MOROCCO: MARRAKECH TO CASABLANCA TO LOS ANGELES. SIGH.

Our Moroccan adventure was drawing to a close. After our cooking class we were driven back to our riad just in time to get our bags and meet our new driver for the 2 1/2 trip to Casablanca.

It was still light enough to enjoy the sites as we drove out of Marrakech. Two miniature horses and a camel are not the standard corner decor in the United States, at least not where I live:

People watching isn't quite the same in my neck of the woods either:

. . . and this isn't the type of church steeple I'm used to seeing:

MARRAKECH, MOROCCO: COOKING CLASS AT FAIM D'EPICES

Our last full day in Morocco began with a delicious breakfast on the roof of our riad--cocoa for me and hot milk for Bob, Moroccan crepes (a bit tough and dry) with honey and fig jam, dates, marbled cake, bread, yogurt, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. I especially enjoyed it, knowing in a few days I'd be back to cold cereal or green smoothies at home.

We got picked up at 9:30 AM for a cooking class out in the country. On our way, we stopped at two other riads and added another couple from Turin, Italy, and then a jovial young man from Prague. Lucky for us, everyone spoke a little English. We drove about 20 minutes out of the city to Faim d'epices [Hunger Spices], listed by Travel and Leisure as one of the best cooking schools around the world.

The cooking school harvests some of their ingredients from their own organic farm on the property:

The facility is wonderful--a large, sunny room with individual cook stations, and lots of little accoutrements that add to the atmosphere.

 

MARRAKECH, MOROCCO: WHERE'S WALDO IN JEMAA EL FNA SQUARE

Fes or Marrakech?

That's a question that many a time-challenged traveler asks. Of all the tourist destinations in Morocco, these two cities have the most to offer in the way of culture and history, but they are 300 miles apart, and the journey between them is not easy. Many tourists try to weigh the attractions of each place so that they can tip the scale in favor of one or the other, but the two cities really cannot be compared. While they have some things in common--a wonderful old town with all its cultural and historical buildings, a new town with its modern conveniences, crazy traffic, interesting people, relaxing riads--there is also much that is different.

In a Huffington Post article published a couple of years ago entitled "The Great Moroccan Debate: Marrakech or Fes?" Nicole Leigh West wrote: ". . . if they were both cakes made with culture instead of flour, Marrakech's other main ingredients are fun, color and exuberance, while Fes is flavored with history, mystery and its own serious brand of medieval mayhem."

The comparison I came up with is that if Morocco were to be compared to Brazil (where, admittedly, I have never been), Fes would be Sao Paulo and and Marrakech would be Rio during Mardi Gras, and the heart of the party in Marrakech is Jemaa el Fna Square, which has been around since at least the 12th century. The square is to Marrakech what Central Park is to New York City. It is a huge open space in the midst of a crowded city that serves as a place for entertainment, relaxation, and gathering.

On one side of the square is the souk, and the other sides are edged by hotels and mosques and cafes:

As in so many places in Morocco, it's a crazy blend of Old World panache and 21st century swagger:

MARRAKECH, MOROCCO: EDITH WHARTON IN MOROCCO AND THE CANNONS IN THE JEMAA EL FNA SOUK

In 1917, American author Edith Wharton (1862-1937), accompanied by the American diplomat Walter Berry and a large retinue of servants, traveled through Morocco "from the Mediterranean to the High Atlas, and from the Atlantic to Fez" (Wharton, In Morocco). When I think of Edith Wharton, the first things that come to mind are her short novel Ethan Frome and the longer, more tedious novel The Age of Innocence, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1921.  I also think of her as a socialite and the belle of the American literary world during the early 20th century.

Photo: Edith Wharton Restoration/New York Times

I don't think of her as a travel writer, but she was. 

Wharton describes her month-long journey to Morocco at the end of World War I in detail in In Morocco, which can be considered the first tourist guidebook for the area, at least the first written in English. Interestingly, our Moroccan adventure followed roughly the same route as Wharton's, beginning on the North Atlantic coast, motoring to Fes, winding through the Atlas Mountains, and then settling in Marrakech at the end of lots of driving.

