Tanger - The Heilu and Weida show!

Tanger (Morocco)

24 JUL - 25 JUL

It would be fair to say that I held no great expectations for Tanger/Tangier prior to arriving from Chefchaouen. I had heard that it was a bit of a dive, an old style port town with a seedy Moroccan sailor type of vibe. It would also be fair to say that when we hit the outskirts of Tangier and rounded one of it's greatest touristic drawcards, an almighty open sewer approximately 5kms from the centre of town, well then JJ also acquired the feeling that this place could quite rival Phonsovan, Laos, for the biggest dump of nothingness above the equator. I'll still never quite understand the man  that I saw sitting by the edge of the sewer staring at it like it was one of the greatest sights he'd ever witnessed, and with that said, if it actually was, then he must have a life of surprises just waiting for him around the corner, literally.

Pulling up at the bus stop which is right on the edge of the port of Tangier, the first thing that someone told me or rather  for me to do was  to put my mobile away, out of the sight of nibble fingers, 'if it's out and about then don't expect to see it in your posession for too much longer'. We looked around for a cab, which was not too difficult to find and then showed him the destination of Dar Jameel, which I suspect was not to be too far away. Also immediately the cab driver motions to another guy, he jumps in, explains that his name is Abdul, that he works right next door to Dar Jameel and that he'll show us the way. 'Ok Abdul, you're apparently the man' - it's funny, but on reflection I think we got a little played with the taxi driver act, no matter, the end result didn't end up being all that bad.

Off we shoot from the port, up the hill into the medina, making turns in small streets and alleyways that the donkeys in Fez would have looked twice at. Both the cab driver and Abdul laugh when JJ gasps at one of the turns, have go to say though, there was a little bit of 'Moroccan crazy' in the way that they both laughed in tandem. Several right hand turns later we are literally back at the port, on the very same road where we were dropped off, approximately 20mtrs away. Upon questioning our guides it was explained to us that the way that we travelled is 'the only way' you can drive up into the medina, 'Aha, and so the full buggering now begins!'. We make it to the riad a few mins later and the cab driver asks us for 50 dirhams, ok, so not so bad. I go to pay Abdul for his assistance in carrying bags and what not, he says, 'Don't worry, you pay me later, for now go in the riad, change, see the view and I'll meet you later'...meaning ofcourse that he'll be waiting at the front door and will hijack our tails the moment we exit.

Tanger beach from Dar Jameel - Morocco

Tanger medina from Dar Jameel - Morocco

Tanger beach from Dar Jameel - Morocco

Thankfully the riad is fantastic and it does have a great view of the port, the main beach of Tangier and the medina which rises in tandem with the hill above it. The riad itself is also quite colourful and maybe for that point alone it would have been interesting to have stayed an additional day rather than having done an overnight hit and run mission. We also later discovered that it was possible to do a 35min run from Tangier to the Spanish port of Tarifa, and I have to admit that it would have been interesting to say that you had lunch and dinner on two different continents.

Welcome to Tanger - 'playas'...word...

Dar Jameel interior - Tanger - Morocco

Dar Jameel interior - Tanger - Maroc

After getting settled, JJ and I exited the riad and walked almost like zombies into the waiting arms of Abdul. He waited about 90 mins for us, and both JJ and I wondered internally how long he would have actually waited until he pulled the pin. Once in his clutches 'IT' begins. Abdul explains the itinerary that he's already mentally created for us, 'OK, so now we go to the beach and then I'll take you for a walk through the medina, and then to belly dancing on the hill where you'll have a great view over to Spain'. JJ and I roll our eyes, like 'What type of 'you're dreaming pills' did you take this morning?'. We explain that all we want is a good seafood dinner down on the beach and that was going to be all basically. Abdul says ok but then launches into a 'medina tour' again  - this cheeky monkey, (that one was for you Jet), is going to be a little persistent!

Walking down onto the beach and steering us into a nice restaurant with a decent view we were admittedly happy with the choice that Abdul had made. Then he goes on, 'Now WE'LL eat and then I'LL take you on a tour of the medina'. I respond by saying 'WE'LL?', well no Abdul, you're not having dinner with us bro. I explain to Abdul then we'd like to have some privacy and the two of us would like to have dinner alone. 'Oh, ok, should I meet you here in an hour or so?'...'No mate, we don't need you hey'...after a bit of back and forth Abdul gets the idea that he's not wanted and that his pay day will not be so grand. 'Ok he says, I will go now but you need to pay me for my services'. If I was feeling a little pissy or wanted to have a go at the guy I would have told him off, but eh, the restaurant was ok, I shot him 50 dirhams and that was the last we saw of Seedy Abdul of Tanger.

