"Do you know why I pulled you over Sir?" The Police Officer presumably asked our driver (in Arabic).
This was not a routine stop.
The Officer peered behind the driver, into the rear seats of the van.
He walked around the front of the vehicle to the side door.
The door opened and the Officer stared directly at Ian.
Somewhat perturbed, Ian did his best to look like a law-abiding tourist.
"Do you know who I am?" The Moroccan Police Officer said directly to him.
Jamie had Morocco on her bucket list for some time. When we discovered a $40AUD flight from Athens to Marrakech, we jumped at the opportunity.
After a bumpy flight entry, we cruised through the airport and out to the taxi rank for a ride into the Medina (old town centre). At first, our taxi driver seemed characteristically friendly. Holding and hugging Ian in the front seat like they were old friends. He spoke not a word of English.
Along our 10 minute journey into the town centre, he demonstrated more personality extremes. Popping his head out the window and howling, opening the door at stop lights to walk to other cars and gesture, and continued reaching across and pointing at Ian and his beard.
We were glad to exit the vehicle. We both agreed that was the oddest taxi driver we had ever encountered.
As we had discovered only a few days prior while researching, Morocco was in its final two days of Ramadan. The streets were still busy, though the coffee shops quiet.
A zig zagging wander to our Riad was fortunately simple enough as our host had provided some excellent instructions. In the medina Google Maps was not to be trusted.
Over our five days in Marrakech we often came across puzzled tourists in a dead end staring at their phones. Locals could often be trusted, though they were also happy to direct you via a friends store or a shop they owned or for a fee.
It took us awhile to learn the true value of groceries. We began with a small bag of vegetables for 20 dirham, $3AUD, after a day we learnt it is actually 5 dirham, 70cents. Probably even less but we were happy with that price.
We were part tricked into some fresh orange juice in the Jemaa el-Fna square. We said 'yes' to a cup of juice each. When the owner asked for 40 durham we said, 'no, it should only be 20.'
We handed the cups back, he told us he had made us 'special Grande' cups. They didnt look all that special to us.
This happened quite regularly in Marrakech. Locals arent to blame, they make good money from the hoard of tourists that frequent the stores. Particularly the French that try to snap up bargains. In the end, we became accustomed to not even asking the price, just handing over a small amount of dirham and seeing what they say. Some fruit and bread for 4 dirham, 'Okay,' the show owner accepted it and we were happy. Otherwise we hand the produce back.
The mornings in the Medina, 9am, were the best time to improve your surrounding awareness. The streets were quiet, stores not open and only a few people about that didn't bother you. We were able to explore each corner, turn around multiple times and reach many dead ends without a concern. It was fun to get lost, then impress yourself if you were correct in your guess at our location. Jamie was correct more often than not.
Sadly, as the midday came and went, the afternoon became crowded in the narrow streets. Worsened by honking scooters zooming around pedestrians. Too often, Ian wanted to give a gentle nudge to a speeding youth flying down an alley. But he held it in.
The final evening of Ramadan was a celebration. Plenty of food being bought by locals, young children dressed up and the coffee/smoking bars back open. Five prayers a day was a nice routine. A simple wake up for us at 7.30am, all the way through to a bed time prayer around 10pm.
Our Riad was a delightful retreat from the bustling medina streets. A cool, tiled bedroom to rest in, a rooftop to relax on with dinner while the sun set.
On the fourth day we decided while in Morocco, we had best take the opportunity to visit the Sahara Desert.
Similar to our Bolivian salt flat tour, we walked into some 'tour' operators. These were often a persons table with fliers at the back of a restaurant. We listened to their one of a kind tour itinerary. We wanted a two nights/three day journey. Prices ranged from $95AUD, per person up to $400.
We opted for the cheapest.
At 7am we met out the front of a shop front. A few mini vans began to assemble in the town square. A stranger approached us and said, 'two nights/three days?'
We said, 'Yes.'
We followed him to a van and hopped in.
Our South American training had prepared us well for this style of organisation.
Over the next 30 minutes, another 15 passengers climbed aboard. A plethora of mini vans were all filling up and slowly departing.