In 1917, Morocco was "foreign" in every sense of the word, but that was about to change. Wharton notes, "Hardly has the Rock of Gibraltar turned to cloud when one's foot is on the soil of an almost unknown Africa. . . . The air of the unforeseen blows on one from the roadless  passes of the Atlas. . . . [I made] my quick trip at a moment unique in the history of the country; the brief moment of transition between its virtually complete subjection to European authority, and the fast approaching hour when it is thrown open to all the banalities and promiscuities of modern travel. Morocco is too curious, too beautiful, too rich in landscape and architecture, and above all too much of a novelty, not to attract one of the main streams of spring travel as soon as the Mediterranean passenger traffic is resumed. . . .  [N]o one will ever again see Moulay Idriss and Fez and Marrakech as I saw them." Wharton captured the country at the precipice of change.

One year short of a century later, Bob and I felt, somewhat like Wharton, that we were traveling in a country in a tug o' war between the past and the future. One of the places we felt the pull of the past the strongest was in the souks. The deeper we walked into the souks, the further back in time and the farther from the West we seemed to be.

The biggest souk in Marrakech, and one of the biggest bazaars in Africa, is the one attached to Jemaa el-Fna, the city's main square. Before we even got to the souk, however, we dealt with a spill-over of shopping from the souk alleys into the square. A few steps from the square's perimeter, carts on wheels suddenly appear in front of unsuspecting strolling tourists. 

A string of juice carts doesn't have to track down buyers; plenty of folks come to them in search of freshly-squeezed orange juice:

MARRAKECH, MOROCCO: LUNCH AT CHEZ LAMINE AND THE CALL TO PRAYER IN JEMAA EL-FNA

As noted in a prior post, Jemaa el-Fna is the largest city square in all of Africa. For the most part, it's a wild and crazy place--which I'll cover in a future post--but while our experiences there were wild and crazy, they were also thought-provoking and educational. Two contrasting experiences in particular illustrate this: our lunch at Chez Lamine and our experience with the Muslim call to prayer.

Our guide Abdul somehow picked up on our interest in food and our willingness to try new things. Maybe it's because we were so entranced by the olives and nuts and dates we purchased from vendors in the souks. Maybe it's because we were so fascinated by butcher shop windows. Maybe it's that we looked so well fed. 

Or MAYBE it was because Bob was pestering him about taking us somewhere authentic, not a TOURIST place. "Where do YOU like to eat?" Bob asked Abdul. 

Well, I can now tell you what authentic dish Abdul likes to eat: sheep's head roasted in a pit, served up fresh at Chez Lamine Hadj Mustapha. It may be crazy to us Americans, but it isn't wild. It's domestic.

Chez Lamine sounds innocuous enough, and the menu, if one doesn't look too closely, seems acceptable. I recognized the picture of a tangia, an urn-shaped Moroccan cooking pot that we saw everywhere. The restaurant itself was not large--maybe six or seven small paper-covered tables that could be moved around to make bigger tables--and there was nothing fancy about it. There also wasn't anything too obvious that screamed out, "WARNING! WARNING!" (unless you speak enough French to translate Tete de Mouton, which means "Head of Sheep"). 

Their outside decor, on the other hand, was not so enticing (although Bob would disagree). What is that sticking out of the tangia on the right?

If you thought it was an upside down sheep head, you were correct. You did guess that, right?

MARRAKECH, MOROCCO: BAHIA PALACE AND BEN YOUSSEF MADRASA

1.  THE BAHIA PALACE                                                                                                                      In the mid-19th century, the grand vizier of Morocco (essentially the prime minister) began construction of a home for himself in Marrakech. When he died, his son replaced him and took over the home, expanding it greatly and bringing in the best artisans in Morocco to make it the most beautiful building in the world. He named it Bahia Palace, "Bahia" meaning "brilliance" or "beautiful." Altogether, it took about 50 years to build, being completed in 1900. A sprawling, irregular structure, it covers almost 20 acres and includes multiple courtyards and extensive gardens. In my trip journal, I wrote that the Bahia Palace was the prettiest building we had seen so far on our trip. 

