We spent last night at the Guesthouse Yasmine in Merzouga, the only lodging in this area that’s right at the edge of the Sahara; it’s nestled among the dunes of Erg Chebbi, the largest sand dune in Morocco.  Unfortunately, we couldn’t fully appreciate our surroundings due to an unrelenting sandstorm that lasted well into the night.

I woke before dawn to a riot of bird song, and was drawn outside to see the sunrise.  Outside among the tall dunes that surround our guesthouse, there was a blissful calm with not a breath of wind.  The sand was a soft beige at first, then the sun crept above the horizon and ignited the dunes into brilliant shades of orange, pink  and crimson, their silhouettes superimposed behind one another, a constantly shifting and shimmering mirage of haunting beauty. 

A camel caravan returned from a morning outing, and Berber men in cobalt turbans and robes offered fossils for sale that they'd dug from remote dry mountains during the hot summer months.  

After checking out, we drove several miles back across the sand and rock hardpan to the town of Erfoud, stopping at a factory that processes rocks with fantastic fossils embedded within. A few miles further, in the town of Rissani, we found a very active souk (market), attended by locals and held just one day per week.  Many women here in this part of Morocco wear long gauzy black robes with colorful embroidery, which they pulled over their faces when they saw us approaching.

A small cluster of women patiently sat outside a darkened stall, waiting their turn to be treated by a healer, who was letting blood from the backs of two women’s necks.  This process is thought to heal a variety of ailments, including headache, stomach pains and arthritis.  He shaves a bit of hair at the napes of their necks, then draws the blood out using his mouth with a long thin brass tube. 

Many varieties of dates are for sale here, along with furniture, clothing, cookware, meat, rugs, fossils, beautiful Berber jewelry & decorative pieces.  We bought tooled metal perfume dispensers – used by Berbers to scent their homes just before guests arrive.  Our driver Tahar stopped at a butcher’s stall, where he ordered a “Madfouna” to be made for us, it’s a traditional specialty made only in this area, a stuffed pizza with almonds, egg, meat, olives.  He also ordered an extra one and a bag full of tripe, for the men he’ll be sharing a tent with this evening at our camp.

We almost bought a donkey this afternoon!  We'd come upon a boy sitting on his donkey and as Deborah walked over to stroke the animal, I snapped a photo.  The boy shook his hand at us and said “No photo!” but Tahar convinced him with a small tip.  After we took our photos, Tahar joked: “OK, great, now we’ve bought a donkey!” and began to lead it off.  At this point, the boy’s father suddenly appeared and angrily chased after Tahar, shouting in Berber because he thought we really were taking away the family donkey, an extremely valuable asset to the Berbers.  It took quite awhile for Tahar to explain and calm him down!

After lunch, we drove to the tiny remote Berber Village of Khemlia, where we were served mint tea and treated to a performance of traditional Gnaoua Trance Music and singing.   

Then we headed off road again into the dunes (this is not a route that tour buses can navigate!).  Now we’re really in the Sahara, red sand rising like peaking ocean waves ahead.  

We arrived at our bivouac camp, a cluster of peaked white tents with a larger dining tent at one end; the sand between them covered with big colorful Moroccan rugs.  Mint tea was served but the desert wind had begun to blow fiercely once again and sand was blowing in all directions (yes, just like in the movies!)  Nevertheless, we had a lovely dinner, prepared in tents hidden behind a tall dune and served by blue-clad Berbers, and were entertained by a group of Gnaoua trance musicians in white robes, drumming and plucking ancient string instruments and singing mesmerizing songs of their people.  I fell asleep to the sound of the wind luffing the walls of my tent and the soft hiss of blowing sand.

Today we drove through rolling green countryside past olive groves, grasses and wildflowers, to visit two cities near Fes:  Meknes, the smallest of Morocco’s four Imperial Cities and capital of Morocco in the 1600’s, and the extensive Roman ruins at the ancient site of Volubilis, claimed by Marcus Aurelius in AD 168.  

MEKNES

We entered Meknes through the grand triumphal arch called Bab Khemis, said to be the most beautiful of Morocco’s many arches.  It’s also most welcoming with its Arabic inscription proclaiming:  “I am the Happy Gate and I welcome all to pass, whether Muslim, Jew, or Christian.”