We reached capacity, so we departed. On board we had two Americans, six Germans, two Argentinians, two English, two Moroccans, one Egyptian and us. All under the age of 37!
Our first day took us South East, over the Atlas mountains to Ourzazate. Some winding roads in the Atlas mountains were being repaired so a slow 40km/hr passage put most of us to sleep.
Around Ourzazate we stopped for a walk around two Kasbah's, old villages that were Unesco protected.
Upon exiting our van our driver sternly reminded us not to tip our guide who had already been paid.
Our guide walked us through the Kasbah's, pointing out various features, religions and cinematic set scenes. Including Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator and Game of Thrones. The Kasbahs each had a Jewish quarter, Arabic quarter and Berber(local) quarter, each with unique characteristics.
Following this we made our way to a restaurant for lunch. Fortunately for us Jamie and I had brought some bread and fruit with us. So we were able to turn down the only option for lunch, a 100 durham set meal ($13aud). This was particularly expensive considering the country we were in.
The staff and tour guide seemed a little disgruntled with us that we werent going to eat. Fortunately for our other tourists, the Moroccans in our group negotiated the price down to 80 durham.
It was time for us to bid farewell to the guide that walked us around the Kasbah's. He approached the area Jamie and I were sitting and asked for a tip. We politely said no but we wished him the very best and thanked him for his time.
This was not taken very well. He became agitated, spoke in Arabic to another guide who then came over and began accosting us. Saying how dare we, he has a family to feed.
We had long since stopped worrying about people asking for money or how it made us feel. It happened all across the world and we accepted that at times we would get it right, and times we would get it wrong. On this instance, we were saying no.
Our guide came back over to us and tried to make peace and wish us well.
Back in the van, we asked the others if they had been asked for a tip. They said no, it had only been us.
We thought that was interesting.
Back on the road and we headed up to the Rose Valley. Steep, red cliffs soared over mud brick homes.
Stopping on occasion for scenic views, we made it to our accommodation nearing 8pm. The hotel owner apologised that our rooms and dinner may take awhile as they were not informed of our booking until we arrived.
We relaxed with a tea and stretched our legs after a long day of driving. Dinner with our new friends at 10pm and we were all dead asleep by 11pm.
Back on the van at 8am, this time our drive was across vast plains as the Atlas mountains sat on the horizon.
A few stops with another guide in a new Kasbah was enjoyable.
This one appeared far more polite and we enjoyed a walk through some fields learning about their co-op farming. Alfalfa, dates, apricots and figs.
We spent time in a rug store, the owner and his wife showing us a variety of different fabrics and designs. He offered us tea and asked Jamie to walk across one of the rugs to feel its revitalising ability.
At the end he explained they can ship all over the world and take credit card as payment.
We thanked him for his time, but on this day he just had the wrong group. None of us were buying.
When he asked Ian directly, 'Which one will I ship to Australia?'
Ian had to be polite but direct, 'Neither.'
A schedule to keep, we bid farewell to our guide, declined his request for a tip and made our way further South towards Merzouga.
Through the town and towards sand dunes, we had reached the edge of Morocco and Algeria.
At 5pm we exited the van, gathered some belongings and climbed aboard some camels.
We had been told our tour included a camel ride to our tents. This was partly true. Though, the camel ride was a small round circle beside the sand dunes. Our tents were essentially where the vehicle dropped us off. But if you take a photo with the right angle, you could appear in the middle of the Sahara.
Trust us, that is how all the instagram photos were taken.
The camel ride was a bit of fun though probably not required. Two camels became too weak to carry their passengers. So two Germans were told to enjoy the walk. The guides readily asked for our cameras to take photos of us all.
When we returned to our tents after 45minutes, we were broken into small groups. A little unsure what was happening as Jamie and I were separated. We then reaised it was five of us to a guide. They wanted to each show us some small objects they had made by hand and wanted to sell us.
Again, the wrong crowd.
They also asked for a tip from taking our photos.
We settled into our tents, simple but effective accommodation. It would have been nice if they had removed the plastic and cardboard cover from our mattress before placing the bed sheet over the top.