Tanger sunset

Several margaritas and an awesome seafood dinner later, staring down the beach, JJ comments on the stage that's set up on the main beach and the Arabic music that's being blasted - there looks to be quite a crowd. A little begrudgingly JJ convinces me to go for a walk and get into the thick of the action. Now admittedly from the get go I'm not into it, the tunes sound like scizophrenic Serbian turbo folk music and that type of vibe makes me go a little homicidal. The beach is full however and there's young Moroccans pulling off weird and crazy Arabic moves that only they now how to do. I can't explain their actions but lets say that the dance  style is uniquely Arabic and more than just a little amusing to me. JJ is getting her groove on and I'm standing there, looking at the stage, trying to get my head into the rythyms and the young Moroccans bemused by our appearance until the main honcho starts screaming out, 'heilu, heilu, heilu, heilu, heilu' - the crowd are throwing their hands up in aeroplane jelly fashion. A little later in this Arabic cacophony he rips out 'weidu, weidu, weidu, weidu'...who is this guy? Is he like the Moroccan Ricky Martin or something? In any case, JJ and I figure that it's something akin to self promotion or a bit of a band shout out and that the crew is called 'Heilu & Weida'....man, that band name covered quite a few miles over the next week in Paris. Still, by the time 'Heilu and Weida' were done and dusted the crowd had been beaten out of looking for anything but a Moroccan whiskey, aka mint tea, to recover from the excitement overdose.

The 'Heilu & Weida' crowd, going off...or something

The crowd expected big things from Heilu & Weida - boy, did they deliver!

BANG!!! Photo bomb your own shot why don't you!

As the gig-a-thon ends we walk up the beach and dip our toes for a while back into the Meditteranean, just to say that we've taken a swim on both sides. Walking back to our riad via a glaciery we dose up with couple of our favourite ice creams and make it back to the riad somewhere close to 1:30am. It's early enough for us to crash out, our flight to Paris is at 9:00am and a few hours of sleep wouldn't exactly go astray. We turn out the lightsand charge down. We say thank you to Tangier, you didn't give us much but you gave us Heilu and Weida, for that we will be eternally grateful!

JJ takes on both sides

Chefchaouen - 'I lost to destiny in a hand of poker'

Chefchaouen (Morocco)

22 JUL - 24 JUL

So JJ and I were sitting in a cafe one night in Chefchaouen, having an over sugared mint tea, which in itself isn't bad because mint teas are just NOT BAD, at any time! Carefully sipping on probably the 63rd mint tea we've had in the last 6-7 days, I hear a guy just over my right shoulder chatting to a lady in what I understood to be Italian. I turn around to see a middle aged man, face worn and beaten by the winds and sands of the  Sahara, darkened eyes, head scarf and Arabic style clothing, chatting fluently to this lady. Now this guy is intruiging, I turn a couple of  times to just look at him, he was just that type of character. JJ also found him interesting for some reason and pointed him out to me. Don't know what it was but he had 'something' about him.

Blue door series - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Blue door series - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Blue door series - Chefchaouen - Morocco

The next day JJ and I had made our way out of the medina and up the hill/mountain that provided to essential backbone and backdrop to the charming town of Chefchaouen. There wasn't any real reason to make our way up other than the fact that there was bound to be a great view and the fact that the very much out of place Atlas hotel would in all certainty be able to provide us with the alcoholic hit that two desparado's such as ourselves needed. We sat in the midday sun for sometime, the temperature gauge climbing all the while as we downed a few beers and whatever else may have made the hit list.

Walking back from the hotel to the medina via a type of 'no man's land', JJ and I somehow managed to stumble onto the topic of destiny and I mentioned that for some reason whilst I thought it to be a nice concept and that I'd like to somehow believe in it I couldn't quite get my head around to the point of accepting it. Anyway, we chatted and discussed theories before breaking through the walls of the medina and aiming for the cooling waters of the falls on the eastern breach of the town.

