Marrakech Express - 30 December 2006

Looking at the world through the sunset in your eyes
Travelling the train through clear Moroccan skies
Ducks and pigs and chickens call
Animal carpet wall to wall
American ladies five-foot tall in blue

Sweeping cobwebs from the edges of my mind
Had to get away to see what we could find
Hope the days that lie ahead
Bring us back to where they've led
Listen not to what's been said to you

Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
They're taking me to Marrakech
All aboard the train, all aboard the train

I've been saving all my money just to take you there
I smell the garden in your hair

Take the train from Casablanca going south
Blowing smoke rings from the corners of my mouth
Coloured cottons hang in the air
Charming cobras in the square
Striped djellebas we can wear at home
Well, let me hear you now

Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
They're taking me to Marrakech

Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
They're taking me to Marrakech
All on board the train, all on board the train
All on board

Crosby Stills & Nash

And so it was time to return to the cold and rain of London.

"Had to get away to see what we could find" - 29 December 2006

"Sweeping cobwebs from the edges of my mind

Had to get away to see what we could find"

Our second early start took us west to the coast to visit Essaouira. En route we stopped to see the production of argan oil. The Argan trees only grow in this area of Morocco and in Mexico. Goats climb the trees and eat the fruit, spitting out the nuts. Women collect these reject stones as well as shaking the trees to get more nuts, split them to get the bitter almond-like kernel. At that point, they are ground for cosmetic oil or roast then ground to make cooking oil. From 100kg of the fruit – only harvested once the fruit has shrivelled and lost most of the moisture, they achieve 1 litre of oil. However, nothing is wasted: by-products include animal feed and fuel for fires.

Essaouira was designed by a French architect, in 1765, at the request of Sultan Sidi Mohammed, ben Abdallah. Before the town was built a plan was displayed and the name is derived from the local language for ‘look at the picture’. The ‘new’ town was built behind the Portuguese fort of Mogador and as a planned town it is well laid out with wide main avenues running in ‘cross’ arrangement. Behind the shopping area, the normal narrow maze of streets takes over.










Whereas Marrakech is red, Essaouira is predominately white with blue trim. This theme carries over into the port, where the small boats are all blue as are the taxis bicycles and hand carts.

Whether being on the coast, with a beautiful beach nearby was the reason or not, we really enjoyed the atmosphere of the town, which seems very relaxed and friendly, with a lot less ‘hard-sell’ from the vendors.

Market day at Thursday Village - 28 December 2006

Our final, and most relaxed, excursion into the Atlas Mountains was the trip up the Ourika Valley. This very attractive valley, with villages at regular intervals along the river, was the site of devastation in 1991 when a flash flood killed 200 and wiped out many houses and villages built in the riverbed. Evidence of the damage is still visible with collapsed buildings dotted up the valley.

We visited another Berber house, which although built right on the river had escaped the flood. Unusually it had a internal, river-powered, mill. This gave another interesting glimpse into the lifestyle of the local Berber people in the way that they extend their houses as each new generation gets married.

We also had the opportunity to visit the local weekly market. The weekly markets are the centre of village life as all the people from the surrounding villages meet at their central village to barter goods at the market, visit the barber, get their post (and have it read by the postman as the illiteracy rates in the countryside are very high), visit the hospital, get married or divorced. It all happens on the one day per week and the village takes its name from the market day, so we visited ‘Thursday Village’. The markets are only attended by the men who have to do all the buying for the household. (The wives in our party were not impressed with that concept having witnessed the purchasing efforts of their respectives.) As well as clothing and household items, there was plenty of meat and produce on sale although I am not sure I would have been happy to partake of any of it.

"Travelling the [bus] through clear Moroccan skies" - 27 December 2006

A long drive required a very early start for the bus journey over the Tichka Pass in the High Atlas Mountains to Ouarzazate. At 2260m above sea level, this is apparently the second highest road pass in Africa. The road up and over the pass is a stunning drive as it climbs switchback style for the last few hundred metres following the route used by camel caravans in years gone by.

Ouarzazate is a fairly new city built around the Pashir’s Kasbah and is now primarily devoted to film production. There are a number of studios and the guide rattled off the names of many movies that had been shot in and around the town.

While in Ouarzazate we toured the Kasbah, which overlooked a studio with what appeared to be a graveyard for disused movie props.

Although it was a long day and a long time sitting in the bus, the scenery was spectacular with the rugged mountains and earth coloured Berber villages.

