Morocco – Day 4 // Return to Marrakech

We woke at sparrow fart to catch a bus back to Marrakech. We walked the quiet dark streets toward the bus stop, too early even to hear the echoing sound of prayer across the city.

We had ahead of us a 10 hour bus journey, however we had mainly traveled in the dark last time so there was much to see. We snoozed for the first hour or so while the sun rose.

Once lit, we could see once again the fantastic arid landscape that the south of Morocco had to offer, passing again the dramatic canyons and desert plains.

We arrived back in Ouarzazate and after a quick stop were back on the road. We were headed for the Altus mountains which we had passed in the dead of night on the way over. To our surprise, as we approached the base of the mountains snow began to fall, and our journey over the mountain was accompanied by an alpine blizzard.

We were lucky to make it over, as we had heard from our Brazilian friends that the road had closed shortly after we had made it across.

We returned to Marrakech and headed straight to some food. We had admired a joint that did a delicious looking soup and roti combo on Monday, so tried to find this. We found the dive-y local eatery and tucked into what was a delicious lentil and vegetable soup with fresh roti for 10dm each.

We went and found a hostel for the night. We went to one which was full, but managed to negotiate a cheap price for two of the couches in the common room, as we would be sneaking out early in the morning again.

We went back out into the town in search of bread and cheese for our breakfast in the morning, and having opted to walk to the airport in the morning we had a bit of money to play with so had another round of soup, this time with pizza roti and bought some fruit and nuts. Super lavish.

We returned to the hostel and made camp in the common room, enduring the self-involved wankery of the classic back packer douche bags who feel the need to shout their conversations. Stef and I sent passive aggressive messages to each other from opposite sides of the room and giggled until everyone went to bed.

We were awoken early the next morning, minutes before our alarms by the loud drone of prayer from a nearby mosque megaphone. We assembled our belongings, made our cheese bread and were on our way through the quiet streets to the airport.

This has been a whirlwind taste of Morocco. Once again, we have done it in the best possible way, finding locals to experience it with rather than getting stuck in tourist traps and prescribed activities. There is certainly a lot more to see and do in this marvellous country but in the mean time I feel like we’ve really packed it in. Until next time, dear readers.

Morocco – Day 3 // The Sahara

After a fantastic night sleep in Aziz’s minimalist Arabian palace, we gently rose and congregated in the main room for tea and bread with olive oil and a variety of jams including a delicious locally produced date jam.

I had a little walk around the house while brushing my teeth and on finding a staircase to the roof revealed the completely different world I was in. I had stepped into a time machine. The world around me was housing made from the earth and streets paved with sand. The type of village that would have been familiar to people some 2000 year ago, minus the motor bikes, satellites dishes and Coca-cola.

Today we would trek into the Sahara desert, and Aziz was more than happy to be our guide. He and his friend Mohammad drove off on his motorbike and said he would be back in ten minutes. The four of us kicked around in the sandy streets and enjoyed the warm morning sun.

10 minutes passed and Aziz returned, not with a motor bike but with a different mode of transport which towered over us all and had a deep rumbling coming from inside. It was our camel for the day, which would carry our food and water for what would be a 20km trek. Aziz clicked at the camel and he obediently sat down on the ground and we began packing the bags on his back with rugs, water, food, and the rest. Aziz secured the load before commanding the camel to be on its feet and with that the 6 of us began our journey.

We walked through the sandy streets of this small village – which has approximately 2000 inhabitants. It serves mainly as a tourist spot for people coming to do their booked Sahara camping trips, with a number of camp sites located in the desert not to far from the walls of the city.

Within 5 minutes we had left the city and were staring at the desert. The sun was still cool by what was around 11am, but it would soon get warmer. We walked for 2-3 hours through soft dunes, and across hard lake beds. The landscape was most dramatic – my words may not do it justice.

One thing that struck me once we were well and truly away from civilisation was how absolutely silent it was. Aside from the noise we were generating there was not a single sound. Not even a breeze. I fell behind a few times to have a listen and it was deafening. Like being in a soundproof room. It was a surreal feeling. 

