Enroute to the Atlantic fishing port of Essaouira, we passed even MORE olive plantations, and lots of grape arbors and orange groves, some with ingeniously constructed irrigation troughs, and often surrounded by stone walls. It was a long drive, with a break at one of the new (and rather sterile) petrol station and cafe complexes for a good cheese omelet. The drive made time for us to read reference articles, recheck facts, and pepper Aziz with questions.
We learned that as a tour guide, Aziz may not make a great base wage, but he does get to eat free all over Morocco. Also that people run and run their vehicles, patch and patch, and deconstruct the carcasses for other uses when absolutely nothing will make them run again. That accounts for little or no sign of dumped trashy piles of cars in the gullies and thickets. Roses seem to grow well in many areas, with no rust and no aphids. While there are some murals on walls, there is surprisingly little graffitti. Every city has its main boulevard named Mohammed V. Farm plot allotments in the community garden areas are based on need and family size; in addition, a family will be assigned plots in different fertility zones, rather than one getting stuck with all the sandy soil plots. People from beyond the core city also get plot allotments. Lucerne is plentifully grown. We also saw pomegranates, almond trees, artichokes.
We stopped at a women's cooperative where products are made from argan nuts. The argan tree, only found in two areas of the world, produces an oil prized for cosmetic and medical uses. It's an assembly line of sorts, from cracking the hard shell to extracting the inner kernel. Picking out the nuts' innards is painstaking, boring work, and the women showed me their worn and calloused fingers, sometimes bruised from hammer blows when cracking the outer shell, and told me of their aching shoulders from sitting long hours.
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In one small town, Driss halted the bus and leapt out the door to greet a policeman; it turned out the cop was his uncle.
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Essaouira was sunny and breezy, with full advantage being taken by holiday makers, parasailors, roller bladers, and strollers. The narrow entries into the old medina and local laws keep motor vehicles out; our luggage was loaded on carts for trundling to our hotel within the walls. The town boasts 15th century Portuguese fortifications and has been a prime tourist attraction, attracting its share of celebrities like Jimi Hendrix. Many restaurants were along the seafront. As I was still feeling dicky, I didn't participate much in the gastronomical delights.
Orson Welles stayed at a hotel just south of the town walls during the filming of his 1952 classic version of "Othello" which contains several memorable scenes shot in the labyrynthine streets and alleyways of the medina. There is a square still that carries Welles' name. Legend has it that during Welles' sojourn in the town he met Winston Churchill.
In most towns, at least one wall had these mysterious squares on a long wall. It turns out they are the spaces for candidates and political parties to post their platforms at election time. | 
Along the road between Essaouira to Marrakech was a fun fair, though it did not look open. |
For our last two nights, we were in Marrakech. Our hotel, the Hotel Islane, was ideally situated to reach the main sights, in particular the Djemaa el Fna Square with its daytime market stalls that really starts jumping at dusk -- out come the buskers: the cobra charmers, the acrobats, the drummers. Our local guide Abdu gave us a quick orientation to the winding alleys of the markets and took us to the Ben Yussef mosque, a medrahsah, and the main museum. The hotel was across the street from the Katoubah Mosque so it was a full experience of muezzin calls to prayer. Right around the corner was a super ice cream parlor--thriving and bustling in the warm weather. Mary (on her way to her turn with the gastric bugs) and I (pretty much recovered) hired a horse carriage to take us out to the Majorelle Gardens, owned since 1980 by Yves Saint Laurent. We had to wait a bit, while the farrier finished shoeing the carriage horse! And, by the way, the two of the photos below were taken by Luc Viator, not me--the ones of the screen and the blue fountain in the gardens.
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Despite the beauty of the lamps everywhere, the wiring continued to worry me a bit!
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The king was in town at the same time we were, which meant flags flying everywhere and unbelieveable traffic. During his stay, he celebrated Prophet Mohammed's birthday and gave a special presentation at the Katouba Mosque. Also during our stay, Marrakech's soccer team beat out Casablanca's which sent fans streaming jubilantly through the streets. Other parades--groups of women, groups of men, others a mixed collection of all ages--were on the move in the street below our hotel window right up until wee hours of the next morning.
Outside Marrakech, our 'farewell' group photo.
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Hassan, Aziz, and Driss--who took very good care of us! |
