Ammar has joined the Aicha Gazelle Rallye. He has been working for it for the past two years. I got a phone call from him last Saturday to explain that he wouldn't be coming online because he was tired after walking to a spot in the dunes. He was certainly huffing and puffing. So I rang him on Monday and he was eating dinner at the bivouac at Alnif. He will be with the rallye for about a week. I must look it up on the net.
You can read about it on Wikipedia.
Ammar's job is to wait at one of the points that the drivers have to go to. He stamps their book or signs it. A bit of a lonely job I would say. I don't know how many participants he sees in a day. You can even follow the rallye live if you connect to the website - you can find it on Wikipedia. Somewhere on that map is Ammar's spot. I think they are now south west of Erg Chebbi in Merzouga.
Next time I visit Morocco I want to stay in a riad in Fes. I saw a lovely one on another blog. It's a good price too for the night. We will just go for the visa next time, no matter what.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Dongle news
Ammar is regularly contacting from his room, so much better than going to the net, as we used to say. Yesterday I got a look at the family shawl. Rkia is doing really well, she has put the fringe/tassels along two of the sides and it looks really good. She asked if I had started my own shawl but I had to say no.
It was nice to see Ayoub and Khowla. Now I am just waiting to see Nazha. And one day Ammar will take the laptop and dongle to the cafe so that I can see the cats and kittens.
I have found some beldi music that I used to hear in Des Amis (the cafe in Merzouga). It's by someone called Jellouli and can be found on http://music:.zizvalley.com/
Beldi music is my latest find in Moroccan music. It's not Amazigh but Arabic. It's the oud sound I like and it's so jolly.Abdou at the cafe always has something interesting playing for the customers.
Ammar has lent his camera to the headmaster, who is taking photos of some gifts donated by the people on the Raid 4L. A raid is a bit like a rallaye. This one consists of Renault 4 cars covered with stickers going from place to place, including the desert. Some of the cars are very colourful. There are three on this blog, but I think there were 1000 cars in total. I would love to have one of those cars, there are plenty of them in Morocco. I used to get a lift to my second school (when I was teaching) with a Miss Jenkins, who had one. The main difference between it and other cars is that the gear stick is on the steering wheel column. I was always fascinated when I watched Miss Jenkins change gears.
The family in Ait Meloul is ok. Ammar rang Hassan. Adam, the new baby is crying all through the night. Of course I was asking questions about the family but Ammar didn't ask them. Of course it was one man talking to another and they talk about different things.
Ammar has sent me the rest of the photos he took in Marrakech, then ones of door knockers and a carved piece of stone at the Badia Palace and views of the palace and the storks' nests there. He also sent some more photos of the kittens with their eyes just opening. I will miss that lovely stage when they come out of their 'nest' and start to explore. He is still giving Tricky and Shrad some sardines and they are now feeding side by side with no animosity. I don't think they know that they are related.
Got a bit waylaid and looked at my Facebook page and then to my Moroccan groups. Found a lovely singer called Hindi Zahra so I'm going to find out more about her on Google.
It was nice to see Ayoub and Khowla. Now I am just waiting to see Nazha. And one day Ammar will take the laptop and dongle to the cafe so that I can see the cats and kittens.
I have found some beldi music that I used to hear in Des Amis (the cafe in Merzouga). It's by someone called Jellouli and can be found on http://music:.zizvalley.com/
Beldi music is my latest find in Moroccan music. It's not Amazigh but Arabic. It's the oud sound I like and it's so jolly.Abdou at the cafe always has something interesting playing for the customers.
Ammar has lent his camera to the headmaster, who is taking photos of some gifts donated by the people on the Raid 4L. A raid is a bit like a rallaye. This one consists of Renault 4 cars covered with stickers going from place to place, including the desert. Some of the cars are very colourful. There are three on this blog, but I think there were 1000 cars in total. I would love to have one of those cars, there are plenty of them in Morocco. I used to get a lift to my second school (when I was teaching) with a Miss Jenkins, who had one. The main difference between it and other cars is that the gear stick is on the steering wheel column. I was always fascinated when I watched Miss Jenkins change gears.