After some hours and with the sun at its hottest we found a small mound of plants and sand to set up our stop. We built a fire and got the tea on the brew while Aziz pulled every thing you’d need out of his Mary Poppins camel bag, throwing down a large rug and preparing a beautiful salad of tomatoes, peppers, red onions, courgette and fish with olive oil and bread. So simple, so delicious.
We ate, relaxed and explored this site for a number of hours. We jumped down the dunes, found little beetles, bathed in the sun, followed little animal tracks and relocated our camel who was given a chance to roam around – limited by his two front legs tied together.

We packed up the site, buried the fire and fed the organic waste to the camel before starting our trek back. The temperature was dropping now but it was still very pleasant. It took us a few more hours to get back to the town, during which we stopped and watched as the sun set and cast beautiful colours across the sky and dramatic light over the dunes.

We returned to the Mhamid in the dark and Stef and I insisted on going into the town and buying the ingredients for the Tajien. We went out into the dusty dusk streets and found a vege shop and got a lot of beautiful fresh produces for 20dm, went to the chicken man and got half a chicken for another 20dm and when to the baker for 5 fresh rounds of bread. All in all it came to about £6 and we were struggling to carry it all.

We returned to the house and I tried to assist Aziz in the preparation but really just ended up watching. We lay about the house all night. We chatted and dozed and played Arabian card games. The Tajien was ready and we all chowed down from the common dish. I by now had perfected my ability to eat food with bread rather than a fork. Aziz commented that I “ate like a Moroccan.”

By the time we ate our fill it was late and all of the couchsurfers had an early bus. Aziz was sad we all could not stay longer and that he would have loved to take us all out camping in the Sahara but alas, our time is short. We thanked him for an amazing experience and went to bed.

Morocco – Day 2 // Ouarzazate & Mhamid

Having left the hostel to catch our 1am bus, I quickly fell asleep as the bus departed the dark and now quiet Marrakech. A few hours later I woke up and had a peak out the window and found that we were winding our way through the snow capped Atlas Mountains. Ouarzazate is only 165km from Marrakech but because of the mountain range between the two it is a 5 hours bus trip.

Our bus arrived early at 5am and it was freezing cold and pitch black in Ouarzazate, so we each found a corner on the bus station and got a few more hours sleep as passengers came and went.

At 7am the sun was up and we had had sufficient sleep to start our day. We found ourselves a fresh cheesy roti from a street vendor and a place to find some wifi so I could get in touch with our first contact for the day. I sent a message to Kamal, who had invited us to have breakfast at his house after I got in touch through couchsurfing.

As it was still too early to expect an immediate reply we went for a walk down the road to see what we could see. We found a massive bridge connecting one side of the city to another across a river. The sun was high in the sky by now and the golden earth made it feel warmer. As we crossed the river we revealed the glory of the snow capped Altus mountain range we had left behind a few hours earlier.

We walked around to Taoirirt Kasbah, a large palace ruin which we had read was most enjoyable from the outside, so we were able to avoid paying to see the crappy inside. Ouarzazate is known as the Hollywood of Africa as it was the location for many films including Ben Hurr, The Last Temptation of Christ and Gladiator amongst others.

We went to meet Kamal at 10.30 outside a local grocer and he took us back to his apartment where I was taken by his feature wall of musician stencils. Stef and him talked music production for some time while I spoke to two Lithuanian couch surfers that Kamal had hosted that night.

The five of us sat down for breakfast of bread, cheese and tea and got acquainted. After breakfast, feeling like we had a limited time, we initiated an exodus, and the five of us walked into the city and went our separate ways.

Stef and I jumped in a cab and went to the site of Aït Ben Haddou, and large ancient mountain city carved straight into the side of a hill. The 30 minute taxi ride back tracked somewhat from our bus trip last night but revealed glorious rolling rock, reminiscent of Mars sitting against bright blue sky.

Once there, our driver decided to join us for the walk as we had arranged that he take us back to town after. The mountain was full of tourists but the three of us were able to weave our way through the narrow streets to the top to claim our sweet prize – a spectacular view and a gentle breeze.

We returned to Ouarzazate and got on our next bus, this time a 5 hour journey further southeast, to a town called Mhamid – close to the Algerian boarder, which is the door way to the Sahara. It is refered to by locals as the end of the world.

This bus trip was one of the most spectacular of my life. We drove across rolling dessert hills, over deep canyons and past spectacular mountain ranges all while the sun set and the stars rose.

