery.  Dades Gorge,  often referred to as The Route of a Thousand Kasbahs, is on a lot of “must see” lists with most people just swinging  by for an afternoon or a quick night between Marrakech and the desert.  Since as a family we don’t function very well with one night stays, with all the unpacking, packing, and not much time for exploration in between, we opted to stay 3 nights to get in a little hiking and poking around.  There are a lot of accommodations in the gorge and it was hard to choose online but the one I picked seemed meant to be. On the first afternoon we had ordered lunch and were waiting on the patio when these two boys about our kids age came hoping up…speaking English.  I didn’t even think first, I just asked,  “You speak English? Where are you from?”  “Texas”, came a cheerful reply.   We exchanged a little info and then they bounded away.  I looked quickly between Zuki and Yoda…”They speak English, maybe they are staying here!”  The buzz between us all was as if we had just met someone famous.  I was just as excited as the kids.   It had been a few weeks maybe even months since we had even heard kids speaking English.  

The two boys came bouncing back up with their parents and all of us were smiles.  Info was exchanged at rapid fire pace between parents as the kids disappeared off together to play.  Turns out they are traveling around the world for a year or possibly more in the opposite direction as us; we were heading toward Asia while there next destination was South America.  We ate lunch all together and then ended up joining them for a little hike across the street with their guide. It was a whirlwind and the kids were crestfallen once they left, as they had only stopped in for lunch and had accommodations arranged further along.   Wow, what a great coincidence.  The experience made us realize that we would like to seek out more such exchanges with other traveling families.  

We enjoyed our relaxed days in Dades area, taking scenic drives and going on little hikes.  

A Kashbah

The famous switch backs of Dades Gorge.

Our drive to our next much-anticipated accommodations was only an hour away, a pleasant change to the 4-5 hours we had grown accustomed to.  We had rented another home on the global vacation rental website, www.airbnb.com; this time a 3 bedroom house in the palm grove of Skoura, where we would celebrate Yoda’s actual 7th birthday.  We didn’t quite know what to expect as there weren’t many pictures online but what was shown could be described as “rustic chic Moroccan oasis style.”  The owner upon hearing our story offered us a reduced price and we were able to rent it for a luxurious six nights.  

The oasis of Skoura is breathtaking after crossing such arid lands.  The large palm grove goes on and on.  We followed the directions given to us by the owner…pass a kasbah hotel, cross a dry river bed, up a little hill, where we wait by the mosque, after calling the phone number of Mohammad.  I am always so thankful when these directions to the homes/apartments work out.  Mohammad, who speaks English and lives in Marrakech, sent his dad, who speaks Arabic (and probably a few other languages but not English) to met us and show us the house.  We exchanged “salem”  greetings and he opened up the house as the kids ran in to choose their rooms.  The house was beautifully simple and extremely comfortable.  The view out the front was otherworldly, as the layers of desert, palmery, mountains, and snow, created a beautiful scene. 

View of the palm grove from our front porch.

As I stood on the patio the call to prayer began, first from one mosque and then from another in the opposite direction a few seconds later.  Wow, I got chicken skin and felt so lucky to be in such a very unique place.  

Somehow, with super slow internet, no pool, and no TV, the kids still  repeatedly thanked me for a great “birthday house”.  Maybe the same serenity that appealed to me also appealed to them?  I didn’t want to question it too much; it just put a smile on my face.  

There were no restaurants nearby so we had to stock up the house with everything.  The markets in Morocoo are a wonderful experience.  Because the farms have remained small scale almost all produce is organic here in Morocco and the meat naturally free-range.  Although tourists pass through Skoura, I got the impression not many stock up on food so we weren’t over-charged for items as sometimes happens in areas more accustomed to foreigners.  The people watching was a delight as we walked around looking for whatever we fancied to eat. 