The family in Ait Meloul is ok. Ammar rang Hassan. Adam, the new baby is crying all through the night. Of course I was asking questions about the family but Ammar didn't ask them. Of course it was one man talking to another and they talk about different things.
Ammar has sent me the rest of the photos he took in Marrakech, then ones of door knockers and a carved piece of stone at the Badia Palace and views of the palace and the storks' nests there. He also sent some more photos of the kittens with their eyes just opening. I will miss that lovely stage when they come out of their 'nest' and start to explore. He is still giving Tricky and Shrad some sardines and they are now feeding side by side with no animosity. I don't think they know that they are related.
Got a bit waylaid and looked at my Facebook page and then to my Moroccan groups. Found a lovely singer called Hindi Zahra so I'm going to find out more about her on Google.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
An Amazigh Woman
I wrote a poem about all the Amazigh women I have seen and met in Morocco. I can't cut and paste here though so I will have to write it again.
An Amazigh Woman
An Amazigh woman rises on a dark morning to feed her family sustaining soup or ta'am with ta'loute
She squats on the cuisine floor to mix tissent, zit and amen to form flat rounds of bread that she kneads and pats with skill.
She stacks them in blankets to warm and rise. She carries them on her head to the clay oven where they are tended and turned over the flames.
She found her wood and carried it one her back and it is her turn to take care of the oven today.
And then she hunches down to peel, scrape, cut and chunk the season's vegetables for tagine or couscous.
She salts and spices, oils, waters and heats and leaves it to soften and sweeten.
An Amazigh woman produces party dishes without writing a list.She works with others in seamless activity. Rkia and Bidda tending tagines and cultivating couscous.
Her daughters, nieces, friends mix together the biscuit and cake things, with no sign of a recipe book. They create doughs for sponges decorated with coconut, jam or pounded coacoa.
An Amazigh woman goes to her fields to cut plants for her sheep or goats. She feeds them peelings and cores from the meals and takes their milk for her family.
An Amazigh woman weaves a pattern with needle and thread, adding sparkle and tinkle with silver sequins and keeps the pattern in her head.
An Amazigh woman creates carpets, weaving and knotting with her kin. It is her sofa at the edges of her sitting room in her mud built home.
An Amazigh woman rests in prayer, placing the sheepskin east. Her prayer is serene, even in the midst of chaos.
She is amazing.
An Amazigh Woman
An Amazigh woman rises on a dark morning to feed her family sustaining soup or ta'am with ta'loute
She squats on the cuisine floor to mix tissent, zit and amen to form flat rounds of bread that she kneads and pats with skill.
She stacks them in blankets to warm and rise. She carries them on her head to the clay oven where they are tended and turned over the flames.
She found her wood and carried it one her back and it is her turn to take care of the oven today.
And then she hunches down to peel, scrape, cut and chunk the season's vegetables for tagine or couscous.
She salts and spices, oils, waters and heats and leaves it to soften and sweeten.
An Amazigh woman produces party dishes without writing a list.She works with others in seamless activity. Rkia and Bidda tending tagines and cultivating couscous.
Her daughters, nieces, friends mix together the biscuit and cake things, with no sign of a recipe book. They create doughs for sponges decorated with coconut, jam or pounded coacoa.
An Amazigh woman goes to her fields to cut plants for her sheep or goats. She feeds them peelings and cores from the meals and takes their milk for her family.
An Amazigh woman weaves a pattern with needle and thread, adding sparkle and tinkle with silver sequins and keeps the pattern in her head.
An Amazigh woman creates carpets, weaving and knotting with her kin. It is her sofa at the edges of her sitting room in her mud built home.
An Amazigh woman rests in prayer, placing the sheepskin east. Her prayer is serene, even in the midst of chaos.