We arrived in Mhamid at 9.30pm and were greeted by our host for the evening Aziz, and as I had suspected there was another pair of travellers on our bus who were being hosted by him too, a couple from Brazil. We all made our way to his house where we sat and talked over tea and a late night Tajien.

We learned a lot about the nomadic dessert tribes, which our hosts are members of. While there are still some nomads out there, drought and boarder issues have made it harder to the nomads to maintain their way of life.

Mhamid serves as the town which the former nomads had turned to. We also heard a lot about the diversity of the different Arab cultures that make up Morocco and the reliability and friendship that can be found in a camel. Our Brazilian pals had been all over too, so I had some lovely conversations with Maria reminiscing about Turkey and Greece, and hearing about travels in Russian and Egypt.

 

Eventually we retired to the first proper bed since Liverpool.

Morocco – Day 1 // Marrakech

Happy New Year dear readers! I trust that the festive season has treated you well. This year is going to be one of many new adventures, with several trips booked in the next few months, after which, in May my UK visa expires and I shall be departing my beloved Liverpool and throwing caution to the wind once again.

I am kicking off the new year with a short daddy adventure to Morocco with Stefan, to commemorate his 32nd birthday last month.

Our adventure begins in the early hours of the morning, springing out of bed and out the door shortly before 4am gmt to catch our 6am flight from Liverpool John Lennon Airport to Marrakech.

In the natural daddy travel style, we have very little planned other than a general travel route and a few people with which to cross paths. This style of travel had proved more than fruitful during my 2016 adventures.

After a stuffy Ryanair flight and mid flight chilli tortilla and salad breakfast (brought from home) we landed in Marrakech, greeted by clear blue skies and beaming sun – a welcome contrast to the drizzle we had left in Liverpool. Armed with the clothes on our back and clean underwear for half our time away we found our way into the centre of the city.

We found ourselves in a lush green oasis, surrounded by dry orange earth. The city is noticeably tidy and at 11:30am is nowhere near as bustling than I had expected. The smells are reminiscent of India, only less invasive.

We were dropped into the centre of the Medina. Standing right in front of us was Koutoubia Minaret, a grant tower standing at the base of Kutubiyya Mosque. We walked the grounds, soaking the bright sun into our wintery skin.

We walked through some lovely gardens before navigating to Jemaa el-Fna, a large town square home to a huge market full of fresh juice, various breads, snake charmers and slave monkeys in nappies. This again was not as bustling as it would later in the evening.

Once we had crossed the square we entered the narrow, winding streets that are typical of this part of the world. Painted red stone ushers you down narrow corridors of stalls selling everything under the sun – from general supplies, local delicacies, fine brass ornaments, spices, powered dye, hashish and tourist tat. These narrow streets are not limited to foot traffic, you share the path with bicycles and mopeds, often travelling much faster than appropriate for such a confined space. The sun streams through the corrugated iron covers wherever it can while over the sound of city noise can be heard the gentle drone of prayer from mosque megaphones. It would be very easy to become disoriented in these streets – praise the Lord/Allah for Google Maps.

We wound our way to Riad Marrakech Rouge, a hostel at which Stefan had stayed the last time he visited the country. Serving as a testament to his friendly and amicable nature, the proprietor of the establishment remembered him and greeted us with much enthusiasm. While we told him we would not be staying with him this time he welcomed us onto the premisses and invited us to use the hostel as a base should we need a break from the bustling city. We ascended the stairs to admire the city from the roof top – a grand view indeed. Red stone as far as the eye can see with the snow capped Altus Mountains looming faintly in the distance.

We departed – fully intending to return later on in the evening. We went to sort a night bus ticket for early in the morning which came to 85 dirham (£1 = 12.22dm). Feeling peckish, we found a street vendor full of locals to enjoy a quick bite. Stefan’s knowledge of local cuisine and impressive grasp of French yielded us a delicious Tajien – which in this case consisted of vegetables and spices steamed in a small clay pot on coals, served with fresh bread and sweet mint tea. Fantastic.

We stepped out into the street again and made our way to Palais de la Bahia, a palace and a set of gardens built in the late 19th century, intended to be the greatest palace of its time. It was intended to capture the essence of the Islamic and Moroccan styles.