Purchasing meat was quite an experience as well.  We actually chose our chicken live and the butcher went in the back to prepare it for us.  He definitely chuckled a little when I made hand motions of plucking to ensure that the de-feathering was included the in the $4.50 price.  The chicken was still warm when we brought it home.  The steak was simply carved off the large hanging slab by the butcher depending on what cut you asked for.  We don’t know French or Arabic so we stuck with “beefsteak”, which got us a nice cut of meat.  They even put it through a grinder right there if you wanted ground beef.  

Without many structured activities for tourists, we puttered here and there and the days in Skoura flew by.  We spent some time just walking in the palm grove and admiring the daily oasis life.  Groups of people would be working together hitting down and collecting the olives.  There were men plowing the fields with donkeys and kids entertaining themselves as their parents worked.  The intricate irrigation system was both esthetically beautiful as well as an incredible bit of engineering.

We visited some nearby beautiful Kasbahs (fortified villages made of mud-clay pise, at least in part dating back to the 17th & 18th century and said to be an indigenous Berber development) Even though they dot the entire southern area of Morocco they continued to amaze me.  

Occasionally the local caretakers would come by the house to check on us. Although we did not share a common language among us, somehow we communicated, which never ceases to amaze me.  The wife, Aisha, would be one big smile and come and pat or squeeze the kids a little every visit.  In the late afternoon, the husband would come by and light us a glorious fire in our living room.    

On the last full day we celebrated Yoda’s birthday.  The kids have come to understand that birthdays on this trip are not about physical presents (as we can’t carry much with us) but more about the experiences we create.  For weeks leading up to his birthday, Yoda continually went over with us how his day was going to play out.  He would wake up and their would be decorations and cards that we would have all secretly made for him.  We would eat breakfast and then open his presents and play with them.  Then after lunch there would be cake and for dinner there would be pasta. The newest detail included in the rather descriptive summary was added upon the discovery that there was a stereo and a pile of CD’s at the house.  There was also to be a dance party.

Ok well, that all seemed pretty clear so we followed his wishes to the best of our ability with what was available.  Thank goodness we had had the foresight to purchase a boxed gluten free cake mix on our last day in Spain, as finding any ingredients to make a gluten free cake from scratch in Morocco would have been very difficult.   We had also found a toy store and purchased a few small toys to be wrapped up as Yoda had really been missing having little characters with which to play out scenes with like he use to at home.  Decorations were proving hard to come by and we were beginning to think we would need to string up toilet paper but luckily on one of the last days Zuki spotted a bag of balloons and we stealthy purchased them.  

Yoda was truly surprised with the decorations and the day played out as he had hoped.  We enjoyed the lovely cake and the pasta, (some rice noodles we had found a a little shop by chance) and the dance party, which consisted of just the four of us showing our moves, which was hysterical.  The Skoura house will forever be referred to as ,“Yoda’s birthday house.”  

The day of our planned departure the weather had turned dark and cold.  We were already dreading leaving and the gloom did not help.  I had been a little apprehensive about the drive to Marrakech, knowing that it entailed a high mountain pass with major switch backs and is listed on the “dangerous roads” website.  There was also the possibility that it could be closed due to snow or still yet not closed and slippery with snow.   We were advised it is normally a 5 hour drive.  We left at 8:30 to ensure we had enough time for a break or two and still make our 3pm pickup up at the Avis car return.

It was raining the entire time but not like “downpour kauai style”, just continual moderate rain.  The clouds were actually black. It seemed cold enough for it to be snowing up in the mountains. 

We asked along the route the best we could, even pulling out our “point it” travel book that has everything you could ever want to discuss in picture form to help with language barriers.  The men at the fruit stand insisted no snow as we pointed to the picture of snow falling.  “Route ok?”  “Oui, Oui” but it was the hand motion that had me worried,  as he held out his hand flat and oscillated it back and forth.  I know hand motions vary wildly by culture but for me that clearly meant, “kinda ok.”    We proceeded but not with confidence.   Soon after a truck coming the other way stopped  in the middle of the road and a man got out to talk to us.  We eagerly looked at him for information but when he saw we were foreigners and we didn’t speak his language he politely backed away, bowing in apology.  “Wait!  Route to Marrakech ok?”, but we received no answer.   Ok well that sure didn’t help. 