Dr. Destiny (Hammou) and JJ - I think he was gunning for JJ to be his 3rd wife or something

We passed through most of the blue town, reaching the far end relatively quickly. At one point we passed a shop that seemed a little different from the sheer fact that there wasn't a some hawker trying to pull you in so as to offload their wares. I turned to have a look inside and stopped JJ in her tracks , asking her to come in also. As our eyes adjusted to the darkened room we looked around the shop and then down to the floor in front of us. There sitting in front of us was the engaging Arabic guy that we had spotted the night before. He asks us to sit down immediately and offers both myself and JJ a slice of the watermelon that he was just cutting up. I politely refuse and JJ accepts after a couple of requests from the man. He comments to us pretty much immediately that we look familiar to him and that he must have seen us recently. We point out that we sat behind him during his conversation with the Italian woman the evening before, 'Ahhh yes, now I remember'. He starts talking, commenting generally on his beliefs and his thoughts on destiny. I'm kind of engaged by what he's saying, fully amused by the fact that this was a topic that I'd just been discussing and had kind of indirectly sort out this guy for no particular reason at all. Destiny 1 - Elisher 0 at this point.

Hammou,(our new teacher of all things soulful and destiny related), then asks us to view his shop and choose anything that we're compelled to buy, or rather, are drawn to. JJ, after a little looking actually does find an 'interesting cooking/kitchen' implement for her brother, which was pretty much the precis that her brother Jason had provided before leaving Sydney. A short negotiation commences and in the end the theory of the 'democratic price' works out, good for the buyer, good for the seller, everyone leaves happy and the art of destiny remains intact.

Chefchaouen - Morocco

Chefchaouen - Morocco

Walking back to the falls we spend the later part of the afternoon with our feet freezing in the cold mountain water and the rest of our body getting burnt by the violent African sun. As the day closes out we wander back in to town and chow down on plates of fries...that's it, just fries. It's strange ,but no matter how good Moroccan food is, and it really is, sometimes you just need to get back to basics for a night.

Chechaouen - Morocco

23 JUL

Chefchaouen in some areas, and from some angles looks like more of a movie set than a town. It's just one of those place where the looks are specific and picture perfect. You could easily imagine a spaghetti western being shot on it's streets, shady Moroccan characters strolling into the main plaza on their horses, holding up at a a cafe or bar for a few hours and then perhaps setting on a tourist for a dual at high noon. In reality however the gun totting Moroccan cowboys are the restaurant staff that try to pull you into their establishment at every opportunity. Your part in this dual, as a tourist, lies in the ammunition you have your disposal and the ability you have to shoot down these requests with amusing retorts or anecdotes. If you fail, well you could very well be eating a helping of kefta or lamb tagine that really wasn't on your agenda.

Shades of blue - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Shades of blue - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Successfully dodging the touts, JJ and I take a stroll through the kasbah and then walk through most of the town, appreciating what it has to offer. As today is Friday, the Saturday equivalent in the Islamic faith, the streets are more quiet then usual, people are even more relaxed than the 'busier' days of the week. We walk the streets of blue, appreciating the diversity, the scenery and the sense of calm that this town has to offer.

Finishing out the day we head back up the mountain to the Atlas in order to catch the sunset and to get that alcohol fix that dependants like us so dearly need - it ain't all bad here in Morocco, but damn, they make the infedels work for their drinks!

 Sunset in Chefchaouen - Morocco

24 JUL

This was our last day in Chefchaouen, kind of a shame because it was such a great place, but that's the game of travel. We were out  and at the bus station by 3pm, ready to jump another ride for 2hr stint north to the port town of Tangier. It was at the bus station that 'destiny' played a little bit of a trick on me and went up in its ongoing 'proof of concept' match with me 2-0. So I'm sitting there with JJ, having myself a coffee, waiting for the bus from Fes to show up. I turn around and there stands Abdul, the shady little bugger that took me on a guided tour of Fes for a full day two years ago, please see the 2008 link of (Abdul the shady bastard). I walk a few steps and stand right in front of him, he immediately recognises me but can't quite place where it was - it takes a few seconds but then he connects. He gives me half a hug and then we chat for a little while, something akin to 'how the f*** did this happen?'.  I was only telling JJ a few days ago in Fes about Abdul and how he had guided me around and how I thought he may have been dodgy. Now, in a totally different foreign Moroccan town on pretty much my last day in Morocco the 16 yr old kid of two years ago is now an 18 yr old man wearing strange happy pants. He tells me that he's travelling with his German girlfriend, heading north or something like that...strange thing is that I don't see a girlfriend anywhere or any luggage for that manner...but hey, isn't that the Moroccan way, kind of dodgy, kind of shady but always good fun. He takes down my e-mail address and adds that he might be visiting Australia and New Zealand sometime in the future, 'we'll see Abdul, ...we'll see'. It was kind of a bizarre occurrence , a coincidence perhaps....or maybe destiny just out bluffing me once again.