She is amazing.
Monday, 1 March 2010
Return
I was not unhappy to be attending the baby party, I was glad to be going home. There is something refreshing about movement.
I didn't say goodbye to next door. Ammar told them that I would cry but that's not quite it. I feel a bit embarrassed about farewells, I just want to go and as I have noticed the people in Merzouga do not usually say goodbye when they leave. They sort of melt away and that suits me exactly.
We got up early and Ammar fussed about in the room. It was my job to strip the bed. He will wash the sheets and pillowcases on his return. He encased the couette in its zippered plastic bag. He was right, the Cow Blanket was not equal to the couette in warmth and comfort.
The suitcase was ready and I had packed a smaller backpack - the one I had given to Ammar for his laptop, but which he had rejected for a stronger one. Anyway I gave my bigger backpack to him gladly and did not feel so burdened when this smaller one was on my back. It was so much easier to manouvre on the plane too.
I got out and waited for Ammar while he locked up. We walked briskly to the cafe where he told me not to touch the cats. He went off to find a taxi and I sat outside but couldn't resist seeing Tricky for one last time. Shrad was not there and I did not call her. One quick stroke and Ammar was calling me for the taxi. I got into my usual place in the back seat, by the door. Far less hassle getting out from that position than from the central squash. There were three of us and two in the front seat. The driver turned round to find another passenger to make up the complement of 6 but there was no one on the cobbles of the main street. He found his last passenger on the way out of Merzouga. Ammar asked him to take us to the grand taxi place for our next taxi to Er Rachidia.
The day was hot and the engine was on in the taxi and we were waiting in the back for extra passengers getting hotter. We got out and sat in the shade. I was back in my Western clothes, trousers, top and my raincoat. I had struggled back into my Doc Martin shoes that really need a shoe horn to help me get into them. They were dirty with dust. Nothing stays pristine in Merzouga for long.
We took about an hour to get to Er Rachidia and I fell asleep on the way. We had eaten bread and fig jam at home so were not hungry. At Er Rachidia we made our way to our favourite cafe. It was about 11.30. I think that cafe is called Fiesta but I can't be sure as my memory doesn't hold that sort of information for long. It's a nice clean cafe with sit on toilets and a clean wash basin. We had a lunch of a shared salad with a small plate of chips followed by a sausage and olive sandwich and more chips which we did not share. Cokes were our chosen drink.
Our next move was to the bus station to see about a CTM bus to Ouarzazate. It was going too late so it was decided that we would do what we did on my last return and that was to take a grand taxi to Tinhrir and from there get another one to Ourzazate. Again we sought the shade and I had a tonic water to cool me. We sat near a down and out who gave out an unwashed smell that I have once or twice smelt on children that have been in a class of mine. I felt sorry for the man. Ammar guessed that he was mentally ill, there are many such people wandering the streets of Morocco. Some of them look really wild and are probably homeless. There is one who wanders the streets of Merzouga, but he is no threat as he is not mad looking and he is cared for.
We waited for almost 3/4 of an hour for the taxi to get its full amount of passengers. In fact I paid for three seats as it was a longer journey. The driver stopped at the police station to get his permission to take us to Tinhrir and we were on our way with just a small but adequate amount of air coming in to cool us. This driver did not even have the handle to open the window on my side. He just turned the point around with his hand. The removal of the back window handles is a feature of Moroccan Grand taxis. You have to ask the driver for the handle. Anyway this driver was not too bothered about his taxi as it was pretty wrecked, but that didn't stop him doing 120 km per hour. The journey was more uncomfortable for Ammar as he was in the middle and the suspension was not good. I was glad when we reached Tinhrir. The cost of 3 places was 120 dirhams.
