From Oasis to Mountain

 Wednesday, March 18

Another very long day of driving today. When we were planning to join this tour, I did look at driving times, and I remember several very long days, but I don’t think it registered that almost every driving day would be long. Fortunately, the tour is planned so as not to ever have two six-hour days in a row. In addition, stops are frequent and well-spaced. Nevertheless, it’s exhausting. I’m grateful for the good company of my fellow travellers. We always manage to have good conversation and lots of laughs.

Stars of our own film

Our first stop today was at Ouarzazate, known as the Hollywood of Morocco. We gazed down a long driveway at the studio lot whose main claim to international fame, it seems, is “The Mummy”: the outer gates were flanked by Egyptian motifs. Must see that film!

Entrance to film lot

We continued on, and visited a women’s carpet co-op. Mariam and Wild Women have been careful to find places that are true co-ops. Many storefronts call themselves co-ops, but in fact are not. This establishment, Coopérative du Tapis Akhnif Lglaoui, is where women from the region can bring their carpets to sell, under no duress to produce. There must be thousands of carpets here, in all different styles, from thick knotted pile to fine kilims. These latter were my favourite to look at, but they are so coarse to the touch, I was dissuaded from even considering buying one.

Carpet cooperative

Would you like to buy a thousand carpets?

We watched a woman carding wool, and then spinning it expertly. Another woman was knotting a piled rug, knot by knot. We know hand-knotted rugs are valuable, but watching this woman work, I realized a finished carpet of any size represents years of labour.

 

 

 

Some carpets have designs that tell a story, if you know how to read them. When distances were long and communication difficult, a young woman would make a carpet to send to her mother. The code she wove into it would tell her mother how her marriage was going and if she was happy. The men were not privy to this code.

The best carpets sell for upwards of $6,000 dollars Canadian, but I would think they’d be twice that price in Canada, if such quality can even be found. We were shown carpet after carpet by “Mr. Muscles,” the only man in the place. They’ll ship all over the world. I suppose sometimes people actually buy.

 

Kilims like these are my favourite 

A hefty price tag: about $6000 Canadian

Across the river from the co-op is Ait Ben Haddou, a kasbah which has been designated a Unesco World Heritage site. The kasbah we visited in Merzouga, so well preserved, does not have such a designation, and does not want it and its accompanying commercialization.

Ait Ben Haddou

I would have thought that World Heritage designation would mean preservation of the spirit of a place, but this is certainly not the case here. The whole place is a marketplace for tourists, and it's crawling with them. All the usual crap…er…goods are here: scarves, bags, kaftans, trinkets, fridge magnets, postcards. I’m grateful we’d seen the more authentic version.

Shopping in the Kasbah

 

This man's little paintings were invisible until he held them over a flame. 

 

Synagogue in the kasbah

One must always know how long one's camel will take to get to Timbuktu

My list of must-see movies just grew

From Ouarzazate, we began the climb into the heart of the High Atlas mountains. Roads were excellent, but winding. We stopped for lunch at a mega-eatery, where a tour bus load of people was just finishing up. I’m starting to realize there is a set pattern that all the tours follow, set places to stop, set places to eat. It’s kinda weird. But the bathroom are clean and the food suits the needs of the less-adventurous palate.

The thing about winding roads is that they are motion-sickness inducing; you have to keep your eyes on the road. We were fine: I had my perch above the wheel, as did Bettyanne across the aisle. Sue and Milica were ensconced in the back seat as always, higher than all of us. Vicki seemed to be fine in front of me, without the forward sight line. 

Sporadically along the way, there’d be a bend in the road with a pull-out, and, sure enough, a man with things to sell, the same things that are for sale everywhere. I started thinking about these guys and their make-do roadside shops, all with the same stuff, and I realized there must be a central warehouse somewhere, and maybe someone who runs the goods out to the tourist traps and the bends in the roads. I guess I was thinking out loud, and I started muttering about the “Trinket Cartel,” and the whole bus erupted. That was it! We were on the lookout from then on. I tell you, the Trinket Cartel is everywhere.

The Trinket Cartel by the kasbah

  

The Trinket Cartel by the side of the road

 We came in sight of snowy mountains. We came perilously close to snowy mountains. 

We’ve been cold a lot on this trip, colder than the tour packing list led us to expect. We’d been told the desert gets cold at night, but let me just say the desert was positively balmy at night compared to many of our days in Morocco. We’d had some respite, in the oasis and in the desert and in the valleys by Merzouga. I, for one, was not ready to be back in the cold. But up we climbed, up and up, to emerge in Imlil, a mountain village at the base of Mount Toukbal, the highest mountain in Morocco and the second most popular mountain for climbing in Africa, next to Kilimanjaro. And it was cold.

Imlil was a location for “Seven Years in Tibet.” I bet Brad Pitt was cold, too.

We were let off in the main road of the village and walked the last bit to our abode, the Riad Jnane Imlil. This was a rustic mountain lodging, but beautiful. It was heated by heat pump in the bedrooms and by fire in the common rooms. We were provided with djellabas, which we discovered were wonderfully cosy. I understand, now, why this full-coverage robe is still worn here, even by young men. We ate our tagine fully djellaba’d against what cold there might be.

Welcoming committee, Imlil

 

Imlil from our riad window