Another follow-up to my previous wordy post…the delicious bread that was cooked in a wood-fired oven, which arrived at the tables with the stones from the oven still embedded in it. Luckily I didn’t break a tooth. Speaking of teeth, Norah lost a tooth in Morocco and the tooth fairy made a special trip to leave 50 dirhams under her pillow.
My brother-in-law Mustafa:
The stones:
The ladies baking outside behind the restaurant:
Bread in the oven:
That’s a blog post title I never expected to write. I didn’t even know they had hamsters in Morocco.
By request, here are some photos of the giant hamster balls I mentioned in a previous post. We wanted to make sure the kids got the full cultural experience of Morocco.
Norah in the deflated ball:
Aliya’s ball being blown up with the leaf blower (how’s the air quality in there?):
Aliya starting to master the art of standing up in a hamster ball (how do the hamsters do it so instinctively?):
A crowd begins to form, watching the nutso American kids (Adlani’s in the blue ball):
What a great day. We had planned to visit the potters’ complex in Oulja on this trip, but we hadn’t gotten around to it and I was afraid it was going to be put off until our next trip to Morocco. It seems like we’ve been doing a lot of shopping but there were still a bunch of gifts I wanted to buy and I REALLY wanted to shop in Oulja. It’s not hectic like shopping in the souks, and you don’t have to haggle much. Plus I LOVE pottery.
Uncle Abdullah got wind of our plan to take the train, and he showed up this morning to drive us. It was a good thing he did because we came home with a trunk-full and we’d have to set some limits if we were traveling by train (I’m not good at limits). I found out at breakfast that I needed to go try on one of the shirts that the seamstress is working on, so we made a quick trip to her house and then headed to Salé.
Nothing is easy to find in Morocco – the signage is really bad and I don’t know if you can use a GPS here. The maps are useless since there are no signs to tell us what road we’re on, so we basically get around by asking people which way to go. I know the words for left, right, and straight in Arabic, and I’m Uncle Abdullah’s co-pilot which isn’t the most efficient plan since I have no navigational tools whatsoever. We drove to the general vicinity of the potters’ complex and then asked someone in the median when we were stopped at a roundabout. We found it pretty easily and saw fields full of farm animals and storks (an interesting combination) on the way.
The complex has A LOT of pottery stores. We went into at least 25. Adlani was sick and kept falling asleep wherever he sat down so that put a slight damper on things until we sent him to the car with Uncle Abdullah. Out of sight, out of mind, and I didn’t have to worry about him puking in a pottery shop.
A lot of the potters have similar styles of pottery, so the ones that had something different drew me in. After a while I was completely overwhelmed with the beauty of the stacks and stacks of plates, cups, bowls, vases, tagines…all precariously balanced and ready for Norah to pull out the bottom cup and send everything crashing down. The prices are really inexpensive…I felt guilty about some of the purchases because of the hours of work that have to go into each piece. My favorite designs were the ones that remind me of henna, but there weren’t a lot of pieces available. I also went into what looked like a run-of-the-mill pottery store and found a back room with the lights off that had very simple but beautiful designs. I’m already wishing I could have bought more but I have no idea how we’re going to pack what we did buy so we don’t end up with everything in little pieces. Bubble wrap has not made it to Morocco yet but I’m thinking about starting a business importing it and selling to to tourists.
The last store we went to was one that Ben remembered from our previous trip – Mohammed El Rhalmi. He uses a distinctive mustard-yellow color, and he is the only potter to use this style. Aliya, Norah, and I ended up in his store without Ben at first, and he communicated with hand gestures and encouraging noises that we should come through the back door of his shop into the area where they make everything. He gave the girls some clay and started sculpting his own chunk of clay. He made a cowboy and Norah insisted on a gun, which she then used to shoot Mohammed. Anyway, he took us INSIDE the giant kiln, where they can push in a cart full of items to be fired. It was probably around 6′ x 8′ inside.
When Ben caught up with us he chatted with Mohammed for a long time and it turns out that the potter has traveled all over the world because his pottery is so special. He had photos of a bunch of dignitaries and exhibitions he had done in other countries. We had a great time with him.
Here are some photos from our shopping trip…
The business card of our favorite guy:
I love this platter but it was too big to try to get home to the US along with all of the other stuff.
This tagine is GIGANTIC!