Last time we did this journey we found a weeping tree that provided shade. This tree had been badly manicured and there was no shade at all. We went to the cafe and sat on the terrace under the moving shade of a tall pine tree. So hot for this time of year. We spent our time observing flirting turtle doves and Ammar going to see whether the passengers were coming. Eventually I decided to buy the space for four passengers and the driver agreed to go with one other passenger in the front. This taxi was far nicer and more comfortable and the driver had the necessary window winder. Again it was a speedy journey and Ammar had asked him to take us to La Vallee, the hotel we usually use, which is on the other side of the Oued Ourzazate.
I think we got there around 7. So nice not to get the extra taxi needed to get to the other side of the river. The river was quite full and had recently flooded. There were other floods in Morocco too, not good for houses made of mud. As a result of the flash flood in Merzouga in 2006 the houses there are being built with stone foundations and in some cases with clay or concrete bricks. But the mud building still continues as its cheap and easy to do.
The night at La Vallee was comfortable. We had to wake early as Youssef the manager had told us that the bus for Marrakech was leaving at 8. Just time for breakfast then. Forget about a shower. When we got to the CTM station we saw that a bus also left at 11.30, but it was better to get to Marrakech earlier. As we were waiting we noticed an older couple with backpacks. From their speech I guessed they were German or Dutch. I got talking to the woman and found they were Norwegian and had been in Morocco for about a week and were flying back on Saturday on the once a week flight from Oslo.
The woman was a teacher and was on her half term. Her husband had been a teacher but was working with computers. Its amazing how much you can learn from a short conversation. We discussed children's behaviour and it seems that the children of Norway are no different from the ones coming into schools in England, unable to talk or walk even ( I think that was a bit of a joke). Anyway children have changed in their behaviour from when I first began teaching. Also I didn't know that Norway was not in the EC. It has an economy based on North Sea Oil and Gas and that is why there is not much unemployment there and the people earn healthy salaries. But it still takes two to buy a house.
That conversation sort of fizzled out and it was time to get on the bus. The Atlas mountains had snow on their peaks and looked magnificent. I wanted a photo to show them but the bus was moving too quickly and the moment passed. But more moments came and I got my photos - well Ammar did. We stopped for lunch and shared a small tagine. There were a few cafes with tagines and a barbecue outside. The tagine were cooking in the traditional way, over a small fire of charcoal.
We wandered into a couple of shops after as I wanted to find a pair of earrings but saw nothing special. One shopkeeper tried his best to keep me there saying 'The bus stays here for 25 minutes' but just then we heard the horn and knew that the 25 minutes was up.
In Marrakech the first thing to do was to get a card for Ammar's phone so that he could ring the Riad Marana, where I wanted to stay again. We were in luck. Our taxi took us to the square which was pretty crowded. It was so hot, I had discarded my coat at the bus station in Ouarzazate.
This time we got the room I wanted. It was called Scherazade and had a simple 4 poster bed. It was heavenly. The bed had two long pieces of white cloth draped over the grid on the top and on the white counterpane there were two huge matching white pillows and artfully arranged was a thin red rug.
The riad was suffused with the smell of incense and we enjoyed the atmosphere as we sat in the courtyard drinking tea and eating biscuits.
A riad is such a lovely place to stay in Morocco. Riad Marana is typical of the smaller and less expensive ones. We have stayed in three different ones now, Riad Todra in Marrakech, which is no longer functioning and another at the medina in Essaouiara which didn't even have a name when we stayed there.
I am listening to one of two cds I bought for 15 dirhams each in the square Djemma El Fna. Its the second album of Tinariwen. Earlier I was playing the Beldi music I bought when I first came here. It plays really well on my equipment but was stuttering on Ammar's player. I think these cds are copies. The other one is the new one by Sami Yusuf.
So we had time to shower and then to wander the square and to wind down from our long journey.
We had dinner in one of the small cafes at the side of the square. I had tangia, but I didn't enjoy it much. The chips were really good though A tangia is a meat dish that has been cooked in a clay pot of the same name for a very long time, usually in the ashes of the fuel that heats an hammam.. The first tangia I had was pretty good but rather salty, this one was not well cooked as the meat in the first one I ate seemed to melt in my mouth.