We proceeded with caution.  In a few minutes we had an idea what the man had wanted.  There was a pretty horrible accident around the bend.  Two trucks had collided smashing a minivan in the middle.  There was a man with blood on his face.  Maybe the truck driver had wanted help from us in some way but by the time we had arrived there was a group gathered.  

We started noting that there was some recent rock fall along the road and in some areas there was a thin layer of water across the road created from the water cascading down the hillsides around us.  It was beautiful and I was sure, a bit unusual, because none of the many photos of the area that I had seen had shown the dozens of waterfalls ever present around us. 

It became more clear how unusual the weather was as we saw groups of local men gathered around the rivers that had turned into chocolate brown gushers.

We came upon one area where the road had a few inches of water running across it.  We stopped and rolled down our window to ask one of the gathered men “Route to Marrakech ok?”  “Oui, Oui.” with a smile was the response.  Other similar cars were driving across the water towards us so we proceeded. We offered the iPads to the kids in an effort to advert their attention from our situation.  I mentioned the idea to Kiko that if it got too bad we could stop and stay the night at a hotel.  Googles maps on my iphone told me where we were but didn’t have 3G to look up any news or info.  

We crossed a few more flooded areas but nothing we weren’t positive we could get through. We noted areas of the road washed away from the adjacent river undermining it.  Things seemed pretty bad but we hadn’t seen any where to safely stop for the night.  There were not any real towns up there and we couldn’t remember the last hotel or restaurant we had seen. 

Then we saw the low lying bridge ahead with vehicles stopped on either side of it.  Unlike the previous areas we had already passed though, this water was actually rushing with considerable force across the road over a 40’ stretch.  We pulled over and watched it as well.  Sometimes the water seemed deeper and stronger, sometimes large branches came crashing past.  We watched with interest as some vehicles choose to cross, buses, trucks and of the most interest to us, little cars about our size.  The water came up to the bottom of the door on the cars.  I worried about both the depth of the water with the functioning of the engine but mostly about the force of the water sweeping us away.

We waited.   We talked as best we could with the other people waiting.   We watched.  We had discussions that we never wanted to have; like whether it is safer to have the windows open and seat belts unlatched when driving across water that has the potential to sweep the car into the rushing river.  The idea of simply turning back wasn't an option as we were sure the areas we had already crossed had become significantly worse.  But we didn’t know what lay ahead of us.  God I wanted Google on my phone to be working.  I wanted to talk to my dad for advice.

Zuki was fully aware of the situation and was scared and full of questions. My only response was to sooth her, “we aren’t going to do anything to put ourselves in danger,” but I was not sure of the actual safest option.  Finally after waiting for about 1/2 hour and watching a number of small cars drive safely through we just decided we would make it and we went for it.  We drove exactly where the other cars had driven and I held my breath and actually prayed.  When we crossed to dry land Kiko offered a high five, which I half heartedly preformed, as tears brimmed my eyes.  Oh Thank God. 

Although there were no more flooded road crossings, the rest of the drive continued to be nerve racking and we saw another two accidents, one in which involved numerous motorcycles with multiple unmoving people laying on the street.  At one point I heard Zuki say from the back, “oh this is so scary!” And I thought, "oh gosh, this is too much for her", but when I looked back at her I was uncharacteristically relived to see that she was referring to her game on her device rather then our immediate surroundings.  

The infamous Tizi n’ Tichka pass which the guide book described as “pulse-racing series of switchbacks” seemed like nothing compared to the stress-inducing driving we had already been through.  Finally when we were 1/2 hour from Marrakech we allowed ourselves to stop for a very late lunch.  We both agreed we were thrilled that that was our last day, rather then our first, of our car rental in Morocco. 

It wasn’t until a day later that we started to see the coverage on TV and internet news, 

33 had died, another 12 people were missing,

and over 200 rescues made....

and we realized just how truly lucky we had been.