The week that we were in Morocco was the week leading up to Eid al-Adha, the Festival of Sacrifice where Muslims kill a sheep to remember the provision, by God, of a sheep for Abraham to use when God tested Abraham’s faith with the command to sacrifice his only son, Isaac.

So, everywhere we went, sheep trading was in full swing. However, having purchased the requisite sheep (one per wife) one had to get the beast home. The modes of transport we spotted were: On pushbike, moped, motorbike, on the back of a donkey; in the donkey saddle bags – one sheep each side; on top of cars, trucks, utilities, vans; in handcarts; and even in a wheelbarrow.

Asni Valley - 26 December 2006

We took a four-wheel drive tour up the Asni Valley to the Berber village of Imlil. On the way we experienced the traditional Berber tea ceremony. This is preformed with great flourish by the head of the household. A handful of green tea, a huge bunch or fresh mint and a very large lump of sugar went into each pot. The pots were heated to re-boil the water and then it was poured, from a great height, into the tiny glasses.

Before lunch, we went, off-road, above the snowline to the pass at the head of the valley, 7500ft. The area is picturesque, but poor, tourism must help the local economy considerably.

The countryside is a strange mix of age-old farming techniques and modern communications as cellphones and satellite dishes are everywhere. Even way up this remote valley, there was cellphone coverage - the UK could learn a thing or two.

"Coloured cottons hang in the air" - 25 December 2006

“Ducks and pigs and chickens call
Animal carpet wall to wall”

“Coloured cottons hang in the air
Charming cobras in the square”



We spent the morning finding our own way around the Souks, after a photo shoot at the highest mosque in Marrakech.

The afternoon was an organised guided tour around the Souks. The area is so extensive that we saw a completely different set of vendors. The souks are an amazingly varied and colourful area that was originally separated into various craft areas. Now the blacksmiths are the only craft to have retained their own area.


In the evenings the main Square of the Medina comes alive: there are snake charmers, story tellers, acrobats, performers in colourful costumes, medicine men, fruit and juice sellers and open air restaurants that spring up in the centre. The souks, too, are even more mysterious and seem more convoluted at night.

In spite of being very crowded with people jostling and sellers imploring passers-by to examine their wares, there is still room to drive a vehicle through the melee.

Introduction to Marrakech - 24 December 2006

The first tour organized by Voyages Jules Verne was an Introduction to Marrakech. This took in the highlights of the Medina (the old city) with a visit to the Palais de la Bahia, the Marjorelle Gardens, the Saadian Tombs and a museum. After lunch we were treated to a horse drawn carriage ride around the outside of the Medina walls, all in all a full and interesting day.

The small section of the Bahia Palace that was not looted by a subsequent ruler is slowly being restored and has wonderful mosaic tiling, carved stucco, beautiful painted ceilings and cedar carvings.

The Saadian Tombs are three mausoleums that contain the bodies of the Rulers, their children, their wives and, in the courtyard between them, the favoured servants. The interesting fact is that not a single grave has a name or any other identifying mark: the theory being that in death all are equal.

The Majorelle Gardens are the work of a French ex-pat, now owned by YSL, and are totally non-moroccan, a beautiful green oasis in the bustling city with an amazing collection of cactii. The blue paint colour used extensively throughout the Gardens is now called Majorelle Blue.

"They're taking me to Marrakech" - 23 December 2006

“Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakech Express
They're taking me to Marrakech
All aboard the train”
Little did we know when we were singing this in the 60’s that one day we would be riding the Marrakech express, only it was a plane not a train. However, a train may well have been quicker. We were flying GB Airways (part of BA) and between them and BAA, the airport owners, they had created a total foul up of the boarding process.

London had been fog bound for a week and many travellers had been stranded but the fog had lifted enough for flights to be leaving on schedule.

We arrived at the North Terminal via the sky-train and headed for Zone F as indicated by the information boards. As we approached Zone F we found our way blocked by a queue with helpful queuers telling us that we had to return the way we had just come, go outside the building and join the queue from there, and that it had taken them 40 minutes to get back inside the building.

It was a truly amazing piece of bad planning. One would expect that an airline would know how many people they were planning to process at any given time, after all they had sold the tickets, and to put on enough staff to cope with the check-in numbers.

So after arriving at 10:30 for a 14:15 flight we filled in the entire time standing in queues.In spite of it all we arrived safely in Marrakech and booked into the Moroccan House Hotel, a smallish hotel delightfully decorated throughout in Moroccan tiling and paintwork.