Meknes was founded by Sultan Moulay Ismail, a ruthless and powerful man descended from the Prophet Mohammed, who set the stage for modern Morocco by wrenching power from foreigners and rebellious Berber tribes.  He celebrated his first day in power by murdering all those who refused to submit to his control, yet he was also responsible for Morocco’s last golden age, building an enormous and extravagant palace complex in Meknes, along with many miles of city walls, monumental gates, arches, and kasbahs.  

Noted for his excesses, the sultan had a hundred wives and sired 867 children, widely considered to be the largest number of offspring attributed to one man in history.  

For his beloved 12,000 Arabian horses, he built an immense stable and granary building, which housed and fed all of them.  Massive stone walls, tiny windows, and an elaborate system of underground water channels kept the buildings cool in summer, while thousands of slaves stood at the ready to care for the horses’ every need.  We walked under high vaulted stone ceilings in the restored section, then emerged to see long rows of expansive stone archways and stable walls, now crumbling with time and open to the sky, all lined up in perfect geometric order, seeming to stretch to infinity in accordance with the sultan’s wishes for excess and splendor.

We also visited the sultan’s mausoleum.  His status as one of Morocco’s greatest rulers means that non-Muslims may enter the sanctuary, via a series of austere and peaceful courtyards meant to induce a quiet and humble attitude among visitors.  The shadowplay of light on ochre-colored walls and intricate tilework as we passed through traditional Moroccan archways created a stunning effect.  But the ambiance was less than respectful when we entered the inner courtyard, due to four giggling Moroccan woman taking cell phone photos of a young child who couldn’t keep his hands out of the fountain intended for ablations by those coming to worship.

Our Meknes guide “Atimath” was one of the few female guides we had in Morocco, and we learned a lot from her regarding what it’s like to be female in an Islamic country.  She first emphasized that things have come a long way in recent years, and to dispel any misconceptions, she said:  "Morocco is an Islamic country, not an Arabic country – and there’s a big difference.  But I dream for more rights for woman some day.”

Men are still allowed to have up to 4 wives (although now the first must give permission) and husbands have the right to control them.  Atimath told us about her college-educated sister who’d become engaged to a man who seemed to appreciate her for who she was but as soon as they were married, he demanded she quit her job and begin wearing a burka.  The only way she could have the marriage annulled was by paying a judge the equivalent of $7,000 US, which she did.  Atimath told us she herself has decided to not get married at all!

Many women here wear traditional "djellabas", loose fitting hooded garments that fall to the feet; this is especially true of older women and women outside the cities.  Among those that choose to wear Western attire, most still wear a head scarf.  Even teenage girls who wear skin-tight jeans and modern tops often still wear head scarfs, which are sometimes considered a fashion statement as much as a respect for tradition.

VOLUBILIS
 
Volubilis was a Roman settlement constructed atop an ancient Carthaginian city dating from the 3rd century B.C., and now represents some of the largest ancient ruins in Africa.  Once home to over 20,000 people, Volubilis was a central administrative city for this part of Africa, responsible for the production of grain in this fertile region and the export of goods to Rome. Volubilis also traded with Berber tribes for mutual benefits.

People continued to live in Volubilis for more than 1,000 years after the Romans left, and the city was only abandoned in the 18th century when it was plundered to provide building materials for Sultan Moulay Ismail's palaces and gates in nearby Meknes.  It was recognized by UNESCO in 1997 and is the best preserved archaeological site in Morocco.

This afternoon, we arrived in Fez. This is a fascinating city that extends back through 1,300 years of medieval history.  The old medina is called Fes-el-Bali, and was founded in 859 A.D.  Fez-el-Bali is the world’s largest car-free urban space and a UNESCO world heritage site. 

Being here is to journey back in time, to a place where narrow lanes were deliberately built “three donkeys wide” in a labyrinth of twists and turns to confuse invaders.  Wandering in this mystical place, you rub shoulders with djalaba-clad men and women going about their daily chores much as they have for millennia.  