One part of Mohammed’s store:
Another part:
Moroccans are drawn to Norah. They seem to like her feistyness, and the language barrier is actually a plus because they don’t know how fresh and naughty she is.
Mohammed gave each of the girls a mini tagine as a gift.
I may have nightmares about this pile of tagines tonight:
These are the simple pieces I found in the dark back room:
Working on their clay creations:
I don’t remember seeing purple pottery in Salé before:
This is the design that reminds me of henna, although henna is much more intricate. I bet real henna designs on pottery would sell like hotcakes.
This pot had a door on it but I didn’t like it enough to buy it. There were some beautiful things in this shop but I was getting potteried out at this point.
Sick boy (He has now recovered, and actually thanked me for taking him to the pottery complex. On second thought, maybe he’s still sick.)…
We thought tomorrow might be the first day of Ramadan (they have to wait until the moon is seen before they will commit), but it’s not, so we have an unexpected extra day that everyone won’t be fasting. Yay!
In the interest of not falling so far behind that I give up completely, I’m writing this post to catch up on all that we’ve been doing. I’ll add some photos later.
Last Friday we scrapped our plans to go to Essaouira because driving from Marrakech to Mohammedia via Essaouira would have taken us 6-7 hours and as usual we didn’t get an early start. I like to travel at my own pace but that’s extremely hard to do when there’s an entourage involved. It is 5 hours later here than in Massachusetts, and like the last time we came, our internal clocks really haven’t adjusted. Without an alarm we wake up around 10, and end up staying up until 2 or 3 a.m. That seems to be the normal Moroccan schedule anyway.
Instead of going to Essaouira, Ben hung out at the pool with the kids (photos of the pool here, and photos of the hotel here), and I went into the Marrakech medina (old city) with everyone else. We went to the souk to do a little shopping, and I bought some AWESOME old locks and keys. That may seem like a weird thing to buy but not if you know me. One of the locks is from a bag used on camels in the Sahara. All of the locks are very old and beautiful (at least to me). We bought a few other things but the effort to bargain, especially in the extreme heat, took its toll.
We went back to the hotel to collect the kids and Ben, and headed north to Mohammedia. I am not exaggerating when I say that the breeze blowing in the car window felt like a hair dryer on the hot setting. It had to have been over 100 degrees, but in Morocco I never know what the temperature is or what time it is, and sometimes I don’t know what day it is. I’ll have to bring a watch and a thermometer next time. Or not. We arrived back in Mohammedia without incident.
Saturday we went to Casablanca to see the Hassan II mosque (photos here) which has extremely big doors to match everything else about the place, which is the biggest mosque in Africa. Then we went to the “fixed price” store to buy some things to take home. I would prefer to wander through the souks but I like to do it on my own and I have had no alone-time since arriving in Morocco. I remember when I lived alone Ben’s family felt sorry for me. I don’t mind being alone at all…although I barely remember what it’s like.
Sunday we had plans to go back to the souk to deliver some photos that we took last week, but my portable printer died. We had a quiet day and I got some work done. The aunties took the girls to the market to buy each of them a Moroccan outfit – a caftan, shoes, and belt for $20. That night was my nephew Amine’s 11th birthday party. Everyone got dressed up for the birthday celebration, which started very late – around 10 p.m. There were decorations and a cake, but it is not traditional to give birthday gifts here. There was plenty of singing and dancing, but I finally had to call it a day around 1:30 a.m. It’s much cooler here than in Marrakech, but it was still steamy with all the dancing and carrying on. I went to our apartment for something and it was so cool and peaceful I couldn’t resist.
Monday morning I took Aliya and Norah to the hammam, along with two of my sisters-in-law. The hammam is the public bath, and it’s an important part of Moroccan life. All of our apartments have showers, but everyone still seems to go to the hammam about once a week. The mens’ and womens’ hammams are separate, and there are 3 tiled rooms which range in temperature from warm to hot. We settled in the middle room and the ladies who work in the hammam started bringing us 5-gallon buckets of hot water. Everyone sits on rubber mats on the floor, or on little plastic stools, and spends about an hour scrubbing, shaving, shampooing, and socializing. Aliya and Norah seemed a little freaked out by all of the Moroccan ladies in their underwear scrubbing each other, but I immediately recognized one of the hammam workers – Malika, from a previous trip. For a couple bucks Malika used a scrubby mitt to exfoliate me, and let’s just say she left almost no stone unturned. The hammam is an experience that can’t be missed when traveling in Morocco.