There were parts of the medina that we hadn't visited before so we ambled along looking for a musical instrument seller to buy one of those oboe type instruments that the snake charmers in the square play to attract customers. We found one and haggled the price, eventually getting it down to 150 dirhams I think. Anyway I bought it and we had fun with the seller. He demonstrated how to play it. The mouthpiece was fixed to the centre of a 1p coin.It's not an easy instrument to play as it requires a lot of breath and co-ordination to get the notes from the holes. It's a bit like a recorder too as it's made of wood and is a very simple instrument.
I also bought some more scarves at the price of 20 dirhams each as they were in a sale. There were plenty of them jumbled together in a couple of boxes in a side street. We passed a man selling a plastic moustache and glasses which blew out two tubes of plastic whilst making a piercing whistle. We looked and laughed and went on but later we got one for Ayoub's amusement.
There were plenty of people in the square eating, wandering, riding bicycles and mobettes, gathering in circles around musicians and acrobats and storytellers.The drumming was my favourite thing, I just love the rhythms of different players together.
At bedtime we untied the curtains round the bed and enclosed ourselves in a little private world. The bed itself was so comfy that when I woke up for breakfast on Saturday I didn't want to leave it.
Breakfast was at 9. We were alone in the courtyard where we were entertained by a little rust and dark blue bird that flew in and ate some of our crumbs. I had cake and coffee with milk and French bread with jam. Then the waiter brought us what I thought was harcha but when we tasted it Ammar said it was something different called Bot Bot ( or something like that). It was a little round piece of bread really.Pancakes were also served but I couldn't manage one even.
We paid and got a refund of 100 dirhams as we had stayed before. The price was thus 500 dirhams. Our plan was to visit the ruined Bahia Palace and to leave our luggage at the riad. The palace was not too far to walk and a policeman put us on the right road after a man offered to take us there ( for a price of course).
Ammar didn't have to pay entry to the palace but I paid 10 dirhams. It was a total ruin and had been restored in places with cold concrete not very appealing to the eye. It must have been magnificent when it was first built but the ruler died and of course the one who succeeded him wanted his own palace. In one place there was still some zillij left and Ammar took a photo.
We passed a tree with orange blossom on it which was such a lovely smell in this sad ruin. There were a few red roses growing but I couldn't get down to smell them as they were in a sunken garden mostly filled with orange trees and wild yellow and orange flowers and swaying grass. There was a strong breeze which alieviated the sun's strength.
I decided not to take home some delicious biscuits I had bought and gave them to Ammar to give away. I have eaten too many cakes and need to have a rest from them. The patisseries sell their cakes and buscuits by weight and package them in a decorative box. I have my biscuits from the baby party to eat.
Lunch was a poor affair. My omelette was spoiled by bits of egg shell and in one piece a large chunk of it. I should have complained earlier but it was so hard to get the waiter's eye. Anyway the chips made up for the omelette. It was a cheese ommelette - with a piece of laughing cow - I bet the owners were laughing about that too. But Morocco is not England and food is different.
Our next goal was to find a place for Ammar to stay as the riad was too expensive for just one person. We found the Hotel Ali, which Petra, Michael's friend had recommended. They had a room for 200 dirhams with breakfast included but they wouldn't let me accompany Ammar to the room. He was pleased with it and left his bag there.
We got a petit taxi to the airport for 40 dirhams, one driver wanted 50. The drivers charge more than they are supposed to and hide their meters. In the end he got 37 dirhams as we didn't have enough change. Ammar waited in the check in queue with me. Once again my suitcase was under 15kg, so I breathed a sigh of relief. I left Ammar by the entry to the departure area and joined the women's queue. A policewoman frisked me around the middle and let me go.
At the departure lounge I walked through the perfume section but didn't find anything I wanted. I really don't need perfume as I have a drawerful at home.I spotted an icecream seller and so bought one at an inflated price but it was nice after the heat of the Marrakech streets. I also got a bottle of water for the plane and a Snickers bar.