Chefchaouen - Where the Blue Man group came to die

Chefchaouen (Morocco)

21 JUL

A place that sounds as though it should be a location in a Star Wars movie has got to be a relatively cool place, right? A few years back I heard of a place in the northern part of Morocco, located in a part of the Rif mountains where the streets and buildings were painted blue, where the locals were the most chilled out in Morocco and where the reason behind their calm nature had a lot to do with the free availability of quality hash. Understanding those qualities and doing my best to convince JJ that a blue town was well worth travelling to we through the hamlet of Chefchaouen onto our Moroccan agenda.

Splitting from my parents in Fes this morning and allowing them to battle it out to Casablanca on their own, JJ and I hopped onto a CTM special and aimed ourselves 3 hrs north of Fes. The ride up being generally quite pleasant with the landscape changing by the same degree that it had on the train journey in. The last hour of the journey becoming quite hilly and even mountainous in part.

The first sight that you catch of Chefchaouen driving in is from about 3kms out of town. You come in over a rise high above the town and then wham, you see the town pretty much spread out in front of you. From the way that the buildings are constructed you can tell that it's a Moroccan town, all there are specific Andulusian influences that give it a special touch, making it a little different from it's southern cousins. Interesting also, the town is pushed back into a mountain cove, so you have the medina (old town) kind of built down the sides of two mountain peaks, almost as if the town had deliberately backed itself into a corner. I guess the hypothesis being that if anyone was going to the attack the town, well then they'd be foolhardy or desperately insane to come at them from the mountain ridges, so any 'real' threat would obviously be spotted way in advance.

Arrivng in Chefchaouen in the early evening, we had enough time to unwind a little and then take a walk through the medina, which is where our riad was also located.What you immediately notice at ground level is the fact that this town IS blue, and a variety of shades of blue. Apparently the reasoning for this is historical. Many centuries ago Chefchaouen was a Jewish settlement and the inhabitants chose to paint their town blue, a colour synonymous with the Jewish faith. When the town 'changed hands' or so to speak, the inhabitants decided to keep up the tradition and maintained the blue colour, thus the survival of a blue town high in the Rif mountains.

Chefchaouen - blue man street - Morocco

Chefchaouen - Morocco - you could be  forgiven for thinking that you were hanging out somewhere in the European Alps, the setting was that engaging.

Sunset - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Feeling blue - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Sunset - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Dar Gabriel - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Sunset - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Chefchaouen - Morocco

Once again, this place seemed to be far different from the larger cities of Marrakech and Fes further south. First of all the location was absolutely stunning. If it wasn't for the ever present Moroccan flags, the incessant request by shopkeepers to check out their wares and the insane number of tagines on display, well you could be forgiven for thinking that you were hanging out somewhere in the European Alps, the setting was that engaging.

Having had a late lunch in the main square we were advised of a waterfall/cascade/river that was located at the eastern end of the town. JJ and I made our way through blues territory and found ourselves a more than quaint mountain cascade which appeared to be 'the' afternoon meeting spot for the locals also. We sat there for quite some time, watching the sun set over the ridge above us and daring to dangle our feet into the freezing cold water that also flowed from the same area. We had only been in Chefchaouen for a couple of hours but we were already satisfactorily 'chilled out', quite obviously this place had just a 'little something' going  for it, that much was obvious.

Fes - ConFeZsions of a drunken camelsteiger

Fes (Morocco)

19 JUL - 20 JUL

We made a valiant attempt to start the day by having breakfast on the roof terrace of the riad Zamane. Valiant in the sense that by the time the clock had struck 8am the sun was already blazing and we were pushing the mid 30's mark, probably not the most favoured way to chill out with a fresh glass of orange juice and a coissant.

The prospective heat of the morning and midday sun kept my parents within the confines of their 17 degree air conditioned room, under covers, under blankets and hidden from the Moroccan disco inferno that attacked their space from just behind the stone riad walls. JJ and I, defined by the 'hardness' of our own internal mechanisms, please also see (stubborn as two mules on a hunt for fairy floss..?), decided that we were going to go out and attack Fes for what it had to offer.