Walking between these ancient exterior walls, It’s impossible to know what exists behind them, because they present a solid blank face to the outside.  There are no street signs and no way to get your bearings. The massive stucco walls up to four stories high rise steeply around you, and you catch only occasional glimpses of sky.   Sometimes the walls hide a crumbling unrestored family dwelling, other times the palatial home of a wealthy aristocratic family. 

Many are riads, traditional Moroccan houses or palaces with an inward-facing interior garden or courtyard.  They were originally built with tall impenetrable walls to shelter their occupants from the outside world and to afford privacy for women. 

We’re staying at the Riad Myra in the old medina, our home for the next five nights.  To get there, we walked down a narrow cobbled alley, turned left, turned right, and turned left again.  

When we found the brass plaque with the name of our riad, we tapped the iron knocker on the massive carved door, and were ushered by a lovely woman into another world, a magnificent interior space open to the sky three stories up, with massive blue and white tiled columns rising on all sides, enormous carved cedar doors  leading  to individual guest rooms, a fountain with rose petals floating in clear water, plush divans, and soft Arabic music playing. 

The old medina is still based on traditional industries, such as tanneries, soap making, carpet weaving, textile and flourmills, along with olive oil processing. All manner of spices, fresh and dried fruits and vegetables, fresh meat, clothing, shoes, medicinal herbs, etc. can be found in tiny shops along the narrow alleys.  You quickly learn the Arabic word “Barak!” which means there’s a heavily-laden donkey barreling down on you and you’d best move aside quickly!  

We’re accompanied on our entire trip by a most special Moroccan man, Tahar Najoui.  He’s our driver, translator, cultural interpreter, logistics guide, and teacher.  He’s built like a bodyguard, and not that we’ve needed protection so far, we know he’ll keep us safe.  Tahar is a Berber from the south of Morocco, so even though we’re learning a bit of Arabic (Salaam for hello and Chokran for thank you), he’s teaching us some Berber as well, beginning with the Berber names he’s chosen for us: I’m Eto, Judi is Tuda, Mary Jane is Eja, and Deborah is Talia.

He often gets us moving by announcing “Ya la!” (let’s go!). Tahar grew up in the southern coastal city of Agadir, and worked for several years as a disc jockey at clubs in Casablanca.  Consequently, he’s got a great selection of music, both Western and Moroccan, that he’s brought along for us to listen to as we drive.

After suffering a bit of temporary hearing loss, Tahar quit his job and became a driver for American movie stars on location in Morocco: he was Oliver Reed’s driver when “Gladiator” was being filmed (“He started drinking at 5:00 in the morning!”), and Heath Ledger’s during the filming of “Four Feathers.”  

"AMERICAN SNIPER"

After we left Rabat this morning, we were driving down the road and Tahar spotted a friend of his in another car, driving an actor to the nearby village of Quaria where Clint Eastwood’s new movie “American Sniper” is being filmed.

Tahar said that he’d been offered the job of being Clint Eastwood’s driver, but turned it down because he was already booked to be ours (are we special or what?).  Since we were so close to the action, we decided to drive over to take a look.  One of the great advantages of having our own driver like this is that we can make these serendipitous choices and deviations from our itinerary.

When we arrived, we weren’t able to see the actual filming, as locals were crowding around, and it was a bit of a dicey neighborhood, but we did hear a few huge explosions which were hopefully an intentional part of the filming!  And it was fascinating to see this location, one of many in Morocco that are chosen for making movies.  The movie industry here is referred to as “Mollywood,” and it’s big business.

LUNCH STOP

We stopped for lunch at a roadside stop popular with locals, the Moroccan version of a food court with a series of outdoor seating areas. Rows of steaming tagines (heavy terracotta bowls with tall conical lids) are lined up to choose from, and the chefs are happy to lift the lids for your inspection before you make your choice.  Lamb, vegetable, chicken, fish, all smell and taste delicious!  Before departing, I wandered along the row of food vendors, and a bearded man asked if I’d like to buy some hashish.  I politely declined.

To Westerners, seeing butchered carcasses on display like this might be off-putting.  But the government strictly controls the quality of all meat:  every piece is examined and certified by veterinarians, and consumed very soon after slaughter.  American meat, by comparison, is just not as fresh.