The plane was a bit late and I was anxious to know which departure gate we would go to. It was gate 3 and we were whisked through. I was talking to a young man in the queue from Morocco. He was studying linguistics at Exeter University and was interesting to chat to while we waited to show our boarding passes again.
And so the plane was boarded, it flew to Bristol passing an amazing sunset, which seemed to last for half and hour and with an unexpected hard landing I was home on English concrete.
I didn't say goodbye to next door. Ammar told them that I would cry but that's not quite it. I feel a bit embarrassed about farewells, I just want to go and as I have noticed the people in Merzouga do not usually say goodbye when they leave. They sort of melt away and that suits me exactly.
We got up early and Ammar fussed about in the room. It was my job to strip the bed. He will wash the sheets and pillowcases on his return. He encased the couette in its zippered plastic bag. He was right, the Cow Blanket was not equal to the couette in warmth and comfort.
The suitcase was ready and I had packed a smaller backpack - the one I had given to Ammar for his laptop, but which he had rejected for a stronger one. Anyway I gave my bigger backpack to him gladly and did not feel so burdened when this smaller one was on my back. It was so much easier to manouvre on the plane too.
I got out and waited for Ammar while he locked up. We walked briskly to the cafe where he told me not to touch the cats. He went off to find a taxi and I sat outside but couldn't resist seeing Tricky for one last time. Shrad was not there and I did not call her. One quick stroke and Ammar was calling me for the taxi. I got into my usual place in the back seat, by the door. Far less hassle getting out from that position than from the central squash. There were three of us and two in the front seat. The driver turned round to find another passenger to make up the complement of 6 but there was no one on the cobbles of the main street. He found his last passenger on the way out of Merzouga. Ammar asked him to take us to the grand taxi place for our next taxi to Er Rachidia.
The day was hot and the engine was on in the taxi and we were waiting in the back for extra passengers getting hotter. We got out and sat in the shade. I was back in my Western clothes, trousers, top and my raincoat. I had struggled back into my Doc Martin shoes that really need a shoe horn to help me get into them. They were dirty with dust. Nothing stays pristine in Merzouga for long.
We took about an hour to get to Er Rachidia and I fell asleep on the way. We had eaten bread and fig jam at home so were not hungry. At Er Rachidia we made our way to our favourite cafe. It was about 11.30. I think that cafe is called Fiesta but I can't be sure as my memory doesn't hold that sort of information for long. It's a nice clean cafe with sit on toilets and a clean wash basin. We had a lunch of a shared salad with a small plate of chips followed by a sausage and olive sandwich and more chips which we did not share. Cokes were our chosen drink.
Our next move was to the bus station to see about a CTM bus to Ouarzazate. It was going too late so it was decided that we would do what we did on my last return and that was to take a grand taxi to Tinhrir and from there get another one to Ourzazate. Again we sought the shade and I had a tonic water to cool me. We sat near a down and out who gave out an unwashed smell that I have once or twice smelt on children that have been in a class of mine. I felt sorry for the man. Ammar guessed that he was mentally ill, there are many such people wandering the streets of Morocco. Some of them look really wild and are probably homeless. There is one who wanders the streets of Merzouga, but he is no threat as he is not mad looking and he is cared for.
We waited for almost 3/4 of an hour for the taxi to get its full amount of passengers. In fact I paid for three seats as it was a longer journey. The driver stopped at the police station to get his permission to take us to Tinhrir and we were on our way with just a small but adequate amount of air coming in to cool us. This driver did not even have the handle to open the window on my side. He just turned the point around with his hand. The removal of the back window handles is a feature of Moroccan Grand taxis. You have to ask the driver for the handle. Anyway this driver was not too bothered about his taxi as it was pretty wrecked, but that didn't stop him doing 120 km per hour. The journey was more uncomfortable for Ammar as he was in the middle and the suspension was not good. I was glad when we reached Tinhrir. The cost of 3 places was 120 dirhams.
