Day 9 Skoura – Marakesh

Typed while driving into the High Atlas mountains, so not all typos are due to my usual clumsy typing. High Atlas, wow, and we haven’t got close to the snow yet. These mountains aare quite steep, mostly barren — some trees but generally just shrubbery. The road is cut into the side of the cliff, with only a foot high cement barrier and some fairly regularly spaced red and yellow striped star pickets between us and the edge. We just passed a point 2600 metres above sea level, the Tischa pass, and now heading down a bit. There are small patches of ice in tyhe ravines.

Woke up this morning to a view of the High Atlas, massive snow covered peaks that look like they are floating. Managed to get the taps right in the bathroom, C for hot and F for cold, ah those wacky French.

(quick pause for iicredible photos and an encounter with a rip-off merchant selling fake stones. Oh and the star pickets are recycled railway track.)

Anyway, worked out hot and cold, had a wonderful fromage omelette and bread and crepe and jam for breakfast, chatted with the dogs until Abdul arrived. Then it’s on the road, through the High Atlas, onwards to our final Moroccan stop, Marrakesh.

Wow, all wow. The drive was so wow. Come to Morocco and experience it for yourself, the breathtaking beauty of thhe scenery, the breathtaking fear of being in a car barely hanging on to the side of the cliff. The stop off to take pictures of an old kasbah while some old guy drapes a snake around your shoulders.

Say whatthefuck?

There we were, minding our own business, taking pictures, when this dude, aged  somewhere between 70 and 700, wanders up carrying a sack. He reaches in and pulls out about 1.5 metres of some kind of snake, assuring me it’s not venomous. He might be right, but do I want to find out? Not really. It’s that Australian thing, coming from a place where we have anywhere between 7 and 11 of the world’s 10 most venomous snakes (no one seems to agree on how best to measure this). Snakes ain’t toys, not like kittens, and don’t they just shred you easy as cheese. And, suffice to say, I don’t like snakes.

Before I can blink, the old geezer has this snake draped around my shoulders. I’ve seen enough of the animal channel to know we’r not dealing with a cobra here, but that don’t mean much. Then he gestures for me to take hold of the snake’s neck. and backs away, leaving me holding this reptilian necklace. Around this time common sense kicks in (not the common sense that ponders whether this  guy has public liability insurance should he be wrong) and I realise this snake is pretty cold. Not dead cold, it’s still alive, but in the early morning air my warm-blooded jewellery is probably not up to any sudden moves. So I relax some, as the guy then drapes the snake over my head.

Then it’s L’s turn, and I get the job of taking photos. She ain’t too keen on snakes either, but goes through the same rigmarole, with extra style and calm that she has dealing with all sorts of creatures.

Then we give the guy 5 dirhams each and we’re on our way, on one hand feeling pretty chuffed that we handled a snake without screaming, but on the other feeling a little creeped out.

Toilet stop at some cafe with a souvenir shop attached. Grabbed some random pressies, bargained a bit but ended up paying a little more than we should. Still, good practice for Marrakesh where all the fun starts.

Stopped at a women’s co-op where they make agran oil, this weird yummy nutty oil that involves goats in trees and possibly their digestion and then cracking roasting and grinding. The result is something that tastes a little of peanut, a little of sesame, and when mixed with almond butter and honey makes this wonderfully sweet paste that should just be eaten with a spoon.

Lunch was next door, a lamb cous cous dish that was pretty yummy. Cous cous was a little small and gritty, but not too bad.

Back in the car for more wow most of the way to Marrakesh.

Marrakesh/Marrakech. It’s the place where crazy people come to play on the streets. Cars, buses, trucks, scooters, motorised bicycles, regular deadly-treadlies, walkers, the frail, all come in a quest to get from point A to point B in such a way to cause the maximum  inconvenience to everyone else around. Two lane roads become 4 lanes, until some guy with a donkey and carriage full of oranges decides to stop and set up a stall on the road. Pedestrians step out  at any opportunity and then stare at cars who have the tenacity to want to go around them. In among  all this are various crazies on 2 wheeled devices, they go wherever they want.

The place we’re staying at here is in the medina. and it’s okay. We’ve been spoilt by previous digs  being spectacular, and this place pales in  comparison. If we’d started out here we would have been impressed, I think. But the room is pokey,  the bed is a firm mattress on a concrete base, and the riad seems full of a horde of noisy French children. Location is good, though, and the dinner tagine of chicken and olives was pretty tasty.

Tired now, and tomorrow we get a guided tour of the medina, so much shopping and bargaining ahead. Hope those kids go to bed soon.