That afternoon we were invited to lunch with Ben’s cousin and her family at a restaurant. Eating at a restaurant is definitely not a common occurrence here. The highlight of the meal was the special bread which arrived at the table warm and with stones embedded in it from the wood-burning oven (photos here). I took the kids to see the ladies making the bread behind the restaurant. It was SO DELICIOUS. One of the women we had lunch with was wearing a beautiful shirt that was like a Moroccan caftan, except sleeveless and tunic-length. I asked where she bought it and it turned out that a seamstress had made it for her. I had to have one (or two…or three)
But first…the kids had seen what can only be described as giant hamster balls in a swimming pool, at the grocery store (photos here). Their aunties wouldn’t let them go in…I think because if ourkids suffocated in a giant hamster ball they didn’t want it to happen on their watch. So we took them and paid 20 dirhams ($2.30) each to have them sealed in a giant plastic ball (like a beach ball), which was then blown up with a leaf blower and pushed into a shallow pool. They are begging to go again so apparently it was more fun than it sounds.
After stocking up on some groceries we came home and found the house almost empty. I don’t think the house is ever actually empty but all of the aunties had gone to their own house a block away. We went to visit and they started preparing dinner despite our insistence that we weren’t hungry, since it was after 10 p.m. While dinner was in the works they started singing a song that involved drumming, dancing, and exuberant laughing. I have a great video of it which I will post when I’m back in the land of high-speed internet.
Now, back to my new wardrobe. Ben and I got up early (7:30) today and went to Casablanca with his brother, sister, and brother-in-law. We found the area that sells fabric, and went from stall to stall looking at what each merchant had available. The first guy showed us so many different fabrics that I felt like I had to buy from him, and I bought two pieces of fabric there. I found another one that I loved at a different merchant, for a total of $80. The pieces of fabric are pre-cut to about 3 meters. While we were in the fabric souk a fight broke out between two vendors who were setting up their tables in the middle of the alley. Now I know where Ben gets his quick temper, although he has never hit me with a board. At least not yet.
I had a couple of super-soft Moroccan blankets on my list, so we bought those, and headed back to the car. My brother-in-law stopped for a sardine sandwich and in the process of buying it, the circuit board fell out of his key. He didn’t realize it until he tried to open the car, and then he ran back and found the missing piece but the doors wouldn’t open. We tried to use the key instead of the transmitter, but that didn’t work either.
Standing on the sidewalk in the middle of Casablanca with a bunch of bags and a car with only one key in existence and no way to open the doors, I reached relaxation nirvana. Those of you who know me will realize how amazing this is. I wasn’t upset, worried, or anxious. I simply accepted that we would eventually get the car unlocked and get home. I felt like a kid riding in her parents’ car during a snowstorm…the parents are white-knuckled while the kid is admiring how pretty the snow is as it flies at the windshield, without a care in the world. I need to figure out how to take this back to the states with me.
While Ben’s brother and brother-in-law went off down the street to look for a solution, the rest of us went to a café for my favorite coffee – cahwah nus-nus. I did comment on the inefficiency of the brothers’ plan – just walk around and ask people if they know who fixes electronic keys (my alternative plan would be to find an internet café and Google “Casablanca locksmith”), but it didn’t really matter to me. I enjoyed my coffee and my pastry, and had another adventure with the special Moroccan toilet and the lady who guards it. Then we went back out on the street to wait, and after about 1 hour total, the guys showed up with a working electronic key and we were on our way. “Makayn mooshkeel” means “not a problem,” and I use it a lot.
When we got back to Mohammedia we went straight to the seamstress, in hopes that she had nothing better to do for the next 6 days than make my tunics. She served us fresh juice (despite our protestations again – protesting against Moroccan hospitality is pointless), showed us some of her work, took a bunch of measurements and told us that when her son comes to visit her from Florida in a month, she will send the tunics back with him. Makayn mooshkeel!
Tonight we (with our entourage of 12) went to a circus in parking lot of the same grocery store with the giant hamster balls. It was actually pretty good – everyone’s favorite was the 4 motorcycles going at top speed around the inside of a steel sphere. There were also 4 tigers (2 were obviously VERY well fed), ponies, zebras, crocodiles, snakes, a few aerial acts plus a high-wire act and a trapeze group, some clowns, fire-eaters, and I’m sure I’m forgetting some things. Before it started there was a guy working the crowd with a lion cub and a camera, but we didn’t have our photo taken. (There are a few circus photos and a video here.)