Last time we did this journey we found a weeping tree that provided shade. This tree had been badly manicured and there was no shade at all. We went to the cafe and sat on the terrace under the moving shade of a tall pine tree. So hot for this time of year. We spent our time observing flirting turtle doves and Ammar going to see whether the passengers were coming. Eventually I decided to buy the space for four passengers and the driver agreed to go with one other passenger in the front. This taxi was far nicer and more comfortable and the driver had the necessary window winder. Again it was a speedy journey and Ammar had asked him to take us to La Vallee, the hotel we usually use, which is on the other side of the Oued Ourzazate.
I think we got there around 7. So nice not to get the extra taxi needed to get to the other side of the river. The river was quite full and had recently flooded. There were other floods in Morocco too, not good for houses made of mud. As a result of the flash flood in Merzouga in 2006 the houses there are being built with stone foundations and in some cases with clay or concrete bricks. But the mud building still continues as its cheap and easy to do.
The night at La Vallee was comfortable. We had to wake early as Youssef the manager had told us that the bus for Marrakech was leaving at 8. Just time for breakfast then. Forget about a shower. When we got to the CTM station we saw that a bus also left at 11.30, but it was better to get to Marrakech earlier. As we were waiting we noticed an older couple with backpacks. From their speech I guessed they were German or Dutch. I got talking to the woman and found they were Norwegian and had been in Morocco for about a week and were flying back on Saturday on the once a week flight from Oslo.
That conversation sort of fizzled out and it was time to get on the bus. The Atlas mountains had snow on their peaks and looked magnificent. I wanted a photo to show them but the bus was moving too quickly and the moment passed. But more moments came and I got my photos - well Ammar did. We stopped for lunch and shared a small tagine. There were a few cafes with tagines and a barbecue outside. The tagine were cooking in the traditional way, over a small fire of charcoal.
We wandered into a couple of shops after as I wanted to find a pair of earrings but saw nothing special. One shopkeeper tried his best to keep me there saying 'The bus stays here for 25 minutes' but just then we heard the horn and knew that the 25 minutes was up.
In Marrakech the first thing to do was to get a card for Ammar's phone so that he could ring the Riad Marana, where I wanted to stay again. We were in luck. Our taxi took us to the square which was pretty crowded. It was so hot, I had discarded my coat at the bus station in Ouarzazate.
This time we got the room I wanted. It was called Scherazade and had a simple 4 poster bed. It was heavenly. The bed had two long pieces of white cloth draped over the grid on the top and on the white counterpane there were two huge matching white pillows and artfully arranged was a thin red rug.
The riad was suffused with the smell of incense and we enjoyed the atmosphere as we sat in the courtyard drinking tea and eating biscuits.
A riad is such a lovely place to stay in Morocco. Riad Marana is typical of the smaller and less expensive ones. We have stayed in three different ones now, Riad Todra in Marrakech, which is no longer functioning and another at the medina in Essaouiara which didn't even have a name when we stayed there.
I am listening to one of two cds I bought for 15 dirhams each in the square Djemma El Fna. Its the second album of Tinariwen. Earlier I was playing the Beldi music I bought when I first came here. It plays really well on my equipment but was stuttering on Ammar's player. I think these cds are copies. The other one is the new one by Sami Yusuf.
So we had time to shower and then to wander the square and to wind down from our long journey.
We had dinner in one of the small cafes at the side of the square. I had tangia, but I didn't enjoy it much. The chips were really good though A tangia is a meat dish that has been cooked in a clay pot of the same name for a very long time, usually in the ashes of the fuel that heats an hammam.. The first tangia I had was pretty good but rather salty, this one was not well cooked as the meat in the first one I ate seemed to melt in my mouth.