Streets of Fes - Morocco - where dialing for a taxi will get you a donkey, home delivered

We commenced our self designed journey at the blue gates,(Bab Boujloud), the famous entrance to the medina. It's usually at this point that you encounter 'tour guide' spruikers, telling you how they specifically have the skills to guide you through the myriad of roads, alleyways and side streets, and in all honesty, for a medina that is 19kms squared in size, containing approximately 400,000 people and has somewhere in the vicinity of 9800 recognised streets, you probably do need a guide in order to make the most of your time. As I said, 'most people' would accept this offer for assistance gracefully. The guide that we encountered at the gate was doing his best to put the word on us, attacking us with his big Moroccan welcome, quoting a few stats and asking us to slow down so that we could at least hear what he had to say. My man, apologies, but the both of us were on a mission and we had no time to waste, we cleared his verbal clutches only to be thrown a parting passive aggressive line that went something like, 'a man in a hurry is always dead'...well yes, that may be the case, but if we were now dead then who the hell were you going to guide around the medina? What's more, do lines like that really get tourists to stop in their tracks and recant on their decisions? I'll need to contact the Moroccan bureau of statistics for those numbers, watch this space.

 Fes - Morocco

 Fes - Morocco

Walking down one of the two main roads of Fes I had it in my mind that we'd aim for one of the tanneries that are located in the heart of the medina. Not the most difficult place to find, but not the easiest either as it involves a little local knowledge with some twists and turns, something that I didn't have , although I do have a relatively decent internal guidance system with decent orientations skills, so taking on the ultimate test was something that I was happy with.

Now Fes is one of those old style towns that has particularly small streets, fit for only pedestrian traffic and donkeys (their version of a taxi), high stone walls, twists, bends, shops of intrigue and confusion, markets, mosques and all things else Moroccan. It's an old town that's mysterious and interuiging in it's own right, different to the very 'in your face' nature of Marrakech, these guys are more subtle, less pushy but probably as insistent, and yet is still has a quietness and calmness about it. There appears to be a lot hidden behind the high street walls of Fes that you don't get to see, an element that always has you kind of guessing at the possibilities.

Tannery - Fes - Morocco

Tannery - Fes - Morocco

 Tannery - Fes - Morocco

After walking for something close to an hour and two refreshment stops, JJ and I managed to find the tannery. Nearly on our own, we were kind of guided in by a local over the last 100 mtrs, very much in the same way that a local harbour pilot takes control of a tanker or cruise liner in their home waters. So, what's so amazing about the tannery? Well, it's probably not so much the manner in which they dye the coloured hides, although it looks to be particularly labour intensive and damn hard work if this is your chosen style of employment but more so its the vibrancy of the colours of each of the clay dyeing vats and the look of the medina that immediately surrounds it. Aesthetically it's an amazing sight but the accompanying smell is none too appealing, something to do with the copious amounts of pigeon droppings that they use to treat the animal skins prior to dyeing. I'm not quite up to speed on that element of the process but there's always Wikipedia for personal interest.

Having being committed to Fes success, having taking on this headspin of a place and nearly scoring a clear victory, JJ and I headed back to the riad for a few drinks before jumping into a cab with the parents for an afternoon panorama tour of the town from outside of the medina walls.

Panoramic view of Fes

It's tough in the ceramics business....seriously, it is!!!

Ummmm.....yeah

20 JUL - Walk this way

Sunrise - Fes - Morocco

The miraculous Manuel (aka Abdul the great), the man of riad Zamane that can organise anything for you before you've even thought of it, hooked us up with a half day walking door of the old town on this day. My parents having remained indoors for the majority of the previous day and have gauged the morning temperature of Fes on this day as being quite comfortable, joined us for a 4hr expedition into the  heart of the medina.

Medersa - Fes - Morocco

Oldest university in the world - Fes - Morocco

I think for my parents, Fes more of a relaxed and acceptable type of atmosphere. No speeding motorbikes clipping your heels, no horse drawn carriages about to run you over, no shady Moroccan men waiting to reach deep into your pockets on consent, or even without your consent. Our guide was actually quite good, advising us of the main historical features of the town, the main mosque, the university that is claimed to be the oldest in the world, the various shops of artisans selling uniquely Fes style wares. In fact the first shop that we stopped in within the medina was a carpet co-op that had hundred of luscious hand made carpets of varying quality and style. I could see on entry that the eyes of my mum lit up, and as they say in the classics, 'let's get ready to rumble'.