We’re nearing the end of our adventure in Morocco…one more shopping day tomorrow and then Ramadan begins!
I will post some photos tomorrow!
Since my first trip to Morocco in 1998, I have been wanting to visit Telouet. I don’t know what it was, but there was something in the Lonely Planet – Morocco guidebook that intrigued me. It’s off the beaten path, but we decided to finally make the trip this time.
From Marrakech, Uncle Abdullah drove us into the High Atlas mountains through the Tichka Pass. I have never been on a road like it, even in Costa Rica. The elevation at the top is 2260 meters (7415 feet). I was a little worried about altitude sickness since we started at about 450 meters above sea level in Marrakech, but I didn’t mention it to anyone so they couldn’t use it as an excuse to complain unless it was really true.
Nobody felt any ill effects of the altitude, but Ben was very anxious about the road. The road winds through the mountains and the views are absolutely gorgeous. There are guard rails in some areas, and in others there are either very low stone walls, no guard rails at all, or smashed guard rails where someone went over the side. Uncle Abdullah said that only happens in winter. When there is snow on the road, there are gates which close the Tichka Pass, and snowplows to clear the snow. It was strange to see snowplows in Morocco, when the temperatures were over 100 degrees. In July there is no snow on the mountains and the rivers are mostly all dry.
Most of the drivers were pretty careful going through the Tichka Pass, but there were large trucks, buses, and donkeys to contend with. Some of the box trucks had additional stuff strapped on top, making them extremely top-heavy. The very mountainous part of the trip is 30 kilometers long, so following a slow truck is not an option and cars are passing other vehicles all the time. That’s a little scary. There was a lot of “Insha’Allah (we won’t fall over the side)” coming from the back seat.
Once we got through the pass we stopped at a cafe for a drink and a bathroom break at Café Assanfou. And by “drink” I mean Fanta, Kooka (Coke), Hawai, or Sidi Ali (brand of bottled water). I learned to order “Sidi Ali mzduda” which means a closed (sealed) bottle of water to make sure that it has not been refilled from the tap. The local water can make us sick even though the Moroccans drink it. I hate to drink so much bottled water, adding to the plastic bottle and plastic bag problem of Morocco, but I hate spending my vacation on the toilet even more.
About 13 km past the café was the turnoff to Telouet. The road was pretty good and not too scary…a little bumpy but no problem to get there by car. It was 20 km to the Glaoui Kasbah, which was our destination. I think it took about 3 hours to get there from Marrakech. We had originally planned to go to Ourzazate where there is a movie studio but decided that was too far, especially with the side trip to the kasbah.
At the kasbah we met Rachid, who was our guide for a very informative tour. In Morocco, there are always people offering to guide you somewhere in return for money, but Rachid is not the typical Moroccan guide. He spoke English very well, and knew all about the history of the kasbah. Without him we would have just wandered around without learning about the various areas of the kasbah, the history of Pasha Glaoui, or the surrounding area. Rachid is now my Facebook friend so if any of you decide to go to Telouet, I can hook you up with Rachid. He said that we can have couscous with his family the next time we come. 🙂
Here is some history about the Pasha Glaoui. I think Rachid should write a little book about the kasbah to sell to tourists because there isn’t a lot of information collected in one place and it would be great to have something to take home since it’s hard to keep all the facts straight.
Heading into the kasbah:
Our guide, Rachid, with the one and only key to the kasbah. The guard was at the door collecting the 20 dirham entry fee and of course I asked about the key. He pulled it out from the secret hiding place under the blanket he was sitting on, and let Adlani and me try it out.
There are three kasbahs but two of them are crumbling.
The ceiling and skylight of the third kasbah:
Storks nesting on top of the roof:
I love this beautiful zellij column:
The area below where I’m standing was the prison:
The pasha used to sit at this window and watch the fantasia:
The mellah (Jewish quarter) through the kasbah window:
Families of some of the original residents still live at the kasbah:
Beautiful plaster arch:
Near this courtyard (just inside the door) is where the justice would sit to resolve any disputes:
The cedar ceilings, plaster work, and zellij are amazing:
Continuing the zellij around a corner takes skill:
The third kasbah will fall to ruin like the first two if something isn’t done to help preserve it.