We spent an hour or so gently exploring the grounds. On departing we found ourselves stepping off the tourist laden alleys and into sneaky local streets. We realised that we were circumventing the Palais El Badiî, a ruined 15th century palace. We followed our noses for some time, admiring the grandness of the architecture. Each entrance was guarded by armed officers, one of which told me off from trying to take a photo of the front gates. We ended on good terms, me with my tail between my legs but receiving a thumbs up from one of the guards. We never actually managed to find our way inside the walls.

It was feeling like the hottest part of the day around 3pm, and we had to shed some layers. It must have been about 18 degrees – not bad for winter.

Continuing sneaky walks through empty streets we managed to loop back around and stopped in at the home of Dar Si Said, now a museum filled with artefacts from the turn of the 20th century.

We found our way back to familiar territory and had a sit down with some strong coffee – deciding that we needed a wee break. It was now over 12 hours since our adventure began. After an hour or so we headed back towards the market square. It had now become dark and the city was starting to bustle. We traipsed through the narrow market streets, often coming to clearings where there were more markets.

6pm rolled around and the sun was all but gone, casting a golden strip across the horizon contrasting the deep blue of the sky overhead, silhouetting surrounding buildings beautifully. We took this opportunity to return to Riad Rogue for a proper chill session.

We remained here until later in the evening when we walked to the bus station to catch a bus departing at 1am to Ouarzazate to the south-east where we will arrive at 6am.

Christmas 2016 // Edinburgh & Glenvilet

Another year, another Christmas. It feels like both a long and short time since I was writing about last years Christmas adventure with the Noble family in the Isle of White. This year was more of a McBryde family affair, as Brendan and Uella are now living in the country and organised a Christmas getaway to the north of Scotland for anyone who was interested.

 

Day One // The First Leg

I recruited Jessie McKay and Stefan Jacobsen to represent Team Liverpool, and on the 23rd we made our first leg of the drive from Liverpool to Edinburgh. Arriving in the Scottish capital around 7pm we settled into Brendan’s house where we enjoyed chowder and chats over wine into the night. Stef and I camped in the lounge and Jessie enjoyed flatmate Mary’s bed, who was away with her family for Christmas.

 

Day Two // The Lightning Tour and The Second Leg

It came to our attention that Jessie had never been to Edinburgh before, so I motivated the team to get up early and get a tour of the city in before we disembarked on the second leg of the journey into The Highlands.

We were up and caffeinating by 8am and at the bottom of Arthurs Seat by 8.30. We ascended the mountain as the sun rose, and when we reached the top we got absolutely battered by strong winds and pelting rain. We attempted to admire the city from the top but the wind made it impossible to appreciate the views so we started to descend the mountain again.

 

We made our way around the mountain towards the city and did a quick tour up South Bridge street, past the National Museum, along Bank Street with a stop at Elephant House for coffee (where J. K. Rowling supposedly wrote the first Harry Potter novel) and up to the Castle, before finishing on Princes Street and heading back to the car. We drove back to Brendan’s House, had a mouthful of chowder and got on the road north.

We had about a 4 hour window of daylight to get to the Highlands, and we wanted to make as much ground as possible before it got dark. We opted to take a route that would take us straight up the middle of Cairngorms National Park, but just as we were driving out of Blairgowrie we saw signs saying that the road had been blocked by snow. We were yet to see any snow so we kept driving. Boy oh boy had it been snowing. The roads were clear and well gritted but it was clear that we were not getting through that way.

We diverted along a beautifully tranquil farm road, surrounded by rolling snow covered farm land to join back onto the A9, where the setting sun kissed the snow capped mountains as we passed through the valley roads of the Scottish Highlands. We were on the highway for another hour or so before switching to the winding country roads and finding our little house in the pitch black. By 5pm Team Liverpool had the fire on and the whiskey flowing with some Simpsons Christmas episodes to pass the time before the others arrived.

The others arrived a few hours later and got settled in while I made some dinner. We spent the rest of the evening eating, doing jigsaws and playing trivia games.

Day Three // Christmas Day

Everyone was up and about by mid-morning and Stef whipped up some breakfast. People floated in and out of the room to talk to their various family members back in NZ.

Around mid day we stepped out in to the glorious day to see our surroundings. We walked down our little road to find a small castle ruins almost directly across the road from our house. Further down the road was the Glenlivet Distillery, one of a number of Whiskey distilleries in the Speyside area. The distillery was closed to the public over the Christmas period but that didn’t prevent is from smelling the delicious warm malty smells seeping from the vents.