It was to become a 'carpet-a-thon', Berber made carpets, Jewish made carpets, carpets from the Toureg, carpets that the owners cousin made, carpets that some poor retardo kid from the backstreets of Tanger kind of made. It was a whirlwind of knots, colours and wool. Beads of perspiration running down our faces with the anxiety and pressure of needing the make the critical decision of what would work and  what wouldn't with our house. As the Moroccan whiskey, (see mint tea), settled our nerves and cleared our mind, we made our final decision. Time for negotiation, and then, the ATOMIC BOMB! As dad and I sat back, kind of deliberating, kind of waiting to play the well known Moroccan sport of 'democratic price arrangement', mum was shaking hands with the owner and entering into a binding verbal agreement.Well, that just trumped us all!! Needless to say, the carperts that we've locked in are truly stunning and whilst they may be running on the high side of the prospective range, I'm more than satisfied with the result.

Running on that endorphin high that only females can really appreciate, we moved through the medina with gusto and appreciation. Visiting the tannery once again and spending a little more time with 'our man' Hassan, a person that JJ and I had managed to successfully dodge the day before. A artisan related stops and we were back to the riad Zamane for afternoon session with our good friend Mr Heineken and co.

 Tannery - Fes - Morocco

Later that evening I set up dinner at a riad that was quite close to our own. Two years earlier I had had dinner at the same place and had spent a couple hours of one afternoon happily chatting with the owner Khalid over a mint tea with nothing more than good conversation on the agenda. I took JJ with me to make the reservation early in the afternoon and was happy to be met by Khalid at the door, and then was more than a little surprised when he actually remembered when I had came last time, where we had sat and the fact that I had
written a few words in his guest work (which he was more than happy to show me - kind of strangely amusing to see the words you've written a few years previously in a place that's completely foreign and so far from home).

We ended up having a mammoth dinner at the house of Khalid and as I did two years ago, thanked him graciously for his hospitality and good nature. Winding up our stay in Fes on this evening, this was to be the departure point for my parents who the next day were set to make their way to Belgrade via the short hops of Casablanca and Madrid, and has for JJ and myself, the next day we were heading into the Rif mountains and the small blue town of Chefchaouen.

Fes - 'A man in a hurry is already dead!'

Fes (Morocco)
18 JUL

The old imperial capital of Morocco, Fes or Fez (1912-1956), is a 7hr train raid north-east of Marrakech. It's very much a different place from the hustle and bustle of it's big southern brother, but very much unique in it's own way. On my last visit to Fez back in 2008 I was told that the people of this city view themselves very much as intellectuals, they are the bright sparks of Morocco, or perhaps even the 'upper class' of a rich and diverse country.

On this day my parents, JJ and I, took a ride on the local Moroccan rail line and headed out on a new bearing. Whilst 7 hrs in confined quarters sounds like it may be a drag in all truth it past by relatively quickly. The air conditioning worked intermittently and the cabin that we were in never cooled down to anything that couldn't be regarded as warm but the ever changing landscape outside the window more than made up for that. Moving north from Marrakech you pass through a sparse and relatively arid country for something close to three hours before hitting the coastal city of Casablanca. Just for the record, for anyone that may have romantic notions about what Casablanca offers, recalibrate those thoughts. This city is the business and commercial centre of Morocco and other than a mighty huge mosque that juts out into the Atlantic, it's as boring as batshit. With all due respect, I'm sure it has it's high points, I mean every place in the world has something to offer, but relative to the rest of Morocco, well this is a piece of tofu in comparison to the exotic tagines of Marrakech or Fes.

Hitting Casablanca and heading in a more easterly direction rather than north we pass through the capital of Rabat, then through the town of Sale, and then some other smaller towns where the stops seem to be a little erratic, and then 'IT' happens!

A tallish Moroccan looking man then walks into our cabin, we've just stopped at a place called Sale. He takes the only seat vacant in this six seater cabin and looks around. He chats a little to the Moroccan girl that's sitting next to JJ and then engages us in some good natured banter. He tells us that he's been working in whatever town we've just stopped in and that now he's going back to Fes in order to see his wife and two children. All that this guy is carrying is a large folder which looks as though it's filled with errant pieces of paper, brochures and other paraphenalia. This strikes me as a little odd and immediately I put my 'game face on'. I disengage from the cconversation that he's having with JJ and my parents andstare aimlessly out the window.

