Our journey to Marrakech went smoothly – the highway was in great shape and there wasn’t too much traffic.  It was amazing to see the changes as we went from the coastal city of Mohammedia, past the metropolis of Casablanca, through rich farmland, and then into the more arid landscape north of Marrakech.  We saw farms with animals, as well as fields of corn, grapes, olive trees, potatoes, and onions, but when we got farther south the only thing that was growing was a type of cactus that has a fruit called karmous en sada (aka karmous en hindi) – or prickly pear.  I have yet to taste it, but we saw A LOT of them growing beside the highway.  Apparently in addition to food and animal feed, it is now used in medicines and cosmetics (here’s a BBC article on it).  It’s nice to see a product that grows naturally in Morocco benefit the local people.

Here’s a ton of cactus that has been planted around this mountain.  Someone is obviously capitalizing on the height by renting out the antenna space too:

This is the way you usually find the cactus…used as fences:

Barren landscape:

Small village:

A bigger village:

A big river, by Moroccan standards:

We made it to Marrakech with one stop to change money, and one stop at a rest area.  The money-changing was uneventful…I could have done it without my Moroccan translator.  When I left, the guy said, “Have a good day!”  It’s really unusual to hear English spoken here so it always makes me smile when someone makes an attempt.  I think they feel the same way about my attempts at Arabic.  The security at the bank was tight…we had to be buzzed in and out, and a security guard watched our entire transaction. 

The rest areas along the highway are very modern and similar to the ones we saw in South Africa – they’re called Afriquia.  There is a gas station, a small café with outside seating, a little playground, and squat toilets.  The teenagers hemmed and hawed about using them but decided they couldn’t wait…Norah held it.  She will eventually break down and do it. 

Uncle Abdullah wearing my shirt:

Toll ticket:

Our cars at the rest area:

Cars heading home from Europe (no wonder Ben wasn’t worried about the stuff on top of our car!):

The hotel check-in was nowhere near as smooth.  I used Google Maps on my laptop in the car to get us close…at least on the right road.  This whole area is called the Palmeraie, but there are all different parts – the golf resort, the residences, a Holiday Inn, the apartment hotel (where we were headed), and some other facilities.  We asked at least 6 people for directions and kept driving everywhere to find that we were in the wrong place.  Finally we called the reception desk and they gave us more directions.  When we arrived at the gate they told us to use, the gatekeeper was praying so we waited until he was done, only to find that it wasn’t the right gate.  We finally found the reception building and thought our problems were solved.

It wasn’t very busy but it took a while for them to get to us.  The next problem was that I had booked the hotel in Morocco and didn’t have a printed receipt.  I had already confirmed that they had the reservation so I don’t know why they needed a piece of paper, but I attempted 5 times to email the confirmation to the reception desk (while I was standing at the reception desk) and they never received it.  Finally the woman gave up and told us to wait a few minutes and someone would take us to our apartments.

On the 2-minute drive to the apartment in the van we lost both of the cars that were following us, so I arrived at our apartment with 3 kids and everyone else was missing.  The van driver left us on the side of the road and drove the van back looking for them.  Finally we were all together and shown to our apartment.  The bellman didn’t seem to think it was strange that there were 10 of us standing in a 2-bedroom apartment, and when I mentioned that I had booked two 2-bedroom apartments, not 1, he was very surprised.  I showed him the confirmation on the computer, and Ben, his brother Hassan, and Aliya headed back to reception for another wait.  Eventually they were told that there were no clean apartments ready for us, and that they would call when an apartment was ready.  While picking up the random socks and underwear strewn about the apartment, I noticed that there were no towels or pillowcases.  I called Ben who was still at reception, and he was told that it costs an extra $7/person/day for towels.  WHAT???  I would rather go to Marjane and buy nice towels to take back to Mohammedia than pay $70/day for towels for 10 people.  Eventually a lady showed up with 4 towels and 4 pillow cases.  Hopefully they didn’t add them to my bill.

Aside from the wait for our 2^nd apartment and a slow-draining bathroom sink, the apartment is actually pretty nice.  It has a beautiful veranda with a table and chairs, a sitting room, a tiny kitchen, 2 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms.  It got mixed reviews online but our options were somewhat limited because of the size of our entourage, our budget, and our swimming pool and restaurant requirements.    

I will post some hotel photos soon, but right now we’re off to Marrakech.

Today was a quiet day in preparation for the journey to Marrakech tomorrow.  It’s only about a 2 1/2-hour drive, but in Morocco that’s a journey.  Our entourage has grown to 10 people (it almost became 11)…our family of 5 plus Uncle Abdullah to drive us, our two nieces (14 and 16), one nephew (10), and my brother-in-law Hassan to drive the second car.  I made the arrangements for two 2-bedroom apartments at a resort just north of Marrakech about 48 hours ago, and we’re headed out after breakfast.  Both cars needed last-minute repairs today so I’ll have my fingers crossed for the whole trip.