Towards the end of this day, we arrive in a place of fantasy, a magical Arabian Knights storybook town in the Rif Mountains of northwest Morocco.  This is Chefchaouen, also known as the “blue city.” Many buildings here are washed in every imaginable shade of blue: cerulean, azure, cobalt, sapphire, indigo and cyan, and my eyes are dazzled as the colors change with the sun’s light and shadow.  The contrast of a green plant, a yellow woven blanket, an orange tabby cat, or a crumbling terracotta wall against this background of blue, are stunning!

The town was founded in 1471 by Moorish exiles from Spain, and the blue-glazed buildings are a tradition that came from the Jews who sought refuge in this mountainous retreat during the Spanish Reconquista in medieval times.

We drive to the center of the medina, then porters help us carry our luggage through serpentine lanes, up the hill to our guest house, the Riad Lina.  We ring the bell at a nondescript doorway, and enter into a lovely retreat that will be our home for 3 nights.  There’s a tranquil indoor pool and three floors of rooms, each different, each decorated in indigo and white with colorful Moroccan rugs on bare white floors.  The rooftop terraces feature several sitting areas where we are served our breakfasts, with views of the entire town spread out below us.

This is one of those times when pictures are worth more than words.  Welcome to the Blue City of Wonder!

After waking up from our first night in Morocco, we visit the Hassan II Mosque.  Named after the former king of Morocco, it’s located on a promontory over the Atlantic Ocean, and the water is visible through a glass floor in the great hall. This is the 7th largest religious building in the world, with a 210-meter minaret that’s the world’s tallest.  Completed in 1993, it holds 105,000 worshippers.  It is said that construction cost $800 million, and that every family in Morocco was required to contribute financially.  While the vast majority of mosques are off-limits to non-Muslims, we are allowed to enter the Hassan II Mosque during specific hours.  

RABAT

Driving north along the Atlantic, we head for Rabat, the capital of the kingdom of Morocco.  Rabat is a beautiful clean city  and all foreign embassies are located here, and we drive past many of them along wide tree-lined avenues and green spaces. 

We meet our historical guide at the huge ancient gate leading into an evocative place of excavated ruins called the Chellah.  As early as 8 BC, this was a trading post between the locals and the Phoenicians, until the Romans moved in and built their city here in the 1st century.  At this time Morocco was called Mauritania, the origin of the name “Moors.” 

In 1755 a huge earthquake struck in Portugal, creating a tsunami that wiped out much of Rabat, its huge defensive wall, and the Chellah.  Not until the 1920’s did archaeologists discover the Roman ruins buried here and begin excavation. We wander the grounds of this magical place of arches, fallen columns, beautiful wild gardens, and huge white storks flying overhead who’ve build massive messy nests of sticks atop the walls and even on the old minaret.

We then proceed to the Mausoleum of Mohammad V which stands in a vast open courtyard on a hilltop, across from an old unfinished minaret.

Next we visit the picturesque Oudaia Kasbah, built in the late 1600's to protect the city and enclosed by ramparts.

At day’s end, we arrive at our riad Villa Mandarine, a gorgeous property that was once a traditional Moroccan home built around a central tiled courtyard with a splashing fountain, date palms and many other flowering plants.  It’s peaceful and quiet here, a perfect retreat after the bustle of Casablanca.

The approach from Spain:

After two long days and nights of travel, we've finally arrived in Casablanca.  This big sprawling city looks nothing like the North African port town of Bogart and Bergman fame, and I wonder if rendering it in black and white with a soft focus might actually improve things a bit. 

I’m told there’s “Rick’s Café” somewhere in town, but we won’t be going there to mingle with throngs of tourists.  Instead, we’ll sleep off our jet lag and be on the road in the morning for points less traveled to the north.   But we'll see a few sights here first, including the enormous architectural masterpiece that holds 25,000 worshippers at once and has the tallest minaret in the world:  the Mosque of Hassan II.  Here's looking at you, Casablanca!

Great overnight flight on Iberia Business Class!  Accumulating all those Chase credit card points to enable an upgrade was definitely worth it.  Gourmet meals, fine Spanish wines, and we each had our own private seating pod complete with seats that fold into lay-flat beds.  I could definitely get used to this!   We board our flight for Casablanca in 2 hours!