The conversation conitunes for a little while and JJ notices that I've shut this guy down, although for the moment she doesn't know why. When the guy gets up and steps out of the cabin for a moment I tell JJ 'I'm not going to be buying anything from this guy', I'm not sure if at that moment she quite knew why I said that. The guys steps back in and then asks us casually, 'So, do you have a taxi from the station'....and now BINGO, his game has commenced. I respond by saying, 'All good mate, our riad has that covered'. He then launches into the facts and figures of Fes, something akin to the Fes Wikipedia lesson,  he then asks if we have a guide for Fes and I respond that the riad has organised that also. This guy then pulls out brochures, timetables, tells us how is parents own a riad in the medina and how one day he will inherit it and how sometime in the not too distant past Bono had stayed there. He tells us that his cousin's grandfather is a guide and he can organise us a good tour - dude, not this time, I know your scam and this 'my brother' is not your day. The deal with these guys is usually this, they earn your trust and hook you up with overpriced 'everything', ripping you off from pillar to post. This method of searching out foreignors on trains is a well known scam and something that I'd read about before my last trip. A few minutes later the guy who had 'apparently purchased a first class seat' gets up and leaves - we don't see him again.

Just after Meknes, a place about 40 mins from Fes, another guy gets on, quickly scans our cabin and checks in. He sits next to JJ and whisper, 'Here we go again'. She responds by saying 'Surely not', but yes, another man and another attempt to dupe the tourist. This time a team of four who are alert to his deeds railroad the guy in an instant and he walks away with his tail between his legs. He makes the briefest of returns a little later only to be sent packing by another shady character who I think was trying was the 'good guy' in this 'good cop,bad cop' routine.

Finally after 7hrs we reach our destination of Fes. The searing sun and the accompanying heat are putting us through our own personal trials and tribulations, it had to have been somewhere in the mid 40's, easily. We make our way into the station and then a little while later into taxi's and onto our accommodation, Riad Zamane.

Riad Zamane - Fes - Morocco

Riad Zamane - Fes - Morocco

When we arrive at the riad we're met at the door by a man named Abdul. In the days to come he was to become known as either 'the man' or 'the Moroccan Manuel'. This guy was awesome, nothing was too much trouble, he could organise anything that you required in an instance but strangely also had identical mannerisms to Manuel, the butler in the TV show Faulty Towers. In any case, whichever way he did things it was always 100% on the money. In much the same manner, the riad that we had just walked into was actually better then the one that we stayed in whilst in Marrakech, I knew at that point that our stay here was just going to be a 'hell of a struggle'!

Fes from the roof of Riad Zamane

Sunset from the riad

Marrakech - Kechscape

Marrakech (Morocco)

16 JUL - 17 JUL

Kechscape is what you get when you combine the melting pot of North African cultures with a healthy dose of chaos and a designated design of sensual bombardment that means your sight, smell and hearing takes you to all parts of this magical city, all the time, all at once!

The living and beating heart of Marrakech is Djemaa El Fna, a massive square in the centre of the medina that during the day demands nothing more than a glance of courtesy from a passing tourist but at night transforms into a violent whirlpoolof sights, sounds, colours and smells. To someone that isn't accustomed to the way the square moves and operates, it's truly and eye opening experience. Having only experienced this a few times previously, this to me is still very much an eye opener, and what's more, whatever happens in the square each evening does so again the night after, and the night after that. This Easter show on steriods goes on 365 days a year. When you witness the events of each evening it's hard to imagine that the very next evening, all that you see going on around you will be kicking off once again once the sun chooses to drop behind the Atlas mountains and take rest for the night.

Depending on how you approach the square the first thing that comes to your attention are the sounds. It's either the calls from the various market stalls that flank the square or the calls out from the spruikers in their orange carts asking you to come in and grab a glass of ice cold orange juice for the huge sum of 3 dirhams (40 cents) - (also let me say, guaranteed to be the best glass of OJ that you'll ever have!). After a couple of days you get accustomed to their calls, 'Hey, where you from?, Spain?, France? England? Germany?'... 'Come and have a look, it's free to look'...'Is this your first time in Morocco? Big Welcome'. Whilst you field answers from these guys and kind of joust and parry your way around them, you then have to be wary of the henna artists that may be sitting within your designated path, or perhaps some strange salesman that may or may not be selling pigeons who are incidentally aimlessly walking around in front of him, or perhaps some dude that may have jumped straight out of a Danoz direct commercial but instead of selling you an ab roller or a 'Sham Wow', is professing the potency of orange blossom oil. Everything in this square is good for the libido....didn't you know?....'make you strong, like an ox!'.

Djemaa El Fna - Marrakech - Morocco

JJ out in the square

Comtemplating the orange blossom for a moment and then deciding that your time for strange sexual potency assistance may not be required quite just yet, you call on your skills of dexterity and anticipation to jump out of the way of the snake charmers that dot the pheriphery of the square. There's also the odd man that has monkeys dressed in strange clown costumes and one poor soul that looks to be wearing a tutu. What the hell is that about you wonder? Perhaps it's better not to ask.