Unsure of what time dinner was, or if we would have an organised walk to watch the sun set. Our group waited around with nothing happening, so we just walked off on our own to nestle into the side of a dune and watch the sun sink below the horizon.
There were many tourists scattered across the dunes. Each admiring the colour of the sky, the changing light on the dunes or rolling through the sand. The Germans in our group were having a lot of fun rolling down the side of a sand dune. Tumbling and falling with sand flicking everywhere.
Three young Moroccan children joined in, trying to jump as far as they could from the top of the dune then somersaulting all the way down. It was fun to take pictures as the light changed. With a few good photos of the young kids, Ian took his phone over to the parents to offer them the pictures. Some were able to be transferred but others were a little too large. So he promised to edit them and see them at dinner to exchange them.
Eventually we bid farewell to Helios. Made our way back to our tents where tables had been set up and dinner was being prepared. After spending two days with our group we chose to put the tables alongside and sit together. Over dinner we had a lot of fun remarking on the day, the tour and our origins.
Dinner consisted of the traditional Moroccan cuisine. Tagine, couscous, bread and watermelon for dessert. While in Marrakech we had tasted six varieties of tagine and several tasty couscous plates. This meal was one of our favourites. A large tagine for each table to share, Jamie and I became a little annoyed when a fourth was offered but the skinny German girl said we didn't need it. Too polite, we sat there in silence.
Nearing 10pm, it was time to climb back out on the sand dunes and watch the stars come out to play. Jamie and I found a dune on our own, sat back and counted satelites and shooting stars. Jupiter was up, so too Saturn on the horizon. The sand was warm, the air slowly cooling, our eyes adjusted to the night sky and it all felt quite surreal.
As midnight came upon us and our desire to watch the sun rise, we headed to bed, our hair full of sand and thoughts full of stars.
Five hours later we shook each other awake and stumbled into the pre dawn. Some had stayed up all night, others were still in bed. We made our way to the top of the dunes in the cool air. Cold sand now squeezing between our toes.
There we sat and observed the Earth turn, bringing the sun back into our view. The hue of colours stretch out across the dunes. The bold bright Sun wake everyone and the heat press firmly back on the Sahara.
Coffee, eggs, bread and jam for breakfast. Conversation was kept to a tired minimum. At 8am we climbed into our van, hunking down for more sleep, a long 9 hour journey back to Marrakech.
The German in the front seat kept the tunes mellow and rythmic. We all drifted in and out of sleep as we sprawled within the van.
An hour into the drive our van pulled over with two police officers standing in the middle of the road. Not uncommon, we had passed through several checkpoints the previous two days. We waited as our driver handed over his papers.
The Police officer looked into the rear of the van, we thought nothing of it.
He then walked around the front of the vehicle, the passenger side door slid open and he looked straight at Ian.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked.
Jamie and Ian were quite confused and not sure what to make of it.
'Hang on a second!' This is the parent we were swapping photos with! We had forgotten to meet up and exchange the final few.
He asked for Ian's number, we gave him our digits and explained we would not have reception until the UK. He promised to call us so we would have his number, then we can send him the final few pictures of his children leaping from the sand dunes of the Sahara as the sun set.
We suppose there was only one road in and one road out of Merzouga. We wondered what time he must have woken up to be sure he found us. Or how many other vehicles he had looked in and not seen a large red beard.
Our journey back to Marrakech was long and tiring. We gave a warm thank you to our driver who not only had driven over twenty hours in three days but was also on the Ramadan extended 6 days fasting!
Back in Marrakech we had a quick dinner before returning to our Airbnb. A thorough shower washed off almost all of the sand.
Crashing to bed at 9pm was perfect. We were gazunked.
Marrakech you are a crazy city, though for tired travellers, you are a little too hectic. With the monkeys in cages, snakes on carpets, over priced juices, haggling shop keepers. You feel like a giant shopping centre on crazy Christmas eve.
A wild experience, but one we need only do once.
Time to head to the coast of the Atlantic for a restful time in Essaouira.