This morning I did some work and Ben took Adlani and Norah to visit a friend for lunch.  Aliya laid around watching TV.  This afternoon my sister-in-law Bahija (the one who lives in Holland) took Aliya and me to the regular market in town (not the weekly souk) because I wanted to buy another couscousiere and a pan for b’stilla.  Mission accomplished.  It’s very weird being the only non-Moroccans in sight…there’s a lot of staring and men saying, “Bonjour” in case I speak French and happen to end up being their ticket out of Morocco.  Or maybe they’re just being nice.

This is the shop where I bought the couscousiere:

Sarah, I thought of you when I saw this pile of “rocks” which is another type of salt.  The vendor breaks off a piece with a hammer and it is ground at home with a mortar and pestle.  Want some, or do you want to stick to the white stuff?

We’ve been having a tough time getting Adlani to eat anything, as he is the pickiest eater on Earth.  His approved list includes hot dogs, chicken nuggets (specific ones), fries, all with ketchup of course, mac-and-cheese (only Kraft), cereal, milk, peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, cheese sandwiches (only American cheese and not grilled), pasta with butter, a specific type of granola bars, turkey sausage, scrambled eggs, apples, oranges, peaches, strawberries, Trader Joe’s meatballs, and the occasional raw carrot (but only with dip), plus just about any cookies, candy, chips, cake, or ice cream.  I’m pretty sure that is the complete list.

We brought fluff, cereal, and granola bars from home, as well as panko to make chicken nuggets.  For the first few days we were hoping that he’d get hungry and eat the delicious Moroccan food, but the only thing he would eat was fried bread called m’smn, french fries, scrambled eggs, and pastries.  I brought vitamins but he was getting almost no protein.  The hot dogs were too pink, the milk was too creamy, and the rest was not on the approved list.  Watermelon and another melon called “sweehla” are in season so they’re served after just about every meal, but he won’t eat them. 

Ben broke down a couple of days ago and took him to McDonalds.  Yes, Mohammedia now has a McDonalds.  Adlani had the sad face on again today in hopes that Ben would believe that he was on the brink of starvation and take him again, but I freaked out.  I think it’s crazy for the kid to be eating food with almost no nutritional value instead of the healthy and delicious food Ben’s sisters make for every meal.  So we went to the European market – Marjane, to look for stuff Adlani would eat.  We bought two types of hot dogs that were less pink, we finally found milk that is not too creamy (although he swears the Nesquick gave him diarrhea so I guess he’ll be sticking to white milk), pasta, and a couple of different types of nuggets (against my better judgement).  I also bought boneless chicken, which I coated with Panko and cooked as soon as I got home.  He wolfed down my homemade nuggets and I felt better.  I guess we could have skipped the processed nuggets but I didn’t know for sure he’d eat the homemade ones.  It should be a lot of fun to find stuff to feed him in Marrakech.

Marjane is just as I remembered it – like a giant Super-Walmart.  They even have a section for adult beverages, although it was closed when we were there.  Here are some photos from today’s shopping trip:

Quail eggs:

Jars of meat in fat (gag):

The liquor store is closed for the day:

I was shocked to see boxed Harira mix and people actually buying it.  This soup is a staple of Ramadan, which starts soon, but I can’t imagine serving up the boxed version after a long day of no food or water.

I was surprised to see gluten-free options:

Dough for b’stilla:

Chicken guts:

The bulk section:

You can even buy undies:

Send us some good travel vibes for tomorrow.  It’s about 100 degrees in Marrakech so I really don’t want to be sitting by the side of the road.

Today is Sunday, which is the day of the weekly souk (market) in Mohammedia.  I think at some point it was the main shopping opportunity for the week, but there are now many small stores, a daily market, and even a “European market” called Marjane, which is basically like a Super-Walmart, selling all kinds of food as well as housewares and electronics.  I think Marjane is too expensive for the average Moroccan family…I haven’t been there yet on this trip but when I go I’ll report back on who is shopping there.

We drove by the location of the souk yesterday and it was completely deserted.  Today there were hundreds of vendors and countless shoppers.  It’s like a giant flea market except with very narrow paths, lots of yelling, and unexpected animal parts, like rows of brains, displays of cows’ feet, tongues, etc.  The souk is roughly divided into an area for fruit and vegetables, meats, spices, housewares, clothes, and gold.  Mixed in there were vendors selling mint tea, roasted chick peas, fresh bread, sandwiches, hardware and car parts, and corn being grilled right on the ground beside the walkway – yikes!

It feels totally chaotic, and the street beside the souk is filled with people, donkey carts, scooters, and cars flying by.  I’m a wanderer so I had no problem meandering through the market checking out the options, but Ben was on a mission.  His sisters said that they didn’t need anything, so his mission was to get all of my picture-taking done.  I realized right away that whenever possible, it’s easiest to buy a little something and then ask if it’s ok to take a photo.  I have never been turned down for a photo when I’ve bought something.  So we bought mint, parsley, salt, candy, squash, tea, and roasted chick peas.  When I was alone and I approached someone, especially a young person, and asked in Arabic if I could take a photo, they all said “yes”.