We carried on down the road for a mile or so before starting the walk back to the house for the long afternoon of food prep. I banged some Butternut squash and carrots into a pot and whipped up some soup for lunch before we all started our shifts in the kitchen to prepare our Christmas feast. Our meal was a pescetarian extravaganza. Stef and I were on the Nut Roast and trimmings which we prepared with ease. Jessie and Alice did cheese boards and salads, Midge the hors d’oeuvres and Uella the desserts.

The afternoon of cooking turned to evening and we began grazing our way into the night, with desert around 11.30pm. We were well and truely stuffed and retired to the floor to digest. We all slowly crept of too bed just as it began to snow outside.

 

Day Four // Boxing Day

We awoke to a glorious sight. The heavens had opened up over night and completely covered the landscape in about 10cm of snow. I threw my clothes on and went out into the streets. The snow was still falling and there was a strong wind throwing the snow to the ground.

We made some breakfast while the others frolicked in the Boxing Day blizzard, Brendan made a packed lunch and by late morning we embarked of a day time adventure.

The 6 of us followed the Smuggler’s Trail to Drumin Castle, across snowy paddocks and sneaky country roads. During this two and a half hour trek we were caught in multiple blizzardy gusts, explored the local farmland and streams, and I tried unsuccessfully operate a sled.

 

We stopped in the stables of Drumin Castle and had the sandwiches that Brendan had prepared. After admiring the ruins of the 12 century tower house we continued on our smugglers loop, passing at one point a herd of cows that were grieving the loss of one of their own, which we think had died between the time since we had passed the herd an hour or so prior. Each of the cows were approaching their fallen comrade and bowing their noses to touch the deceased cows face before filing passed. Never thought I’d see a cow grieving.

As we approached the house, Jessie and I fell back and found a nice hill on which we could use the sled I had been carrying for the last two and a half hours. This was such fun!

We returned to la casa and ate more food, played more trivia, watched a film and finished our jigsaws. Before bed we made a plan of attacked for the next day, as it was decided that the others would cut their 4th night in order to drive back at a more leisurely pace and see a bit of the north.

Day Five // Return to Civilisation

We awoke to a great melt. The great snow dump had all but melted away, leaving a fresh bright morning.

We munched down some breaky and got packing and tidying the house. We were on the road by 11am, heading east to Dunnottar Castle, just south of Aberdeen.

By 1pm we were wandering the mainland ground of this medieval fortress. The castle was situated on the end of a large mouth, so we walked to high cliffs of the mouth to reached an elevated point on which stood a large roman styled beacon which was a memorial to the two World Wars. We admired the surrounding landscape before walking back to the castle.

Jessie and I descended the stairs to beach level to attempt access to the castle. On reaching to door and finding it closed with a sign reiterating this fact, I began dramatically banging on the door and hollering greatings over the fortification walls as if to attract the attention of one of the soldiers that would have guarded this walls some hundreds of years ago. Thinking no one was in I was startled when a wee man opened the door and said they were open at 10am the next morning. I was lost for words while Jessie couldn’t help but laugh. We do have fun.

We returned to the cars and drove down to St Andrews, which I had visited about a year and a half ago. It was pretty dark by the time we got there but there was talk of the best Fish’n’Chips in Scotland. So using my supreme memory and navigation skills I found the way to Cromar’s Fish and Chips. We did a wee walk around the town while munching our Haddock past the ruined St Andrews Cathedral and Castle.

Once everyone had had enough we jumped in the cars on last time and made our way back to Edinburgh, where team Liverpool would stay another night. Team Edinburgh arranged a wee pub crawl for us to wrap up our Christmas time, so we spent the remainder of the evening sipping on pints and giggling while enjoying the hospitality of half a dozen of Leith Walks finest establishments.

Day Six // Return to the Pool

Back to reality. The three of us packed up our traps, had some toast and coffee and said our goodbyes. By mid-morning we were back on the road. We made a stop in Carlisle and had a walk around the Castle and attractive central city. We were most taken by an installation of welded musical instruments in a park which we enjoyed playing for ten minutes.

After an hour and a half we hopped back in the car and made our way back to Liverpool where we were welcomed by a dinner party of friends. Alas, we had to say goodbye to J McKay as she returned to her big shot life in the big city.

The best of times; the blerst of times. Merry Christmas readers!