These days the Bahia Palace is a museum, but it's also used for formal government events, such as visits by foreign dignitaries and special guests. The Moroccan Ministry of Cultural Affairs is also housed in the Palace, and while we were in town, it was being used as one of the exhibition sites for the Marrakech Biennale.

The first courtyards we entered were stunning, the enclosed greenery providing a transition from the outside to the inside:

 

MARRAKECH, MOROCCO: LAZAMA SYNAGOGUE

Bob is a terrific trip planner and really hit the jackpot with his guide selections for Morocco. He researched the best guides on the internet, relying especially on Trip Advisor recommendations. The best of all our guides was Abdul, our guide in Marrakech.

We were so impressed with not just Abdul's knowledge about his city, but also his thoughtful approach to planning our time. He assessed our interests as we went along, and he adjusted his plans for us accordingly. A very intelligent man, he also has a good grasp of historical and international issues, and his English is excellent.

The first place Abdul took us was to the Jewish quarter, which was quite close to our riad. Jews were once 10% of the population of Marrakech, but the total Jewish population is now only about 200. Abdul said that there is no discrimination in Morocco based on religion, but I wondered why, if that were the case, there weren't more Jews in Marrakech. Abdul said that had to do with past issues and with the gathering of Jews in Israel.

Anyway, we visited the old Lazama Synagogue, which is now a museum. It is unmarked on the outside and located down a narrow side street, and it would have been a challenge to find on our own.

The first Jews arrived in Marrakech as early as the days of King Solomon, and the population grew slowly by steadily through the centuries. In the 15th century, the sultan moved the Jews into what is known as the "mellah," or walled Jewish quarter of the city. There were as many as 35,000 Jews in Marrakech, and there were many synagogues and great rabbis in the mellah, as well as a complete array of shops, craftsmen, and schools.

THE MARRAKESH EXPRESS

Our next and final main stop on our Grand Moroccan Tour was the fabulous city of Marrakech (the French spelling that we saw more often in the country than the alternate spelling "Marrakesh").  With a population of just under one million, Marrakech is the 4th-largest city in Morocco and perhaps its most important. Its main square, Jemaa el-Fnaa, is the busiest in all of Africa.

During our long drive from Skoura to Marrakech through the Atlas Mountains, we had a lot of time to chat with our driver Aziz. Bob and I do our best to absorb the culture of the places we visit, but we also feel a responsibility to spread the best of American culture. Our driver Aziz shared all his favorite American pop music with us--Rihanna, Celine Dion, and Adele, and we asked him if he had ever heard of Crosby, Stills and Nash or the song "Marrakesh Express."  When he said NO, well, we knew we had a mission. After all, Marrakech was our next destination! He pulled up the song on YouTube on his phone (yes, even in Morocco in the middle of nowhere you can do that), and he was quite taken by it. 

Yes! Success!

If I could go back to any place in the world we have been, Marrakech (and Fes) would definitely be on the list. Marrakech is the Rio version of Sao Paulo-like Fes. It is full of energy, crowded with people, and bursting with color. It's a party city, and we loved it.

I'm going to start my series of Marrakech posts with a photo overview of the city itself. I'll insert some commentary here and there, but the photos can mostly speak for themselves.

Let's begin by opening a few doors of Marrakech:

MOROCCO: DRIVING THROUGH THE HIGH ATLAS MOUNTAINS AND RIAD BADI IN MARRAKECH

The High Atlas mountain range is the Rockies of Morocco, but where the Rockies run North-South, the High Atlas creep out from the Atlantic Ocean on the west Moroccan coast and stretch eastward towards the Algerian border, a harsh, spiky demarcation between the Sahara and the Mediterranean. The only way to Marrakech from where we had been in Skoura and Ouarzazate was across, through, and up and down these bad babies.

The road led up up up and the trees disappeared, but the land was anything but barren:


Salmon sandstone, grey granite, and green fields fought for space on the landscape canvas:

Mountain after mountain flecked with snow kept appearing when we rounded the bends of roads about as wide as bicycle paths:

What a formidable barrier! No wonder the north and south sides of the country have such different cultures.