There were parts of the medina that we hadn't visited before so we ambled along looking for a musical instrument seller to buy one of those oboe type instruments that the snake charmers in the square play to attract customers. We found one and haggled the price, eventually getting it down to 150 dirhams I think. Anyway I bought it and we had fun with the seller. He demonstrated how to play it. The mouthpiece was fixed to the centre of a 1p coin.It's not an easy instrument to play as it requires a lot of breath and co-ordination to get the notes from the holes. It's a bit like a recorder too as it's made of wood and is a very simple instrument.
I also bought some more scarves at the price of 20 dirhams each as they were in a sale. There were plenty of them jumbled together in a couple of boxes in a side street. We passed a man selling a plastic moustache and glasses which blew out two tubes of plastic whilst making a piercing whistle. We looked and laughed and went on but later we got one for Ayoub's amusement.
There were plenty of people in the square eating, wandering, riding bicycles and mobettes, gathering in circles around musicians and acrobats and storytellers.The drumming was my favourite thing, I just love the rhythms of different players together.
At bedtime we untied the curtains round the bed and enclosed ourselves in a little private world. The bed itself was so comfy that when I woke up for breakfast on Saturday I didn't want to leave it.
Breakfast was at 9. We were alone in the courtyard where we were entertained by a little rust and dark blue bird that flew in and ate some of our crumbs. I had cake and coffee with milk and French bread with jam. Then the waiter brought us what I thought was harcha but when we tasted it Ammar said it was something different called Bot Bot ( or something like that). It was a little round piece of bread really.Pancakes were also served but I couldn't manage one even.
We paid and got a refund of 100 dirhams as we had stayed before. The price was thus 500 dirhams. Our plan was to visit the ruined Bahia Palace and to leave our luggage at the riad. The palace was not too far to walk and a policeman put us on the right road after a man offered to take us there ( for a price of course).
Ammar didn't have to pay entry to the palace but I paid 10 dirhams. It was a total ruin and had been restored in places with cold concrete not very appealing to the eye. It must have been magnificent when it was first built but the ruler died and of course the one who succeeded him wanted his own palace. In one place there was still some zillij left and Ammar took a photo.
We passed a tree with orange blossom on it which was such a lovely smell in this sad ruin. There were a few red roses growing but I couldn't get down to smell them as they were in a sunken garden mostly filled with orange trees and wild yellow and orange flowers and swaying grass. There was a strong breeze which alieviated the sun's strength.
I decided not to take home some delicious biscuits I had bought and gave them to Ammar to give away. I have eaten too many cakes and need to have a rest from them. The patisseries sell their cakes and buscuits by weight and package them in a decorative box. I have my biscuits from the baby party to eat.
Lunch was a poor affair. My omelette was spoiled by bits of egg shell and in one piece a large chunk of it. I should have complained earlier but it was so hard to get the waiter's eye. Anyway the chips made up for the omelette. It was a cheese ommelette - with a piece of laughing cow - I bet the owners were laughing about that too. But Morocco is not England and food is different.
We got a petit taxi to the airport for 40 dirhams, one driver wanted 50. The drivers charge more than they are supposed to and hide their meters. In the end he got 37 dirhams as we didn't have enough change. Ammar waited in the check in queue with me. Once again my suitcase was under 15kg, so I breathed a sigh of relief. I left Ammar by the entry to the departure area and joined the women's queue. A policewoman frisked me around the middle and let me go.
At the departure lounge I walked through the perfume section but didn't find anything I wanted. I really don't need perfume as I have a drawerful at home.I spotted an icecream seller and so bought one at an inflated price but it was nice after the heat of the Marrakech streets. I also got a bottle of water for the plane and a Snickers bar.
The plane was a bit late and I was anxious to know which departure gate we would go to. It was gate 3 and we were whisked through. I was talking to a young man in the queue from Morocco. He was studying linguistics at Exeter University and was interesting to chat to while we waited to show our boarding passes again.
And so the plane was boarded, it flew to Bristol passing an amazing sunset, which seemed to last for half and hour and with an unexpected hard landing I was home on English concrete.
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