Ouarzazate (again), Morocco

Another spectacular climb, on another narrow winding road, up and out of the Draa Valley, and then down into dusty Ouarzazate.  We got here shortly after noon, got a decent clean hotel with a tv, a heater and lots and lots of hot water.  Headed out to our ‘favourite’ restaurant for another salad nicoise.  Thought about hitting the bank up again but decided not to push our luck.  So we strolled over to the kasbah for a little ‘window shopping.’  Although we did buy a couple of mini-tagines as souvenirs, we tired of the constant harassment by shop-keepers who literally followed us down the street trying to convince us to buy something we ‘looked at,’ but didn’t want, and demanding to know what our ‘last price’ for it would be.  All a little wearing, and in the end doesn’t serve their purpose when people like us just give up and go back to their hotel.  In any event, a fierce dust storm suddenly blew up, so we had another reason to back to the hotel, and the shop-keepers had a reason to retreat back into their shops.

 

Maybe as a result of recent experiences and events, I penned these thoughts this evening.

 

Moroccan Mirages

 

Single sheets on double beds

Crispy white stretched tight and clean

Within an hour a crumpled mess

In the centre of the bed

Now soiled mattresses against bare skin 

We are exposed to who knows what.

 

Fancy fluted cookies and cakes

Prettily arranged on decorative plates and platters

With no flavour, not even sweet

Dry mealy mouthfuls in desperate need of

Gallons of sugar sweet mint tea

To wash them down desert-parched gullets.

 

Beautifully tiled bathrooms

Squeaky clean and sparkling

But no hot water or no water at all

Or just a trickle of something brown and foul

Or if water no partitions or even a curtain

To prevent it from soaking everything

And nowhere to hang towels or clothes

And drains that don’t drain

So great pools of water collect

And flood the lovely tiled floor.



Next (and last) stop: Marrakesh...



Location: Ouarzazate 45000, Morocco

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Essaouira and the Had Draa Camel Market, Morocco

Image
Ahhh, Essaouira.  Not raining, considerably warmer, and a lot less hectic.  Essaouira is a picturesque old port town.  Most of its white-washed buildings sport freshly painted blue doors and shutters.  But the real attraction for us, as coasters, were the colourful fishing boats in the harbour.  A photographer’s dream. Hardly surprising, Essaouira had a great fish market.  I couldn't identify many of the fish, but they all looked very fresh, quite probably caught that morning in the early hours before daybreak.  The sellers, like fish-sellers everywhere, were experts at skinning and filleting, wielding their knives with economy and precision, ensuring very little waste.   Just south of Essaouira, in Had Draa, another photographer’s dream: a popular Sunday market where goats, sheep, donkeys and camels are traded.  As the self-proclaimed and now 30 plus years uncontested ‘Camel Queen,’ this was a must-do attraction...
Read more

Paradise Valley and A Real Moroccan Tagine

Image
We stop long enough in Agadir to arrange for another week’s rental of the car, and head up the coast to Awrir, where we head east, into Paradise Valley.     We’re on a mission to find to D’s old camping spot, where he and a group of hippies from all over the world – Canada, America, Australia, Europe – hung out for weeks at a time.     He’s trying to remember the road, the villages, where he traveled so long ago.     It’s a lovely valley, full of palms, and very quiet.       We are the only guests in a hotel with two swimming pools, both empty.    Our hosts were most attentive.     They made us a fabulous Moroccan tagine dish, served with great elan.     I love the way Moroccans pour tea, as many Indian people do, holding the teapot much higher than the glass, so as to aerate the tea.  I’m always amazed at how good their aim is; when I try it, more tea ends up on the table than in the glass.  After...
Read more

Merzouga, Morocco

Image
It was snowing when we left Dades Gorge.     Regardless of that minor inconvenience (we are Canadian, so what’s a little snow), we decided we’d head up into the Todra Gorge.     That meant going directly east to Tinghir and then north into the gorge.     Todra is much narrower, rougher, rockier, and more dramatic than Dades.     The road twists and turns through     somewhat menacing, and very high vertical rock walls that defied the penetration of even the smallest shafts of light.     It was bitterly cold.     At the top of the gorge we came upon a very poor village, Tamtetoucht, where the ragged children reminded me of children I’d met in the Andes, with rough weather-reddened cheeks, chapped lips, bare feet, and beseeching eyes.     There are so many people in this world who lead such desperate lives, with no hope of anything better, no chance to improve their lot, and so little, really, to live for. ...
Read more