The tough nuts to crack are the butchers.  They have really interesting displays of meat – no refrigeration…the animals are blessed and killed in the morning and sold the same day.  They sell every part of the animal.  The parts that can’t be sold are given to beggars who go stall-to-stall asking for a handout.  Since we’re never shopping for meat, we can’t use the purchase technique to get a photo.  Last time I was at the souk, I asked several butchers if I could take a photo and they all said no.  Finally one shop allowed me to take some photos, and I shocked them by whipping out a small battery-operated printer and printing their photos for them on an abandoned butcher’s table.  After that the entire souk was calling me to take their photo as word got around.

Today when we were walking through the butchers’ area I spotted a familiar face and he recognized us at the same time.  It was the butcher who let me take his photo 6 years ago.  He let me take some more photos, and I’m going to print them and bring them back next week.  I even have the original ones on my external hard drive.  It was surreal to see him again but things don’t change much here.  I’m going to print some of the other photos from today too and if I see the vendors again I will give them their photos.  It’s a good way to make friends.

The street that passes the souk:

Donkeys are used A LOT:

Mint tea…this guy was really upset that Ben gave him 20 dirhams ($2.24) because it was too much.

Giant squash:

Salt:

More photos from today on the following post.  The computer’s giving me trouble.

Saffron:

Chicken peas and fava beans:

Pesticides and rat poisons:

Honeycomb:

Hardware store:

One of the many tents for the gold merchants:

Dates and nuts:

Roasting corn:

Holy crap that’s a lot of carrots!

Fresh bread:

Norah didn’t know what to make of the cows’ feet:

Tripe and assorted goodies:

Group photo with our butcher friends:

I got to hold the knife:

The wagon back to town (we took a taxi):

The souk is a dusty place:

Today we got up early and went to Rabat, the capital of Morocco.  It’s about a 45-minute drive, and Ben’s uncle Abdullah has apparently become our personal driver because he went with us again today and is also planning to come along to Marrakech.  It’s nice to have someone who knows where they’re going because the driving can be a little crazy.

In Rabat we visited the Mausoleum of King Mohammed V, and La Tour (Tower) Hassan.  The pillars in the courtyard of the minaret are what’s left of a huge mosque that was destroyed in an earthquake.  The mausoleum is beautifully decorated with wood, stucco, and zellij mosaic, and of course the gorgeous bronze doors.

After touring the mausoleum we rode the new tram that crosses the river to Salé.  I had read about the medersa (school) and Grande Mosque within the Salé medina and was intent on finding them.  Ben didn’t want to ask anyone which stop to get off the tram, so we ended up going a couple of stops too far and making our way through the medina on foot.  I’ll bet we walked 5 miles in total, but it was worth it.  The school and mosque were built in 1333, and the school is extremely well-preserved (I couldn’t enter the mosque because I’m not Muslim).  We were able to go into the “student cells,” tiny rooms where the students lived.  The place was just about deserted, so the attendant showed me how to lock the front door (you’ll have to check my other blog in a couple of days for those photos).

Inside one of the tiny student cells:

Inside the mosque:

Salé from the roof:

We were sooo tired that we didn’t even stop for a late lunch…we just drove home and as usual had an amazing dinner waiting for us.  I could really get used to this!

Moments from today…

Passing a huge field of sunflowers beside the highway.

The welder who was just holding a little piece of plastic in front of his eyes instead of wearing a welding helmet.

Asking Uncle Abdullah what the men at the rotary had in their wheelbarrows – “cows’ stomachs.”

The amazing ocean view in Rabat, with shanties lining the road – pretty nice real estate for a shanty town.

A modern tunnel in Rabat – Ben was shocked.

Prior planning promotes perfect performance…lots of teachable moments today.

Seeing a guy holding down a mattress by laying on it in the back of a small pick-up truck.

Being asked to take photos of teenage boys, and unsuccessfully asking for their email addresses, until one of them suddenly said “Facebook?” and they all started repeating, “Facebook” and writing down their names for me.  Unfortunately their names are very common on Facebook and I can’t find them.

The school with chalkboards hanging out the windows…each student’s number was listed and showed who passed.

Aliya’s comment, “Those stairs are a fire hazard!”

Uncle Abdullah getting hip to my search for cool doors, and then showing me every door of interest along the way.  Through this archway I found my favorite:

Trying to explain to the kids why the beeping cars were driving through town with the “bloody rag” after the wedding, without stealing the thunder of the 5^th-grade health teacher.

The kids hunting for pieces of broken tile along the street – a cool collection!

Teaching the kids how to use the squat-toilet.  Norah was definitely not a fan.

The henna ladies who accosted us, told us they would do a little design on the girls for free despite our protests, and then b*tching when Ben gave them too little money.  The amount they were asking for their “free” designs would have paid for hands and feet in Mohammedia.  Annoying!