Food central - Djemaa El Fna - Marrakech - Morocco

The major drawcard to the square are the food carts that set up every evening. You can see the smoke billowing from their grills for hundreds of meters away but it's only when you get closer that the smells of what they have going become more and more intoxicating. These guys are 'the money!'. They have any type of Moroccan food that your heart desires and then some. Walking through the throng of people checking out their wares and looking at the people already seated and intotheir meals, you start hearing calls from the assistanta at each cart trying to pull you in. Some aren't too ingenious, 'Hola', (I'm not Spanish dude, try again), 'Hey, where you from man?'.....but as we progress through the numbered carts, which don't seem to be numbered in any particular order, we hear a couple of gems. 'Hey man, this is freakin' AWESOME' - kind of amusing when it comes out of a mouth of a young Moroccan man that pulls it off with nearly a perfect American accent. Then you get, 'This is pucka tucka, lovely jubbly', or even 'Easy peasy lemon squeezy'...??? What the hell? Mate, I'd nearly eat at your cart just for ripping that line out!

So, after walking around and thinking that all the food looks and smells so great, you decide that maybe now, on this occassion you'll go for a left field choice. Those sheeps' heads sitting out there on the top of this fine man's cart looks mighty appealing. The way he's been cutting that tongue, ripping off the skin from it's cheeks, that lovely looking cooked brain - yeah, I'll deal with the food poisoning tomorrow.....and so you barter with your own destiny. This is what I chose to do, and I kind of pushed JJ into doing the same thing. As we sat down to our plate of mystery sheep head meat with a side of bread and an ice cold coke, we looked around at the billowing smoke and the bright lights that made up these alleys of nightly food service and production. It's truly more than just a sight, it's an experience! It's a touch of insanity along with some good humour and even better food, although with the later you sometimes need to play a little Russian roulette, on this evening we spin the barrell and draw a blank!

Sheeps' head for dinner - 'loving it!'

Anything you need - anything you could think of

Finishing off our meal of sheeps head, which was mighty tasty (even in the books of an ex-vegetarian, or so JJ says), we made our way into the crowded mass of people that are permanently parked in front of the food carts. Within these masses you find groups of people gathered to watch either musicians getting their rythym on, Arabic story tellers delivering mystical tales of the desert and caravans crossing timeless dunes, or even strange oddball events like kiddie boxing or night fishing. This place is like warped type of carnival that is so atmospheric and intruiging that you can't help but be suckered into its mysterious clutches.

Whilst standing in a tight circle and straining to see what's going on at its centre, you need to be wary of those subtle brush pasts, or those innocuous touches to your back pockets, for where there smoke, there's fire. These crowds are absolutely infested with  pick-pockets and what you need to know is that if you're ignorant or forgetful, well, then you might also be a few dirham lighter for the mental slip. Standing in one of the circles I felt a gentle touch on my back pocket and quickly turned to see a 40 something Moroccan man, arms folded, looking off into the distance. He turns to me, catches my glare and gives me a wink as if to say 'Yep, you got me, points to you'. I laugh straight at him and he kind of grins - don't worry, there are plenty more tourists that he'll nail down this evening

.

Crowd in the square

Storyteller in the square

At the end of the night, if you've played it right, you'll walk away from Djemma El Fna being absolutely entranced by what it has to offer, with your stomach full of strange and wonderful delicacies, and with your money in the hands of it's rightful owners. For JJ and myself, well, I have to say that Djemma El Fna treated us very well. It's truly amazing, all the time!

In very much the same manner, but off on a little bit of a tangent, the Riad Boussa, our place of residence for the last few days,is also an experience. The movement and chaos outside of its walls are completely shut out when you walk through its understatedcedar door. Walking into the central court and looking up at the sky above you, you're able to almost forget about the the buzzing city that practically encloses your space. The riad is our own little karmic oasis, away from the peddlars, hawkers, thieves and ruffians of the night. It's a place where you can relax with a mint and sage tea, sit back and reflect on everything that has gone on around you.

Riad Boussa - Marrakech - Morocco

Riad Boussa - Marrakech - Morocco

On most days we found ourselves either up on the open terrace or in the court of the riad, sitting on blood red cushions, dealing with the dry heat and accepting that this place is very, very different to the place that we come from - which in itself makes Marrakech more than just unique, and maybe just a little special.